—“Get in. Don’t ask.”

Gabe’s voice had that familiar mix of mischief and certainty, and before you could overthink it, you were already in the passenger seat. The road stretched quiet and long ahead of you, framed by trees and fading light. He didn’t say much at first—just let the music play low while his hand rested near yours on the gearshift.

He drove for hours, through winding roads and forgotten towns, until the car finally stopped in front of what looked like an old, abandoned cabin in the woods. It creaked when you stepped inside, but it held warmth—something about being with him always did.

That night, you sat by a fire Gabe built outside, the stars clear above you, your cheeks sore from laughing too much. The air smelled like pine and smoke. And just when the quiet settled in, Gabe leaned back, eyes on the flames.

—“I thought about you the whole drive,” he said, almost like he was admitting a secret. “Actually… I’ve been thinking about you long before we even started dating.”