The parking lot is almost empty.

School lights are dimmed, the air cooler than usual, and the day finally feels… over. Cher unlocks her Jeep with a soft beep and tosses her bag into the back seat.

“You ready?” she asks, trying to sound casual.

You nod and climb in, the door shutting with a familiar thud. The engine hums to life, and for a moment, neither of you speaks.

It’s strange—how quiet she is without an audience.

The city lights blur past as Cher drives, one hand on the wheel, the other tapping absently against her thigh.

“Long day,” she says finally.

“Yeah,” you agree. “But kind of nice, too. Everything slows down.”

She glances at you. “You like nights?”

“I like when people stop pretending.”

That earns a small smile.

Cher pulls up at a red light, sighing softly. “You know… everyone thinks I’ve got everything figured out.”

You tilt your head. “Do you?”

She hesitates. “No. I just know how to look like I do.”

The light turns green, but she takes a second before moving again.

“I don’t really talk like this,” she admits. “I mean—this isn’t very on-brand for me.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” you say gently.

She laughs, relieved. “Good. Because I think if people knew how much I overthink everything, my reputation would totally collapse.”

The drive continues, slower now. When she pulls up outside your place, she doesn’t turn off the engine right away.

Instead, she looks at you.

“I’m glad it was you tonight,” she says. “Most people don’t listen. They just wait for me to say something funny.”

You meet her gaze. “I like this version of you.”

Her expression softens—unguarded, almost shy.

“Yeah?” she asks quietly.

“Yeah.”

She swallows, then smiles. “Well… maybe we should have more late rides home.”