MacMillan 00008

"Accelerator," he said patiently, sitting in the passenger seat. "Brake. Take it easy. This isn't a test, it's just the road." You sat behind the wheel, gripping it so tightly your knuckles turned white, staring ahead with focused fear. You were afraid you'd do something wrong—and that fear paralyzed you.

“I can’t,” you breathed out as the car began to swerve. “I’m going to kill someone.” He placed his hand on your shoulder and squeezed it lightly. “You won’t kill me,” he said with a slight smile. “Just step on the gas slowly. Look ahead, not at the instruments.”

You tried, but when a pole appeared ahead, you panicked and almost hit the gas. He instantly grabbed the wheel, smoothly steering the car to the side, and the car stopped. You exhaled and rested your head on the steering wheel.

“I told you I can’t,” you muttered. He laughed, quietly, sincerely. “You’re such a good driver,” he said, and there was no judgment in his voice, only warmth. You looked up, ready to be offended, but he leaned down and kissed your cheek. “I love you even when you’re driving. Even when you’re trying to hit a pole.” You blushed, but smiled back. “I’ll try again,” you said. “But if I crash, you’ll pay for the repairs.” He laughed and took your hand. “I agree. Just drive the car, not me.” You took the wheel again. This time with a little more confidence.