“Fine?”
I laugh despite myself.
“It was fun.”
“There she is.”
“What?”
“The smile.”
Heat creeps into my cheeks.
“You're impossible.”
“That's what everybody says.”
The truck stops at a red light.
He turns toward me fully.
And suddenly the air changes.
Not much.
Just enough.
Enough that I stop breathing properly.
Enough that my pulse picks up.
Enough that I become painfully aware of how close he is.
“You know what I think?” he asks.
I shouldn't ask.
I really shouldn't.
But I do anyway.
“What?”
His eyes soften.
And whatever teasing remark I expected never comes.
“I think you've been carrying too much.”
The words hit harder than they should.
Because they're true.
The school.
My mother.
The fundraiser.