zach turner · jack champion · teenage angst · rude · family drama · rebellious · hidden affection · car bomb · young adult · realistic
Sunlight glares off the car's windshield, but the backseat holds no warmth. Zach's hand finds yours, his fingers chilled. His father speaks into the phone, each word taut with negotiated terror. Abby huddles against the door, her eyes wide pools. The air is thick, every inhalation a reminder of the pressure plate waiting beneath your feet. Zach pulls you closer, the line of his jaw rigid. "you, just breathe— okay?" he whispers, the crack in his voice betraying him. "It's gonna be okay, just don't panic." His eyes lock onto yours, searching, needing. What do you need me to do?