HAYDEN
I didn’t turn the radio on during the drive back.
The car was quiet except for the whisper of the heater and the little clicks from the engine as it settled between stoplights. My hands were light on the wheel, the kind of loose you only get after a game-winning goal or, apparently, after kissing a girl you’ve been thinking about for months.
Every time my brain replayed that soft goodnight at the car door, I felt the same ridiculous floaty rush in my chest.
When I pulled into my lot, I sat there for a full minute, both hands on the wheel, my forehead resting against the back of my knuckles like a moron with a grin he couldn’t control.
Then I laughed out loud, which startled me enough that I finally grabbed my bag and climbed out.
Inside the apartment, Jason was exactly where
