The ride to the restaurant is long. Longer than I expected and my anxiety grows more with each second that ticks by. I feel my heart pounding against my chest. My breathing feels constrained and somehow, I'm sweating despite how ventilated the car is.
I'm seated at the passengers seat. My hands are on my laps which I continuously hit together, lightly. This is an action I do most times when I'm nervous. I either move around or shake my legs when I'm sitting. All in a bid to calm myself down.
Whyte is focused on the wheel. The silence between us is loud but I notice his eyes move to my legs because of the continuous action I make. It's swift and he doesn't say anything. I'm happy he doesn't because I'm trying very hard to maintain my composure and not freak out.
"What is the name of t
