She’d driven three hours to crash his going-away party. Three hours of highway hypnosis, replaying every memory. They’d been a disaster of a duo—the kind of anthem where you pretend you’re fine, screaming “fall into the floor” while actually falling apart. They’d broken up four years ago. She’d sworn she was over it.
The rain was a steady, tired drumbeat on the roof of the old Ford Focus. Maya gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles white, staring at the familiar brick house across the street. Inside, a light was on in her old bedroom. The room that now belonged to someone else.
He poured her a drink. They didn’t talk about the past. They talked about Seattle, her job, the absurd price of gas. Normal things. But every few minutes, a song from their shared soundtrack would play. The night felt like a session neither of them had signed up for. all time low famous songs
“I’m sorry,” he said. Not for the song. For everything.
She got out of the car.
He smiled, that old crooked smile. “I’ll try not to.”
The party was dwindling. Leo was in the kitchen, laughing with a few old friends. He looked the same—messy hair, easy smile—but different. Softer. When he saw her, he froze. She’d driven three hours to crash his going-away party
It was a kind of night, but not the fun, reckless one from high school. Back then, the song meant sneaking out and chasing a stupid, glorious crush. Tonight, it felt like a taunt. She was the one counting herself out.