The tension in the car was thick. Adrian said nothing as he drove, one hand gripping the leather wheel, the other resting on his thigh, fingers twitching like he was holding himself back. 

I sat beside him in silence, hands clenched in my lap. 

“Adrian,” I finally said, my voice cautious, “what are we doing?” 

He didn’t answer. 

“You said you wanted us to talk.” 

Still nothing. He just kept driving. 

Minutes later, we were pulling into my dorm lot. I expected him to ...