Chapter 8

The neon buzz of the *Starlight Diner* had been the soundtrack to our escape, a flickering, electric hum that wrapped around us like a warm blanket. Now, standing on the cracked asphalt of the parking lot, that same hum felt distant, muffled by the sudden, jarring reality of the world rushing back in. It was 2:03 AM. The sky was a bruised purple, bleeding into the horizon, signaling that night was finally surrendering to the morning. But for us, time had stopped the moment we stepped out of that booth, our fingers interlaced so tightly my knuckles had gone white. We didn’t speak. We didn’t need to. The air between us was thick, charged with the static of a thousand unspoken words, the lingering heat of his palm against the small of my back, the way his eyes had darkened when he caught me looking at him across the checkered tablecloth. We moved toward his car, a sleek, vintage black Cadillac that sat low and predatory under the solitary streetlamp. I felt small next to it, small next to him, a feeling that had grown in me over the last few hours, a delicious, terrifying shrinkage of my ego until