JASMINE
The drive from the bar to Stella's house was painfully quiet.
Neither of us said a word. Stella sat stiffly in the passenger seat with her face turned toward the side window, her arms folded tightly across her chest as the city lights slid over her skin in broken flashes of gold and amber.
I kept my hands tight around the steering wheel, stealing glances at her every few minutes. She looked exhausted.
When we finally pulled up to her house, Stella stepped out of the car without looking back. I followed her up the front steps and slipped into the entryway before she could shut the door on me.
The moment we were inside, she kicked off her heels and threw herself onto the couch with a long, frustrated sigh, letting her head drop back against the cushions.
I closed the door softly and stood there, watching her. The living room was dimly lit, a small lamp in the corner casting warm light across the floor, but the atmosphere felt anything but warm.
