Dasey Drabble – 100 words. No ownership implied.

Friday afternoon, six weeks from graduation. Bleak rain everywhere.

Space-Case demands a ride home after rehearsals. I panic. Mutter, 'Go bug someone else…'

It's her mouth. (And her body. Her reckless affection. And the implausibly amusing things she says.)

I can't have this stepsister of mine so close to me.

I watch her in the rear-view, standing forlornly clutching her books.

Then I'm reversing; tyres furious; braking, my breathing shallow.

'Get in.' Her eyes meet mine and catch delicious fire.

'You came back.' She whispers. Wet, but so…. happy. Because of me.

So what if I can't breathe?

We're together.