The city moved around them in glimmers of motion.
Streetlights blinked in rhythmic pulses as Jake's truck rolled down the slow stretch of road leading out of Hriva's neighborhood. It was the kind of early evening that held its breath. Not quite night, but the sky was already letting go of its color. The dashboard cast a soft glow on their faces, cool and steady. Inside the truck, it was warm.
Jake's hand rested on the wheel, relaxed and steady. His other arm stretched along the console, fingers occasionally brushing Hriva's thigh. Not possessive. Just present. Like a silent reminder that he was there. With her. In this. Whatever this evening might bring.
Hriva leaned her head lightly against the window, watching the lights slide across the glass. Her thoughts felt like water tonight, rippling softly but never still. She tried to imagine how the dinner would unfold. Who would sit where. What her friends would ask. Whether she would feel caught in the middle or quietly proud of blending both her worlds.
Jake glanced over at her. "You're quiet."
"I'm thinking."
"About?"
She didn't answer right away. The hum of the engine filled the pause.
Then, without looking at him, she said softly, "I don't bring many people into my friend group."
Jake didn't respond immediately. He just let her speak at her pace.
"They're loud," she went on. "They talk fast and tease hard. Sometimes it's all fun. Sometimes it's... sharp. Even when they don't mean to be."
Jake looked at her fully now, one hand still on the wheel. "Are you worried for me? Or for you?"
Her lips tugged slightly into a knowing smile, even if it was small.
"Both," she said honestly.
Jake's voice lowered a little, more serious now. "Do you want to skip it?"
That made her turn to him quickly. "No."
He gave a quiet nod. "Then we won't run from it."
Hriva watched him for a moment. The way his jaw tightened just slightly when he was thinking. The way his eyes always softened when they landed on her.
"You're good at this," she said quietly.
"At what?"
"Being the calm in my storm."
Jake chuckled softly. "That's funny. Because from where I'm sitting, you're the one keeping me grounded."
She looked down at her lap, fingers brushing over the seam of her dress.
"I think it's just… new," she said. "Letting someone see every part. Not just the girl you kiss goodnight, but the girl with tangled history. Inside jokes. Friends who've seen her cry over stupid boys and bad breakups."
Jake's hand moved from the console and found hers. His grip was warm, gentle, but unshakable.
"I want to meet all of you," he said.
"Even the messy parts?"
"Especially the messy parts."
They pulled up to a red light. Outside the windshield, a couple crossed the street holding hands. Their laughter drifted across the hood of the truck, brief and soft, before disappearing.
"I keep thinking," Hriva said, watching them pass, "that maybe they'll say something dumb. Maybe Mira will push too far or Zara will bring up something embarrassing from years ago. Or Niyah will ask about that guy I dated in college. And I'll freeze. Or panic. Or..."
Jake squeezed her hand. Just enough.
"Let them," he said simply.
She turned to him again.
"Let them say what they're going to say. Let them be loud and messy and tease you until your ears go red. Because I'll be there. And nothing they do can shake what we already know."
Hriva felt her chest tighten. Not with fear. But with the way his voice settled her so easily. Like water poured over a flame.
"You're not nervous?" she asked.
Jake gave her a crooked smile. "Oh, I'm definitely nervous."
She laughed, surprised.
"But I'm not scared," he added. "Because I trust you. And if they're your people, then I want to know them. Even if they roast me for half the night."
She looked down at their joined hands. His thumb brushed slow circles over her skin.
"I'm glad it's you," she whispered.
He leaned over then, slow and careful, until his lips touched her temple.
"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."
The light turned green.
Jake eased the truck back into motion. The city blurred past again. But inside the cab, something had shifted. The air felt less tight. More like shared courage. More like something unspoken had passed between them and didn't need to be named.
As Mira's building came into view, her apartment windows glowing soft and amber from the inside, Hriva straightened in her seat.
"Ready?" he asked again.
She exhaled.
"Yeah," she said, this time with more certainty. "Let's do this."