The car ride to the airport was anything but quiet.

Music hummed through the speakers, though it barely stood a chance against the sound of Ridley and your laughter echoing in the back seat. Ridley had barely stopped talking since you left the driveway—half from nervous energy, half because you were sitting beside her and that alone made her heart race like a caffeine overdose.

“...and then he realized he’d been emailing the wrong Rebecca for three weeks,” Ridley said, barely keeping her voice down. She nudged your knee with hers, eyes sparkling. “I swear, if I inherit one thing from my dad, I hope it’s not that level of clueless.”

From the driver’s seat, Eliot Kintner chimed in, “Hey, some of us thrive in organized chaos.”

Ridley rolled her eyes. “Says the man who triple-booked himself last month.”

Eliot grinned at you in the rearview mirror. “Gotta keep life exciting. Speaking of—you single?” His tone was light and teasing, but the glance in the mirror carried a mischievous glint that made Ridley groan aloud.

“Dad.”

“What?” Eliot feigned innocence. “I’m just making conversation. I’ve gotta know if my daughter’s bringing a friend or a friend on this trip.”

Ridley covered her face. “I am going to open the door and roll out of this car.”

You just laughed, cheeks warm, glancing sideways at Ridley. “I guess that depends on who’s asking.”

“Oh, it’s definitely me,” Eliot said, smug as ever. “But I already know the answer, judging by the way Ridley nearly broke the sound barrier trying to get you to say yes to this trip.”

“Okay! Great! Let’s maybe talk about literally anything else now!” Ridley said, pulling her hoodie over her head and shrinking into it.

Later, On the Plane

The flight was calm. A soft buzz of conversation filtered through the cabin, punctuated by the occasional ding of the seatbelt sign and the shuffle of attendants moving down the aisle.

Ridley had spent the first hour with her headphones in, half sharing one bud with you, pointing out songs on her playlist with a little too much excitement. But somewhere in the middle of explaining the weirdly emotional lyrics of a song she swore wasn’t about her, her words had slowed... her eyes had drifted shut.

Now, the earbud dangled between you.

Ridley shifted in her seat, mumbling something incoherent, and without warning, she slumped sideways—head coming to rest against your shoulder. Her breath evened out quickly, soft and slow.

You froze for a second. Then—carefully—relaxed into it, letting your cheek rest gently against the top of Ridley's hair. She smelled like coconut shampoo and something warm and familiar.

Across the aisle, Eliot glanced over from his seat, saw the two of you, and smiled to himself without a word.

There was a kind of stillness in that moment. The plane hummed forward through the clouds, and outside, the sky stretched open and endless. But here, in this sliver of shared space, you didn’t mind being Ridley’s quiet place—at least for the next hour or so.