Chapter 73 Chapter 73

Chapter 73 Chapter 73
Tito’s POV

The moment Kendrick nodded at me and said, “Alright, let’s go,” my stomach lurched in a way that felt equal parts excitement and dread. The garage door rolled up slowly, and I blinked against the sudden sunlight, the world beyond the driveway looking infinitely larger than it had just an hour ago.

My hands were damp on the steering wheel, fingers tightening around the leather as I felt my heart hammering in my chest. This was it. The real road. No empty driveway, no familiar lines to guide me—just traffic, pedestrians, and the possibility that I could make a fool of myself in front of… well, Kendrick, who had been quietly assessing me the entire time.

He settled into the passenger seat with his usual composed air, the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the faint summer air coming through the cracked window. “Remember,” he said, voice calm but firm, “we’ll take it slow. Stay alert, hands at ten and two, eyes on the road, and don’t panic. I’ll guide you.”

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Right,” I muttered, though my voice came out shakier than I intended.

The engine hummed under my feet as I shifted into first gear. My foot hovered over the accelerator, hesitant, and I could feel Kendrick’s eyes on me, patient but focused, every so often brushing against mine to check if I needed reassurance. I could feel it, though—every brush of his hand on the gear shift, deliberate but brief, sent a jolt through me that had nothing to do with the car itself.

My stomach fluttered, and I forced myself to concentrate on the wheel, on the pedals, on the road opening before me.

The first turn onto the main street was simple, but the moment we merged with traffic, a surge of nerves hit me. Cars of all shapes and sizes streamed past, engines humming, tires squeaking, and the sheer volume of movement made my chest tighten. I hesitated at a stop sign, then pressed the accelerator too lightly, nearly stalling. Kendrick’s hand nudged my shoulder gently. “Breathe, Tito. Smooth. You’ve got this.”

I nodded again, taking a deep breath, trying to slow the rhythm of my heartbeat. The world was moving fast, and I was suddenly acutely aware of every detail, the way the sunlight glinted off windows, the rhythm of traffic lights, the faint scent of exhaust and hot asphalt. I had never realized driving could be so overwhelming and exhilarating at the same time.

“Okay, next turn,” Kendrick said. “Signal early. Look both ways. Anticipate the unexpected.” His voice was steady, almost hypnotic, and I found myself focusing on his instructions like they were a lifeline.

The turn came faster than I expected. My hands shook slightly as I turned the wheel, and for a split second, the car swerved more sharply than intended. Kendrick’s hand brushed against mine on the gear shift, steadying me, and my stomach flipped. I had to remind myself to breathe, to keep control, to not let the tiny sparks of panic take over.

“You’re doing fine,” he said, almost casually, though I caught the pride in his silver eyes. “Just adjust, smooth it out. Remember, defensive driving—anticipate what others might do before they even do it.”

I swallowed hard, trying to absorb every word while keeping my foot balanced on the pedals. The next stretch of road was slightly uphill, and my hands ached from gripping the wheel too tightly.

A car pulled out in front of me unexpectedly, and instinctively I hit the brakes, my heart jumping into my throat. Kendrick’s voice cut through the panic, calm and commanding. “Okay, good reflex, Tito, now ease back into it. You’re in control.”

I exhaled shakily, and I could feel a sheen of sweat forming at my hairline. The world seemed to slow down just for a moment, as if it were waiting for me to prove that I belonged here, behind the wheel.

My gaze flicked to Kendrick, who gave me a small nod, almost imperceptible, and it felt like a seal of approval. I swallowed the lump in my throat and straightened my posture, trying to draw strength from his confidence in me.

We approached a minor intersection. A cyclist appeared suddenly from the side street, and I instinctively swerved slightly, catching control just in time. Kendrick’s hand again brushed mine, this time on the brake, steadying me. “See? That’s why you stay alert. Every moment counts.”

I could feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins, making my fingers tingle, my palms slick. My heart beat in my ears, and I could barely process the traffic ahead, the sound of engines, the hum of tires, and the subtle warning honks of nearby drivers. But then, slowly, I began to find a rhythm. My foot pressed the pedals more confidently. My hands guided the wheel more smoothly. I started noticing patterns, anticipating the actions of other drivers. For the first time, I felt like I was in control, not just reacting, but actively navigating the road.

Kendrick’s eyes occasionally flicked to me, and I caught glimpses of that rare softness he allowed himself only when he was proud. A corner of his lips lifted slightly as if he wanted to smile, but he didn’t, maintaining his composure. My chest swelled with a mix of relief and something warmer, something that made my fingers grip the wheel a little tighter.

“Good,” he said quietly. “Now, maintain speed, stay calm, and we’ll practice lane changes. Turn signals, check mirrors, anticipate traffic.”

The instructions blended together, becoming a mantra, something steady to cling to amidst the chaos. I focused on every motion—the flick of the signal, the glance over my shoulder, the slight pressure of the accelerator, the controlled release of the brake. I was learning to trust myself, to trust the car, to trust that I could handle the unexpected.

At one point, a sudden brake light flashed in front of me. My heart leapt, and I instinctively pressed harder on the brakes than necessary. Kendrick’s hand rested lightly on mine again. “Relax. You’ve got this. Smooth, controlled. Feel it, don’t fight it.”

I exhaled, letting my grip loosen just a fraction, feeling the tension in my shoulders ease. Every minor correction, every small success, seemed to build on itself, forming a foundation of confidence I hadn’t realized I could have. My pulse was still racing, but now it was tempered by accomplishment.

Minutes stretched into what felt like an eternity as we navigated the main road. Cars honked, pedestrians weaved through crosswalks, a bus lurched to a stop, and yet I kept control.

My foot pressed the pedals with precision, my hands guided the wheel with intention, and my eyes scanned the road with awareness. The city, once overwhelming and chaotic, began to feel like a puzzle I could solve with patience and focus.

At one point, Kendrick’s hand brushed mine again on the gear shift, and the heat that sparked between us was undeniable, but it didn’t distract me. Instead, it became a rhythm, a subtle reassurance that I wasn’t alone in this, that he was here, steady and reliable.

My breath caught for a moment, my chest tightening, but I focused on the road, letting the thrill of driving mingle with the strange, comforting presence of Kendrick beside me.

Finally, after what felt like hours but was probably only half an hour, the driveway of his house appeared. My hands were sore, my heart still pounding, adrenaline buzzing in every limb, but a sense of accomplishment flooded me. I guided the car back with careful precision, aligned it between the lines, and shifted it into park.

Kendrick exhaled quietly, a rare, satisfied expression crossing his face. “Well done,” he said, voice soft but proud. “You handled everything perfectly.”

I leaned back, letting the tension drain from my shoulders, a wide grin breaking over my face despite the fatigue. My pulse still raced, but there was a new sense of calm beneath it—a feeling of capability, of growth, of something I hadn’t known I could feel while navigating the chaos of life on wheels.

“Thanks,” I whispered, my voice still shaky from adrenaline. “I… I think I can actually do this now.”

He nodded, his gaze meeting mine for a heartbeat that felt charged and alive, then flicked to the rearview mirror, as if checking for my reaction again. I could feel the pride radiating from him, subtle but powerful, and I realized I had earned it—not just the lesson, but the trust, the acknowledgment that I could handle myself even in real-world danger.

We sat there a moment longer, the hum of the engine quiet, the house looming behind us, the world outside a little less intimidating. I felt tired, exhilarated, and strangely free all at once, a mix of emotions that made my chest ache with a soft, persistent warmth.

Kendrick finally spoke, his tone lighter now. “You ready for another lesson soon, or do you want to take a break?”

I shook my head, a small laugh escaping me. “I think… I think I need a moment to just… breathe. But I’m not scared anymore. Not really.”

He smirked faintly, a flash of amusement in his silver eyes. “Good. That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”