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ARE WE HAVING FUN YET

A Few Days Later

Timmy’s excitement is electric, almost contagious—but instead of exhilaration, it sends a sharp wave of dread through my entire body.

“Let’s drive to the Point!” he announces, his eyes gleaming with reckless enthusiasm. “But this time, we’ll go further. We’ll go right to the end, get deep into the good spots!”

My heart sinks. The last time he took me there, we stuck to the main road—safely, predictably. This time, something feels different. There’s an edge to his excitement, a hunger to push limits.

“Isn’t there a gate?” I ask, uneasy.

He grins, wild and gleeful. “Don’t worry about that. You’ll see.”

I know better than to argue. Any attempt to challenge him will be met with accusations of being controlling or no fun, and I don’t have the energy for a fight today.

When we pull up to the end of the road, I think—hope—he’s just going to stop, like we did last time. But instead, he cranks the wheel toward a narrow path to the left of the gate. It’s clearly not meant for trucks like this—maybe for dirt bikes or zippy little 4WDs—but that doesn’t stop Timmy .

“Are you seriously going to do this?” I ask, my heart hammering.

His grin widens. “Yup! Hold on tight!”

With a squeal of excitement, he slams his foot on the accelerator, sending the truck bouncing up the steep embankment, rocks clattering beneath us. The truck’s undercarriage groans as we lurch over the terrain. Each jolt threatens to punch a hole through the oil pan or snap the axle.

We land hard on the other side of the gate with a metallic crunch, and my stomach twists in on itself.

“Woohoo! That was awesome!” he cheers at himself. “Man, I’m such a good driver.”

I freeze, and just sit there, with a tight smile.

The path is uneven, lined with sharp rocks on one side and a sheer drop into the ocean on the other.

We bounce along the jagged path, the truck swaying dangerously from side to side. Hikers stop to stare, wide-eyed, as we rumble past. This isn’t normal—this isn’t a vehicle meant for these kinds of conditions. We look insane, and I can feel their judgment.

Timmy, though, doesn’t care. He waves at the hikers like he’s on a parade float, grinning from ear to ear. “Hi there!” he chirps out the window, acutely aware of both how ridiculous and dangerous this whole situation is.

We reach a precarious point where the narrow path barely fits the truck’s tires. On one side is a rock wall, and on the other, a dizzying cliff that drops straight down into the swirling, frothy ocean below.

Timmy jumps out of the truck and snaps a picture, beaming with pride. “Look at this view! Isn’t this awesome? I can’t believe we’re doing this!”

My pulse is in my throat, and my palms are slick with sweat. I can feel the cliff’s pull—just one wrong move, and we could be tumbling into the sea. But I know better than to show fear—my fear just makes him more reckless. If I show any hesitation, he’ll double down, and take it as a challenge to try and freak me out more, to elevate my discomfort .

He gets back in and turns to me, serious for once. “Hey. Get out of the truck.”

“What?” I blink at him, confused.

“This part’s dangerous,” he says solemnly. “If something goes wrong… if I die, I want you to be safe.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. Chivalrous and terrifying all at once.

“This is so unnecessary,” I mutter, but I obey. I’d rather be out of the truck than in.

I slide out of the truck, my legs shaky beneath me. I watch as Timmy revs the engine, his face lit up with manic determination. This whole thing feels like some kind of test—a dare I didn’t agree to but have to pass anyway.

He successfully makes the turning maneuver, and I breathe a sigh of relief as he motions for me to get back in the truck.

He grins. “You’re so brave! I’m really impressed.”

His words make my skin crawl. This isn’t bravery—this is survival. But I force a smile and nod, trying to play along. He thrives on validation, and the last thing I need is to piss him off mid-stunt, when he really needs to be concentrating and believing in his driving ability more than ever.

We get back to the gate. My heart is in my stomach as I see the steep angle he’s going to have to swing the truck around, a cliff just a foot or so away if he gets it wrong. Somehow—against all odds—he manages to wrench the truck over the bend without sending us careening into the ocean. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding as he steers us back toward the road. We survived.

He’s giddy on the return trip, verbally patting himself on the back.

I sit, silently, as my heartbeat starts to slow back down, while Timmy chatters non-stop, buzzing with excitement. “I can’t believe we did that! I can’t believe I just did that!”

Neither can I. What the hell just happened? How did I let him put me in that situation? This isn’t the life I imagined for myself. Sure, I wanted adventure—but not like this. Not reckless, dangerous, could-have-died-today adventure .

Honestly, while I feel young at heart, I also think we’re both way too old for this kind of stupid, reckless shit. We’re not in our twenties anymore.

“I’m so impressed with you,” Timmy gushes. “Most people would’ve freaked out. But not you. You’re the bravest woman I’ve ever met.”

His words don’t comfort me—they make me feel like a fool. A fool for pretending to stay calm while my heart hammered in my chest, blood pounding in my temples, a fool for letting him drag me into this.

What kind of person doesn’t say no to something like that?

But I know the answer. A person who’s scared of being called boring, controlling, a buzzkill. Mocked for being responsible in any manner. A person who’s afraid of rocking the boat. A person who’s trying too hard to hold onto a relationship that feels like it’s slipping through her fingers.

When we finally return to the apartment, I’m trembling inside, but I mask it. Timmy is too high on adrenaline to notice. He’s grinning like a child who just won a dare.

“That was insane !” he exclaims. “We should do it again sometime!”

I shake my head firmly. “No. Absolutely not. Never again.”

He pouts for half a second, but then sighs. “Okay, okay. You’re right. That was kinda crazy.”

He looks at me again with boyish delight, like he’s waiting for praise. “But, come on, admit it. That was awesome , wasn’t it?”

I force a tight smile—the gritted-teeth emoji plastered across my face. It wasn’t awesome. It was terrifying. And reckless. And completely unnecessary.

And the worst part is, I know this isn’t the last time. He’ll push the limits again. Maybe not next week, maybe not next month, and not in the exact same way. But I have no doubt he’ll find a new way to test boundaries, to see how far I’ll go. And the stakes will keep getting higher.