Kill Switch by Penelope Douglas

I can’t do this.
I shook my head, breathing hard as I tried to right myself.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry…”
“Shhh,” he soothed, his left hand resting on my hip.
“We’ve got all the time in the world.”
My chin trembled, because I was embarrassed and
frustrated, and I didn’t want to do this, because I would just
make a fool out of myself. I was just going to fail! Why was
he trying to embarrass me?
Tears pooled, the car slowed to a crawl, and I closed my
eyes, breathing in and out to get my head straight again.
It’s okay. We’ve got all the time in the world.
We’ve got all the time in the world.
I blew out a long, slow breath.
It’s okay.
It’s okay.
He wasn’t rushing me. He wasn’t mocking me. He wasn’t
hurrying me.
It was okay if I learned things a little slower. It was okay.
I sniffled, and even though he couldn’t see my face, he
probably knew I was crying, but I stretched my fingers and
gripped the wheel again.
“Okay,” I said.
He gave it some gas, and I pulled back onto the road,
moving the steering wheel smaller this time, swerving the car
side to side to find the edges of my lane, kind of like I do
when I dance. GGauging the perimeter and counting time to feel
for my mark.
The left tires ran over little bumps every few feet, and I
realized they were reflectors in the middle of the road, so
drivers could see their lanes at night.
That was my mark. How I could tell when I left my lane.