Sorry

1 ~ First Day

"Jay!" My father calls me.

"B-be down in a minute!" I adjust the collar of my shirt and take one last look in the mirror before grabbing my bag and running down the stairs.

"Are you ready?" Dad asks looking down at me.

"Yeah, n-nervous m-maybe..." I fidget with my fingers and avoid eye contact.

"You'll be fine! Come on, we have to go." My mother interrupts already halfway out of the door.

We all hurry out of the house and into the car. My luggage occupies the boot and most of the backseats where I'm supposed to try to squeeze in.

I squish into the back and for the first five minutes of the drive, I look out of the window nervously, overthinking the different ways this day could go terribly wrong for me.

"Come on, don't worry about it too much." Mum sings after a while. "You'll have such a good time, Jay. You were smart enough to get into this Uni in the first place!" She reassures me.

"Y-yeah...but w-what if...w-what if I-"

"You'll be fine!" She says again.

I nod my head and turn back to the window, seeking comfort from the familiar buildings and trees blurring past. Hopefully my first day will do the same. 

After a while, I notice that Mum is constantly glancing at me through the rearview mirror.

I cock my head confused, "W-what?"

"I just can't believe my little boy is all grown up." She sighs and Dad chuckle

We seem to be making good time when Mum brakes suddenly. That's when I feel it. I haven't been to the bathroom since really early this morning when I woke up, and now, I need to pee. Like right now.

"Sorry, the guy in front of me is an asshole." She mutters, accelerating again.

I sit up straight trying to discreetly push my crotch into the car seat to ease the sudden desperation. I should have been concentrating, then I would have asked for the toilet ages ago to avoid this predicament.

The car stutters again and I squeal, desperately fighting the urge to shove my hands between my legs like a 5 year old. Instead I stick with trying to impersonate a pretzel and doing quite well.

I chew on my lip, looking around at our surroundings, noting that we are yet to reach the busy highway, so a stop wouldn't be too inconvenient, would it?

I don't really like to ask for the bathroom as I feel like a nuisance whenever I do, so I decided to sit there, drowning in my misery. I could try to hold it a bit longer, then when it gets too bad, I could ask for a rest stop.

My motivation is the idea that we'll be stopping soon.

"Jay, is everything okay?" Dad turns to face me, startling me out of my thought process where I was conflicted with myself.

I say nothing but nod.

"Jay." He says sternly making me jump.

"Y-yeah?"

"If you need the toilet, you can just say. How many times have I told you this and how many times have you had an accident because you refuse to listen?" He scorns me.

I blush as the car goes over a speed bump and I feel a spurt of pee dribble into my underwear. I stop the stream, quickly pushing my hands between my legs. "S-sorry." I look down at my lap to check for any stains. Dad can sometimes be pain when it comes to me being confident and speaking up, soI ask "C-can we stop s-soon?"