Chapter 9
Knowing Bryant was waiting for me, the last thing I expected was to find someone else in the passenger seat, especially someone who was supposed to hitch a ride, Margaret, sitting there as if she belonged..
I was on the verge of turning around and
Bryant with an outstretched hand. “Kaving, but reason held me back. I approached
Without a word, Bryant handed them over.
I circled the front of the car and slid into the driver’s seat, catching Margaret’s stiff and surprised expression. I couldn’t help but smirk. “What’s the big deal? You’re practically Bryant’s sister. Hitching a ride is the least of our worries.”
Then, leaning over to glance at Bryant still outside, I called, “Come on, get in. Timothy must be waiting.”
The drive was eerily silent like we were trapped in a tomb.
Margaret tried to strike up a conversation with Bryant but gave up, probably because it was awkward to turn back constantly.
Sensing my discomfort, Bryant suddenly handed me a bottle. “Mango juice, your favorite.”
I took a sip, grimaced, and handed it back. “Too sweet for me. You have it.”
Lately, I’d been craving sour flavors, a departure from my past self who’d eat anything not to waste it.
“Okay,” Bryant accepted it back, no further questions asked.
Margaret couldn’t help but comment, her tone laced with complexity. “Passing back a drink you’ve sipped? You know, that’s not very clean. You could spread all sorts of bacteria that way.”
I laughed off her concern. “By that logic, we’re in even more danger sleeping in the sam bed every night, aren’t we?”
Margaret knew what I was implying and retorted, “I didn’t realize you two were still so close, even after all these years.”
“Jealous much?” Bryant shot back in a cold voice.
There it was, the usual banter between them. Margaret snarked back, “Jealous? Why would I be?”
“Who cares” Bryant retorted.
Margaret rolled her eyes but managed a smile. It reminds me of someone who, on his wedding night, heard I was in trouble and left his bride to stay with me all night…”
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