A Slow Burn
SIENNA
“D.C.?” Angie screamed over the sound coming from the loud speakers. “D.C.?!” Her voice went high-pitched. Her platinum pixie cut went slinging across her furrowed forehead and a few nearby customers looked in our direction as she started screeching at me.
My nerves were already jumping. The music floating overhead at Tino’s was thumping, and though half of the crowd was ebbing and flowing to the dance floor and back, I felt caught in a perpetual wave, a whirlpool that just wouldn’t stop spinning.
I didn’t know if it was the anxiety, the tide of the partiers or the tequila, but my thoughts were swimming. I couldn’t believe what I was about to do. And I couldn’t believe that I had just told Angie about my plans.
The only thing worse would have been telling Javi. That
