Chapter 30
586 Words
“We’ll wait by your truck,” B tells him and clings to my arm.
We silently make our way to James’ truck parked out of sight of the gym’s entryway. Charles was about to hop in the passenger’s seat but I stopped him.
“Do you mind if I sit there tonight? I kind of wanted to confront him about the incident earlier.” I told him, shuffling my feet, a little discomposed.
“Sure, Lottie. Don’t agitate him too much, though, if you can. You know he can be a little reckless when driving sometimes.”
I nodded and entered. We were by the side of the gym. Just minutes after we'd entered, I saw Emma’s friend passing us by and entering the driver’s seat in the black car in front of us, slowly driving away.
But where were James and Emma?
A few more minutes passed by and nothing. Beatrice behind me had fallen asleep the moment her head met the car seat. Charles was on his phone. I wanted so badly to check up on James.
I wasn’t necessarily worried about him. I just wanted to get home. I refrain from leaving the car. Moments after, though, James shows up with a solemn smile plastered on his face.
“Sorry, it took so long,” was all he said before starting the truck and driving away.
B wakes up as the truck moves, “James, do you mind if you take the route closest to my house? Dad’s been texting and calling nonstop.”
“Yeah, but that’ll mean Lottie will be driven home last,” He turned to me to ask my permission and I nodded.
When taking the highway or our usual route, I was going to be the first to be dropped off. But B needed to get home, like hours ago. It doesn’t matter much anyway, since Mom and Dad were aware and completely fine with me going out late. They knew my friends well enough. I mean, they know them so well, they might as well consider them their children.
The drive home was fast and quiet. It had started to rain. Almost in an instant, we were in front of B’s house. Not far along the same street was Charles’. Then another fifteen-minute drive to get to my street.
“Goodnight, B,” I called out as she left. We wait for her to enter the house, obviously in a sleepy state, before driving off.
“Congrats again on your win, man. It was amazing. See you guys tomorrow,” Charles expressed as he left the truck when we had arrived at his house.
“Thanks again for coming,” he says and drives away.
James and I were left in the car. Neither one of us said a word. He knows I’m mad at him. I wasn’t going to speak at first. But I so badly wanted to confront him about it. But I was stubborn. We were halfway through to my street but I refused to initiate interaction with him.
Finally, he gave up.
“You haven’t asked me about it earlier,” he stated, as more of an observation rather than a statement.
“Yes, and?” I proceeded by feigning disinterest.
“I wanted you to ask me about that.”
“The moment’s passed. I just want to get home and sleep.”
“Damn it, Lottie,” He grips the steering wheel tighter, hitting it once.
Why was he frustrated?
- Writer
