Chapter 9
Saying Dez knew Fisher created one, very specific problem.
I had to tell her everything.
At ten o’clock on Saturday night, we sat in my car in the McDonald’s parking lot, surrounded by the smells of oil from my time spent at the station after my shift, vinegar from the extra pickles she’d ordered on her Big Mac, and the large black coffee I was sipping to try and stay awake. When I’d texted her this morning and asked to hang out tonight, she’d jumped at the chance.
Am I finally going to get the deets on your big date last week?
All the PG-rated ones.
And more since I’d added her into the mix. I knew this locale was not what she’d been expecting, though. But where else could I confess? I didn’t want to risk being overheard, so both our homes were out. So was anyplace public.
