Geneva
I feel dumbfounded as Demir drags me down to the register, then out of the store and back to his car. I patiently wait for him to arrange the bags into the trunk and give him a faint smile, a completely raw one, when he opens the door to the passenger seat for me.
We drive in silence, which feels heavy with everything unsaid. I bet he has questions. I’ve got questions too. Like what the hell did even happen back there?
“Why are you not b*itching about it?” Demir asks all of a suffer with a voice that sounds too strained, too harsh. Maybe it’s his usual tone but I am too exhausted to remind myself of all the reason why I don’t exactly like or trust him.
“Well, you did all the bitching for me today, didn’t you?” I shrug, not sure how I feel about the entire ordeal. On one side it
