9. the train

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Chapter 9

Vincent Laurent

We already had a 30 minute argument, of who gets to drive, before we barely even stepped out of her house. The only thing that convinced her was me allowing her to control the music. For three hours, she played one song. 3 fucking hours.

I wanted to run the car off a cliff. The fuel starvation signal went off, meaning we were out. Fuck.

"What happened?" She asked.

"No more fuel." I sighed, trying to start the car again, praying to god it'll start.

"You have got to be kidding me." She groaned, sulking in her seat. She suddenly sat up, a glare dead set on her face.

"How stupid are you? How could you possibly not realize you had to fill it?" She shouted.

She's yelling at me?

"This is your car. How the fuck is this my fault?"

"You're the one who insisted on driving. I thought you would check to see if it was full! " She yelled once again.

"How the fuck don't you know if your own car has fuel or not? You didn't even tell me there might not be enough!" I shouted back. Father made a huge mistake calling truce.

The brat opened her mouth, probably to yell at me once again. She seemed to have stopped herself. Sighing, she pulled out her phone and tapped her keyboard a couple times.

"There's a gas station just 20 minutes away by walking. Go buy some gas." She muttered.

"This was your fault. You go." I said. It was true. The brat didn't know if her own car had enough gas to last us a couple hours or not.

"You're the driver. You should've checked before we even started driving."

I let out a deep breath. I knew this wasn't my fault. But if I did go, then I would get 20 minutes of peace and quiet. Seems like a win.

"Okay, stay here and for the love of god, don't fucking die." I sighed, unbuckling my seatbelt.

"Aw, you care about me? How cute." She sarcastically said.

"I couldn't care less. You're just a useful asset right now." I said as I got out of the car. I got out my own phone and put the address into google maps. I turned my head to look at the brat. She had a smile on her face, clearly satisfied she doesn't have to move a muscle.

Oh, how badly I wanted to slap it off.

Oriya Deronte

I said I'd be nice and try to cooperate, but Vincent makes that very difficult. 10 minutes had passed and I decided to finally get out and take out the extra fuel tank in my trunk. It would still take him about another 30 minutes to make his way back here, in that time I could fill the tank.

He really was stupid. Of course I'd know if my tank is full or not. As much as I wanted to get this mission over with, Vincent drives like we have 9 lives and I don't have a death wish.

After filling the tank, I made my way to the driver side of the car. The key was sitting on the seat. He truly was stupid. I had two options. I could either be a good person and wait for him to return or I could go to the place we're staying at myself, and let him get there on his own.

Second option is screaming my name.

Humming the lyrics to Brooklyn Baby by Lana Del Rey, I got into the car and started it. I'll be nice and let him know he has to catch his own ride when I drive past the gas station. See? I am a nice person.

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