The Bad Boy's Accomplice | ✓

Ch. 31- "Friend"

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(Skip to Monday)

Deja's POV

I wake up, sweat free and tear free. It's a miracle. Today is going to be the hardest day of my life. How can I go the whole day with no or minimal social interaction with Cameron? I don't know to be honest, so there's one thing I can do to make this presumed bad day better.

Get Starbucks.

That's the only way I'm going to get through today so, I've woken up a little earlier than I usually do. I want to make it to Starbucks before the teachers and other people who have 9-5 jobs get in there.

Plus, I could probably take the Toyota there and then come back in time to have my mom take me to school or for me to take the bus. My mom is always difficult and never allows me to drive to school.

I wish she could be carefree like that. Well, she is carefree when it comes to my life's events. She's carefree when she shouldn't be.

~~~

I park in the parking lot and walk inside the Starbucks. Barely anyone is in there. It looks like my plan has worked. I walk up to cash register and a familiar face interrupts my mental celebration.

"And we meet again." David says.

"Yeah, can I get a tall soy vanilla latte?"

"Sure. Is that it?"

"Yes."

He turns around to write on my cup, but I realize that he didn't tell me the total.

"Hey, David. You didn't tell me the price."

"Don't worry about it." He smiles.

I don't trust that smile, but oh well. A free drink is a free drink. A few minutes later, my drink is ready. David is the one who brings it out, causing my suspicions to rise.

"Did you spit in this?" I ask.

"No, I didn't."

"I swear if you spit in this."

"Deja, I didn't spit in it."

"What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing, I swear on my dad."

Since I know that his dad is dead, I can now drink my coffee with no worries. I slowly turn away from him. I grab some napkins and a green stirrer before heading out the door.

I take a swig of my coffee as I cross the street. As I approach my car, I really taste the coffee to make sure that David didn't do anything to it. Either David is a master barista or he didn't spit in it because this is one of the best damn lattes that I've had from Starbucks, considering their inconsistency.

I hop into the car, turn on Love Galore by SZA and Travis Scott and find my way back home. It's five minutes away from Starbucks if you drive.

I pull into the driveway and walk into the house through the garage. About a quarter through my bomb-ass coffee, I realize what time it is. I have about 15 minutes until I need to leave to make it to the bus stop in time.

I might burn my tongue, but it's worth the risk, considering the possible consequences. I slam the coffee until the last drop. That only took 10 minutes.

Just as I'm about to toss the empty cup in the trash, something tells me to look at the writing inscribed on it.

I'm sorry.

That's what it says in medium sized writing. It's bigger than the other writing telling me what type of drink I have.

I glance at the writing for a quick second before tossing it in the trash. I don't know what type of games David is playing, but I'm not down.