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When the day ends, I'm completely exhausted. I didn't have time to get gas for my car yesterday, but I wish I had so I wouldn't have to deal with the walk home. I just want to curl up into a ball on my bed and watch Netflix with a big bowl of popcorn.
I'm barely able to keep my eyes open as I begin to walk in the direction of my house. I'm currently in a cul-de-sac, a shortcut to my house, when I see a car zoom past me and make a turn on a driveway. The window rolls down and I'm confronted by Wyatt, Joe and Lincoln.
Joe is scowling. I wonder who pissed in his cereal today?
Wyatt's concern is evident. "Ashley! What are you doing walking in the cold?"
I stare blankly. "Going home."
"Why? You're already sick! You need to get in the car."
"I am not sitting in that car with you," I state, firmly. Wyatt has already distracted me enough, and I can't go around and keep up with the feeling he leaves in my heart.
"Dude, why the fuck are you doing this?" Joe questions as he rolls his eyes, causing Wyatt to frown.
"You can cut the tension in this car with a knife. Peace y'all. I'm just gonna pull a fast one and back outta here 'cause I'm really not in the 'getting caught in the crossfire' kind of mood. See ya, ladies!" Lincoln says with a wink as he exits the car and walks away.
"Now look at what the fuck you did! You drove him away because of this unforgiving bitch," he suddenly shouts as he also exits the car.
"You know what, Joe?" I snap, "I'm glad I didn't forgive you, because God only knows that you're a brat who damn well doesn't deserve it."
He huffs loudly before stomping off, making me feel uneasy.
Wyatt and I stay in silence for a few seconds before I begin my walk again. He drives his car slowly next to me.
"Ashley. Please get in the car. Your cold is going to get worse."
"Leave me alone Wyatt."
I begin trekking again, irritated because his car is trailing next to me. I know I can't run because he's in a car. He can catch up to me. I cease my movement again to attempt to tell him to kindly piss off.
His eyes are pleading, begging for me to come into the car. I stop and look ahead of me. I still have about ten minutes left of my walk...
And that car looks so warm.
Fine. What the heck.
Wordlessly, I step into his car. He stares at me for a moment.
"Take a picture," I say, "it lasts much longer."
His eyes widen a little before he turns forward and begins rummaging through his glove compartment. He throws me a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos, which happen to be my favourite.
"I still remember your go-to sick day snack," he tells me.
At this point, I don't even know what to say, so the minute we reach our street, I rush out of the car and into my house, clutching the Party Sized bag of Doritos which will most likely last me all of fifteen minutes.
What? I'm a growing child.
I don't even hesitate to run to my room to take a nap.
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YOU ARE READING
Sweet Revenge
ChickLitWhen they were three, he chopped off her ponytails. When they were eight, he destroyed her dolls. When they were thirteen, he got his friends to beat her up and then threw her in the trash outside school. And the worst part? He's always gotten awa...
