Billionaire's Childhood Love

XLVII. A Prince, Not a Saint

Joshua's POV:

I look at him.

He looks at me.

"Look at each other any longer, and I think you may have a closet thing going on," Ahmend said.

We groan.

Stop.

Our glares return.

"Get a room," Ahmend commented.

We roll our eyes. "I'd rather die," we said.

Ahmend stifles a laugh, "Why don't we just skip the whole cat-and-mouse game. Go on, make out."

I turn my head towards the window and ignore Ahmend's comment. The more you respond, the more you fuel his idiocy.

I can see his reflection, which irritates me more.

His leg touched mine.

"Mind moving over?" I spat out.

"Only when you stop leering at me."

I scoff, "Leering? At your bitch ass face?"

He lifts a brow, "Oh. My bad. You were looking at yourself this whole time."

I grab his shirt and pull him inward, "You-"

"Woah. Woah. Woah. No blood in my new car," Ahmend said. "Now, let go of him, or else I'll pull this car over."

I release his shirt.

Ahmend looks at the rearview mirror. "Tyson. Why don't you change seats with Ricardo?"

Tyson pokes his head out from behind Ricardo's steroids, inflamed body. He looks at me, then Ricardo, and back towards me. "Pass."

Among the bickers of, who want to sit where and with whom, blue and red sirens made their appearance.

"Shit," Ahmend said.

The police officer got out of his car and made his way towards us. Ahmend rolls down the window and smiles widely, "Good day, officer. How can I help you?"

The officer turns his head slightly to inspect the inside of the vehicle but couldn't. He chews the gum in his mouth, "Did you realize how fast you were going, son? 120 in a 60."

Ahmend's eyes widened, "Was I? My apologies, it won't be happening again."

I'm certain the officer is rolling his eyes behind the dark sunglasses, "License and registration."

Ahmend exhaled, "I'm certain we can work something out, officer."

"License and registration."

Ahmend groans slightly before popping the glove compartment for the registration. He took out his wallet and slipped out his license along with five hundred dollars. He hands everything to the police officer.

I slap his arm, "Ow!" He said, rubbing his arm slightly.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I ask.

"Bribing," he stated. "I can't get another strike on my record. My mummy is up in my ass for the first two."

"And you think she will be okay when she finds out you bribe a police officer?"

"She will...if she doesn't know." He turns around and points a stern finger at me. "Don't you pull out the goody two shoes and tattle."

"You're a prince."

"I'm a prince, not a saint."

"You-" I stopped talking when the officer came back.