Going 78 Miles Per Hour | ✓

24 | Over The Line

MIÉRCOLES
6:59 PM

Reid Harlow

I'm not some fucking servant.

I'm not the type of person who helps people.

I don't think the rest of the family got the memo and designated me as the type of person who does. I mean, what the fuck? Do I look like the type of person who tailors after people and serves everyone to their beck-and-call? I'm fucking Reid Harlow—and the last thing I'll be doing is following after people.

I set the standards. I don't fucking follow it.

My stare hardens at the sight of Ariah, who is trying to fix her hair for her dance recital. She looks different without her signature buns, but I think that's the objective of her grooming. She loops two hair-ties around each prospective bun, and is left with one extra in her hand.

Instead of heading back upstairs to return the hairband, she turns to me and holds out the singular black band. "Can you hold this for a second?" She asks, and when I hesitate to agree, she showcases her puppy eyes. "Please?"

I huff in annoyance, but nonetheless, take it within my palm. "Why don't you return it to your room?" I ask, just as she turns back to the portable mirror propped up against the railings of the stairs. "Aren't you finished?"

"I always wear my hair in two buns," she said, bouncing on her toes as she adjusts the buns on her head. "I want to switch it up. I don't know if I'll need that extra one."

I roll my eyes, slipping the hair-tie around my wrist. "I don't fucking understand."

"You're not a girl." Ariah shot back easily, almost too casual. "Sometimes, we like to change it up. Unlike you—who wear the same clothes every single day."

My expression drops. "I don't wear the same clothes everyday."

"Black-on-black. It's the same—every freaking day! I mean, if I didn't know you, I would probably think you were emo."

I clench my jaw, sharpening my eyes at her. "At least I don't look like the chipped cup in Beauty & The Beast."

Ariah simply smiles, showcasing the chipped front tooth I was referencing to. "That cup was cute. I don't know—"

"Ariah!" Sebastian yells from the kitchen, causing her to abruptly end her sentence. She whips her head to the door connecting the living room to the kitchen, and her eyes widen. "Come in here!"

She listens.

Ariah turns and heads towards the kitchen, leaving all of her things behind. Nini told me—before she left—to look after Ariah and to make sure she has everything she needs for her dance recital. Now that she's gone, I decided to pull out my phone.

I check the time, reading that it's nearing seven-thirty, the time Dahlia and I scheduled our next driving lesson.

I push myself off the railings and slip my phone back into my pocket. I don't know when Ariah's coming back, but it's not like her stuff is going to get fucking stolen. Nini told me to look after her for a minute—but that doesn't require me to show up at her show. Instead, I look to the hooks containing the car keys and grab Presley's. "Presley! I'm taking the car!"

And with that, I left.

I got into the car and drove to the park, noticing the sun slowly dipping underneath the horizon and leaving a canvas of colors in its place. It was supposed to be getting dark soon, which means that traffic will start to die down—which will be good for our next lesson.