Going 78 Miles Per Hour | ✓

30 | Twisting And Turning (Part Two)

MIÉRCOLES
4:01 PM

Reid Harlow

I glance down at my phone.

The only thing keeping me sane right now is the cigarette tucked between my lips, letting a sense of euphoria overwhelm me as I inhale the nicotine. The painstaking silence in return is what's killing my buzz.

"No driving practice today?" I hear the backdoor behind me close, just as Presley steps out onto the deck. I spare him a glance, before facing back to the front. Presley drops into the seat next to me on the steps.

"She was supposed to..." I stop, shaking my head. It's stupid, talking to him won't fucking solve anything. "Never mind."

Presley chuckles but doesn't say anything, neither does he force an explanation. I think that night—locked outside our own house—shifted our relationship in some way. I wouldn't call it a positive, because I don't know where the fuck this might lead, but I know it's something.

We sat in silence as I took a couple more drags of my cigarette, while simultaneously checking for any notifications. A text, a voicemail, anything.

I feel something drop on my lap, and I look down to see the keys to Presley's Mustang. I turn to my foster brother, who looks ahead like he didn't just toss me his keys. "I don't need it today."

He turns to me. "What are you talking about?"

"She didn't call." I announce, dropping the keys back into his palm. The cigarette is nearly finished and I decided to drop the remainder to the floor and crush it beneath my shoe. "I'm not going to fucking teach her today."

"So, why are you outside?" He raised a brow, eyeing me. "Shouldn't you be like, I don't know, doing your homework or some shit? Do they still give homework in high school?"

"Yes, you dumbass," I roll my eyes, "but I already finished early. I think I'm like three, four weeks ahead of the class."

"Then go make it six weeks!" Presley encourages, causing a small chuckle to escape my lips. I don't say anything. "Or is there a reason why you're moping in the backyard?"

"I'm not fucking moping," I said, a bit defensive. He gives me a look. "It's just—I don't know, I just didn't want to go inside."

"Claudia is not home, if that's what you're worried about."

"I'm not."

"Nini and Sebastian are off with Ariah and Nico at the park."

"I know."

"Then what's the problem?"

"I don't fucking know." I growl, my patience growing thin around him and irritation radiates off of me. I suck in a breath, trying to calm myself. "I just—I have this feeling in my stomach."

"Is it butterflies?"

"What—no!" I declare, giving Presley a deadly glare. He puts both his hands in the air, surrendering. It reminds me of the scene a couple of nights ago. "It's not butterflies, or anything. It's just...intuition."

"Intuition? Like a sixth sense?" Presley queries. I don't know if he's trying to taunt me or is actually curious. "Are you going to tell me you see ghosts next because I've seen a couple of movies like that before and I can tell you, it doesn't end well for the me in this position—"

"I will stab you."

My foster brother pauses. Then, he scoots a little to the left. "Just so we're clear, that was metaphorically right?"