1642734778_punk-57-pdf

I bite my tongue, too fucking angry to deal with her right now.
I start the engine and lay on the horn, barely waiting for the nosy little
shits to move their fucking asses before I step on the gas. Students squeal
and rush out of the way as I speed out of the parking lot, putting as much
distance as possible between me and everyone there.
Everyone except Ryen.
I pull out onto the road while light sprinkles of rain hit the windshield,
and I stare at the paint and shit all over my hood, my hands gripping the
steering wheel. I’m going to kill him.
“Here,” Ryen says. “I don’t want this.”
I’m glaring ahead, but I shoot a glance over, seeing her hold up Annie’s
blue scarf. She must’ve seen it in her Jeep before the fight happened.
“Just take it,” I bite out. “It was a dick move, ruining yours. I owed
you.”
“I don’t want it,” she insists and tosses it at me. “Another girl’s perfume
is on it, so you should let your skank know she left it in your backseat.”
I shake my head.
Bitch.
I take the scarf and stuff it in the center console. “Fine,” I grit out.
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her. To let her know that it was my
sister’s and somehow I liked the idea of Ryen having a part of her and what
a dumb idea that was, because why would I want a vile brat like her to put
her hands on anything that belonged to Annie?
But I would never show her weakness. I never want her pity.
I take a left on Whitney and drive down the road, sparsely populated
with a few gas stations and trees, and pull into a self-service car wash,
parking in one of the empty bays.