I halt my steps as soon as I get to the front door and turn to face her. “My husband keeps telling me to open one up.”
Her mouth parts. “You should.”
I shrug my shoulders. “I know it’s a good move. I’m just still too nervous to do it.”
She opens the door. “Well, if you ever need help with it, let us know. My husband invests in small businesses.”
“I will keep that in mind. Thank you,” I say, giving her a small wave as I head down the porch steps.
I get in my car and let out a sigh as my car engine hums to life. Dropping off desserts to her always makes me nervous. I feel like she has such high standards, given how she lives and her looks. But she obviously likes my desserts and always returns for more. I need to stop being nervous.
I slow my car down as I get to a four-way stop. The car on my right side goes by, and I sit and stare at it while it drives across. As soon as I step on the gas, I drive-through, passing a truck that looks familiar. I take a second glance and notice it’s Zayn’s.
Where’s he going? His job sometimes does house calls. I wouldn’t doubt this ritzy neighborhood prefers house calls. I pull out my phone and call him. It rings repeatedly on the other end until it goes to voicemail.
Weird.
I throw it to the back of my mind and continue home.
Rya: Let’s go clubbing this weekend.
Violet: winced face emoji
Rya: What does that mean?
Violet: I don’t care to go clubbing anymore.
Rya: You went for our bdays.
Violet: Because it was our birthdays.
Rya: Come on.
Rya: Ask Zay? I’m sure he’s down.
Violet: Does Ez want to go?
Rya: No, he’s a bore like you. So I think if we all go, he’ll go.
Violet: You’re a bitch.
Rya: How?
Violet: Calling me a bore.
Rya: Well, come on. You don’t like to do anything anymore.
Violet: I like to do stuff. Clubbing just isn’t fun anymore.
Rya: Why not?
I hear the sound of the back door opening. I look over my shoulder while sitting on the couch and see Zayn walk in with his gray work pants and white, oil stained shirt. “Hey,” I call out.
“Hi, babe.”
Violet: I’m sick of the hangovers.
Rya: You don’t have to drink.
