BOOK TWO OF THE SCARLETT CHRONICLES |
After being kidnapped as a young child, seventeen year old Scarlett Grey found her way home to her family. For months, she struggled to find a balance between the girl she'd left behind and the girl she had beco...
If you haven't read my post from the Wattpad Block Party yet, you really should. It kind of sets up the events of this long awaited chapter!
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THE DRIVE TO Declan and Rachel's apartment was quick, with hardly any traffic late on a Saturday afternoon. Sienna and I were quiet mostly, I was too emotionally exhausted from our earlier conversation to bother forming words. It wasn't uncomfortable silence though, as we'd come to an understanding that my choices as of late had no effect on our friendship.
When Sienna pulled her silver Audi into the parking spot beside Rachel's car, I couldn't help but cringe at the close proximity. "God, your driving hasn't improved much, has it?"
Sienna simply flipped me the finger as she climbed out of the car, not bothering to wait for me as I snickered at the offended look on her face.
Grabbing my bag out of the backseat, I hopped out after Sienna and headed towards the familiar elevator doors that led to the penthouse above. The journey upwards grew seemingly shorter every time I braved it, and before I even realized it, the doors were opening on the polished monochromatic theme of the Morgan twins's apartment.
"Hey, Sen," Rachel's disembodied voice called from another room. "I'll be out in a minute."
Sienna appeared unfazed and entirely comfortable walking into the apartment, not even bothering to kick off her shoes before she gracefully flopped down over the arm of the sofa. "No worries, I brought a straggler along," she called back.
That seemed to get Rachel's attention, as not a minute later, she sauntered into the living room, her dark hair still dripping from a recent shower. She was just finishing pulling on and buttoning up her dark-washed jeans.
A knowing smile twisted at her lips. "I should've known," she snickered, crossing her arms across her chest. "Why else would my brother kick me out of the house for the weekend if not to hide away with his secret girlfriend."
I rolled my eyes and bit my tongue against the instinct to correct her use of the pronoun. "Ha, ha, Rae. We're not 'hiding away'," I insisted, adding air quotes to emphasize her words. "We just can't keep hanging out at my house, pretending to study."
