𝐋𝐢𝐚𝐫, 𝐋𝐢𝐚𝐫 | 𝐉𝐉 𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤

15. i'm in crain.

"Are you aware how old I am?"

I stand up, dusting off my hands. "Tend. I don't tend to go for them. Plus, I don't go for you, you go for me and I let you. Probably should go back in, don't want to give them the wrong idea."

"They've already got the wrong idea. I followed you into the bathroom, you can't get more wrong of an idea than that," he says honestly.

I nod, staring at him sitting on the bench lazily. "I–uh, drank way too much last night. And the brownies weren't a good idea. Nothing about last night was a good idea. What I mean is I'm sorry for being a little annoying."

"It was funny."

"You want the shirt back?" I ask, kicking a stick in an effort to not make eye contact.

He shakes his head, "The fish looked at me funny."

I look at him weirdly, "It looked at you funny? What were you on, smack?" I laugh.

He gets up, tucking the lighter back in his pocket, "Don't question me," he smirks down at me.

It's at times like this where I wish I was maybe three inches taller so I'd be taller than him and could look down at him. All judgy and glarey. I'd say cocky things and not have Little Man Syndrome.

He pushes the window open and gestures for me to go first, "And they say chivalry is dead," I mumble and begin pulling myself up and through the window with absolutely no grace.

"I just wanted to see your butt," he grins as I stand up on the other side.

I grab the window and pull it down before he can get in and lock it. He looks at me, I look at him, give him a smile at walk off.

Once I get back to the table JJ walks through the front door. Maybe that offset some of the suspicion? Probably not, but maybe. And I'll take maybe. Sliding back in my seat I chug the glass of gross-tasting water and relax back into the chair.

JJ is across from me, crossing his arms in front of him. But soon he walks around the table to stand behind me.

We all watch as Kie clears plates. She talks to us all. Us all except me. She won't even look at me, I don't know why she's mad at me, she's the one who called me a drunk slut who had it coming.

I'm still pissy and want her to stub her toe, but the idea of having a fude isn't fun. We're stuck together, so may as well not want to rip each other's ears off.

"So, you're living with Sarah Cameron?" She asks, walking back into the kitchen with her arms weighed down with stacks of plates.

John B looks like he's close to yanking all his hair out his head, explaining the situation over and over again to an unwaveringly annoyed Kiara. "It's just because her Dad bailed me out, right? And it's way better than foster care, which, by the way, is where I was about to go if Ward didn't—" he continues his defence.

I don't entirely understand why Ward, who just fired John B, would let him stay in his house. But what do I know?

I do know he's staying with my mortal enemy.

Pope interrupts him. "So, do you have a membership to the clubs now?" He asks. He sits sprawled out on the seat, looking way too relaxed. Maybe the golf club changed the wiring in his head.

John B takes a seat across from me, and next to Pope.

"I don't know, Pope," John B sighs, trying not to use his broken hand.

JJ stands behind me, his hands grab the top of the chair I'm sitting on as he leans against it. "What about one of those golf carts they drive around? You get one of them?" He asks, amused by his friend's exasperation.