Brenda wanted a normal school year. Instead her mom died.
Salma needed space from her sister and terrible ex. Or else she'd lose her mind.
Delilah didn't think she'd have any more problems after moving far from her hometown. That was until she becam...
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❝I don't paint dreams or nightmares, I paint my own reality.❞ -Frida Kahlo
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🗝DELILAH 🗝
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I had a nightmare about this day. Shockingly, it was almost identical to this moment. It consisted of the idea of Wyatt and I crossing paths again, and it ended with me throwing up on him this time unlike Clive throwing up on me.
Hopefully I didn't end up doing the same thing in real life. That would be mortifying.
Frankly, I was surprised that Wyatt was interested in picking me up, let pick me up from the bus stop. If I were him, I would've hit the road long ago for not calling back. But there he was, sitting with his hands draped his steering wheel, peering in to the inky black Texas sky.
"You hungry?"
"I am." I replied. "You've done enough, though. I feel out of place asking to go grab something to eat."
"That's why I'm the one doing the asking," he said, smirking at me.
"I'm sorry." I blurted. "I would've called you back—I promise I would. But I lost your number that night." I went on to tell him about the projectile vomit that ruined my night. "It was gone in an instant."
"I was fearing that you would've lost it that way. It was dumb of me. I shouldn't have written it on your hand."
"No, I'm dumb for not realizing where I was putting my hand."
He cracked another glorious smile, causing me to mirror the joy written across his face. "What are you in the mood for?"
"There's a diner not too far from here. I like their nacho platter."
"Nachos it is." He chimed, handing me my phone. "Put in the address. And while you're at it, put in your number, too."
I croaked. "I..."
"I mean, unless you have a boyfriend or something."
"I don't," I assured him. "Remember. I told you Clive is just my best friend."
"Is there someone else other than your sidekick?"
"I'm his sidekick," I rectified. "It's his show. I just tag along. I'm bad with planning so he takes control a lot of the time on what we do. It's his rodeo."
"Well, is there another guy, though?"
"No." I said uncommittedly. My hesitation didn't come from his evasive question but that I didn't want to be with anyone anytime soon. I wasn't in the right place—mostly mentally—to be involved with a guy. "There isn't another person."
