t w e n t y e i g h t

285 11 0
                                    

I leave the house before 7.

Now that I'm driving myself to school for the first time I need to plan ahead. There seems to be a lot more done now that I'm doing everything by myself. Which includes driving on E to the gas station because I didn't care about a car anymore since I had a loving boyfriend who drove me everywhere anyways.

My dad was really becoming a great pain my ass.

I pull into a local gas station and groan at the pileup at the gas pumps. Circling around the pumps at least three times one in the middle finally opens up. I quickly secure a spot in front of a silver Mercedes, I read the time as I turn off my car. 7:30, I have enough time to wait in this line and pump gas.

I grab my wallet while swinging my door open.

"Whoa..."

I look up at the suave blond as he holds onto the top of my door peering at me through the window.

"Good morning to you too," He casually greets, "Ive never had a door to the face this early."

"Sorry," I quickly apologize, "I'm sort of running late."

"It's only 7:30," He says in confusion.

"I like to have time to spare."

I step out of my car and as I walk away Johnson closes the door for me while taking a few steps forward.

"I'll walk you in," He says, I walk beside him as we approach the entrance.

"Is Gilinsky out today?" He questions.

I fumble around my mind for a reasonable answer, "He's...umm...he's just busy."

He opens the right side of the glass door allowing me to step in first before coming in after me. The entire station is packed with morning customers from around in the same rush. The different roast of coffee almost smells like heaven but the clattering of feet and people having morning conversations were loud.

"On a monday morning?"

That did sound very unlike Gilinsky, especially to someone who's known him since fourteen.

"I mean he's having car troubles and it's just best if we don't ride together anymore," I hurriedly get out.

I secure a spot in line behind a pair of two kids who seems about my age. I can tell by how they're dressed they're probably brookhaven kids.

He chuckles a bit, "Tell him it's time to let that piece of shit go."

I join in his light laughter, "Donnie's doing work on it, it should be ready to ride by no time."

"So you met Noelle's dad?" He questions, I nod my head, "Coincidence or curiosity?"

"I told you my curiosity doesn't matter anymore."

He nods his head recalling our conversation this weekend, "Well I'm curious."

I look over my shoulder to him cocking an eyebrow, "What about?"

Before he can ask his question the cashier calls me next in line. I turn my attention away from Johnson and handing the middle aged man the cash in my hand and telling him my pump number. I step out of line allowing Johnson to go.

"I've been thinking about our talk at the ice cream stand," He continues not paying any attention to the interactions between him and the cashier, "Marilyn makes it seem as if you and jack are on terrible terms right now."

I shoot him a confused look, "No, it's nothing like that."

He steps away from the line walking past me leading the way back outside to our cars, "I'm not insisting that it is, but Marilyn-"

"Marilyn doesn't know what she's talking about!" I snap. Johnson glances over to me in shock by my sudden outburst, "I'm telling you that it's fine, who cares what Marilyn says?"

"Then why doesn't your dad like him?"

I glare up at him completely distraught my his invasive question. Luckily by the time I snap back to reality we've reached the pumps.

"You don't know what you're talking about Johnson so I suggest not asking anymore questions," I say monotonous, "Marilyn is just running her mouth, it's what she does. Everything between Jack and I is fine, everything with my parents is fine. Now I don't want to be late so I will see you at school."

***

this is short & sucks but it's just a filler chapter so it's whatever.

do u guys want to see a criminal/mafia/drug lord type book? i'm in a mood for a book like that.

Preachers daughter 2 + Jack Gilinsky Where stories live. Discover now