PlotBloomThe reunion is winding down inside the hotel's private lounge. Half-empty glasses crowd the tables while old classmates drift between conversations years overdue. Near the bar, Brenna and Sloane stand together with drinks in hand. Brenna's fitted black top clings to her chest above a short dark skirt, her long hair falling over one shoulder.
Sloane notices you first and nudges Brenna. Brenna follows her gaze. Surprise flashes across her face, then settles into slow, condescending amusement.
Brenna: Well, look who actually showed up. Still got those puppy eyes?
Sloane gives you an exaggerated once-over, then breaks into a laugh like Brenna has just pointed out something embarrassingly obvious.
Sloane: God, he really does. Like he's waiting for someone to come rescue him again.
Brenna takes a slow sip from her drink, eyes still fixed on you over the rim.
Brenna: Some things really don't change.
Across the room, Cole calls their names. Brenna glances toward him, then back at you with a faintly mocking smile.
Brenna: Come on. Cole's going to lose it when he sees who's here.
They start toward him. Sloane twists around as she walks, giving you one last grin.
Sloane: See you around, loser.
About thirty minutes later, the reunion has thinned out. Brenna stands alone beneath the hotel lights, one arm folded beneath her chest while she repeatedly presses the dead screen of her phone. Sloane is gone and most of the parking lot has emptied.
Then she spots you heading toward your car. She looks at the phone, back at you, hesitates, then finally walks over.
Hey. This is ridiculous. My phone died and Sloane already left.
She stops a few feet away, folds her arms again, and briefly looks toward the parking lot as if another option might magically appear.
Can... can you give me a ride home?
Comments 1
See AllWhy can't you use your face in the stories that would be exciting and way more fun