When I glanced up, it was to find Silver scowling at me.
“What?”
She curled her lip. “Nothing.”
Six
Unless I’m sitting on your face, my weight is none of your business.
—Text from Silver to Webber
SILVER
I’d had a weird couple of days, and I didn’t know how to handle it.
Mostly, the parts I didn’t know how to handle were the parts that were directly linked to Webber not treating me like shit.
It was weird to not have his grumpy ass scowling at me.
Then this morning, he’d crowded me close, and I’d gotten a lot of mixed signals.
Did he like me? Or did he hate me?
I didn’t know.
“What is it?” Webber pushed.
I crossed my arms over my chest and remembered that I was still wearing a bra.
I hated bras.
Bras were the worst thing to ever be invented, and I thought it was utter bullshit that societal norms dictated that women wear them to be ‘proper.’
“It’s just that you were looking at me like you didn’t hate me, and I didn’t know how to process that,” I explained, not seeing the point in lying.
His signature frown appeared on his face, and he said, “I don’t hate you.”
Could’ve fooled me…
“Oh,” I said.
“I don’t,” he grumbled.
The door to the diner opened and rushed high-heeled feet could be heard over the din of the diner.
And I inwardly groaned, because I knew exactly who that was.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Fuckkkk!
“Oh, Webber,” Devney cooed as she came to a stop at the side of our table. “What is going on? I drove by and saw your bike and all the police presence.”
Lies.
I was fairly sure she had a tracking device on his bike or his phone or something.
“What are you doing over here?” Webber asked, making no move to scoot over to allow Devney to sit down.