Brandy’s POV
I hate to admit it, but I hate that Kane isn’t here, even though I knew he wasn’t coming over, that I’d told him to go to see his friends, a little part of me still hoped that he might turn up at my door anyway.
I’m still sitting here, in my living room, curled up in the corner of the couch at nearly midnight, pretending to watch a documentary on Orangutangs, but my ears are pricked for noise outside. The rumble of an engine, the sound of tyres on the asphalt, the thud of a door as its pushed closed, none of which appear.
I glance at my watch for the fiftieth time, then at my cell that is sitting beside me, which I have picked up repeatedly all night before replacing it back on the cushion, because I have no right to call him and ask him to ditch his plans for me.
I blow o
