“Seriously? It’s a lame event. I’ve got better things to do here. It’s not about her, man. I’m totally over it. And I wish her well… Nope… Actually, I don’t care… I’m done…” It was Nick, speaking to somebody on the phone. “You can’t blackmail me into agreeing to this! That’s not fair, man! Come on!” He sounded frustrated this time. Like the person on the other line said something he could not say no to, even if he didn’t like it.
I turned around and found him sitting on his reclining chair. His hair was in total dishevel and he was wearing a pair of dark blue pajama pants and a white shirt.
I heard him take a deep breath. Then he said, “I’ll think about it. But trust me, if you’re cooking something in your head, it’s not going to work, man. That ship has sailed. Talk to you later.”
Ni
