CHAPTER EIGHT: RISHA
S
taring
at the back of Cynthia’s head as she cuddled with Martin on the couch, I drew my brows together sharply. Sipping my seltzer water through a straw, my lips dragged in a frown as I watched through narrowed eyes while my best friend paused her movie.
“Staring at me like that won’t get you out of going to this dinner, Risha. Martin agreed to carry your ass to the car, so just go get ready. You’re going regardless if you wear a nice dress or those t-rex pajamas you got on.” Groaning loudly, I dropped into a kitchen chair to cross my arms over my chest like a child that didn’t get what she wanted.
And what I wanted was to not go to this dinner; that desire had only strengthened after this morning.
“It’s almost 5:30… and I’m not lying about dragging your ass to
