Betrayed by My Own Companion

ey

project that went absolutely nowhere. My scalp ached from how tight the braid had been, so I ran my fingers through my hair, fluffing it out around my shoulders. It felt good

f the day started to melt away as I sank into the bench, my shoulders relaxing. I closed my eyes for a moment, just enjoying the quiet

about ten or fifteen minutes to kill. I pulled out my phone and scrolled mindlessly through

the bench sh

d my age, maybe a little older. He had dark hair, tousled like he didn't care about appearances, and eyes that we

me the

ipped off my sunglasses. "Why are you loo

e punchline of some private joke. The corners of his mouth lifted wide and I swear, for a split second

k a step away from the bench, keeping my eyes on him the whole time. He didn't follow immediately, but his smil

't back away-I didn't want to show fear-but I sub

?" he asked, reaching o

fresh-baked bread pulled from the oven. It sent a strange jolt through me and

b, his arm waving out the driver's side window. My heart practically leapt in relief. Without a second thought, I grabb

d, glancing

pulled away from the curb with a gri

Owen asked once we

ay... straight into a car waiting nearby. He got in the backseat with tw

red. "He just sat next to me a

, and I glared at him.

ou would've just screamed 'fire' and gotten every

lp the smile twitching at the corne

o the club, where I bartended most evenings

he cheek. "Yeah, I'll meet you ba

he seafood place. He was a waiter there and honestly n

aned against the brick wall, trying to collect myself. There was something about that guy that didn't sit right with me. The w

was... familiar? And that

om across the room and I tossed my bag into the employee cubby and slid behind the bar. The club

ors every so often. Part of me expected that guy to come back, like some bad mo

feeling woul

changed. Like som

sn't rea