Going 78 Miles Per Hour | ✓

29 | Jumper Cables

SÁBADO
7:14 PM

Reid Harlow

"This is child neglect." I scowl, throwing one of the rocks decorated at the floor of the flagstone patio. I sat at the edge of the steps of the raised deck, fighting a gust of wind blowing against my skin and creating an involuntary shiver. It made me more pissed off. "I'm about to fucking call the CPS on Nini and Sebastian."

"Don't you dare." Claudia threatens from the roundstone bench circling the firepit. She's attempting to create a heat source. The problem with outdoor gas fires is: it needs a lighter to act as a catalyst to activate the first flame. Since her loving parents locked us outside the house without a warning, she didn't have a chance to grab one.

But I had mine.

I just didn't want to help her.

"Look at it from this side, Claudia." I push myself off the stairs, outstretching my arms to showcase our surroundings. "It's nighttime. We're trapped outside in the middle of winter. It's going to get colder, we're going to fucking freeze, and all you fucking do is sit there and defend them." I pause, turning around to glance back at the backdoor and the kitchen light that's still on. "Do you fucking hear me?!"

"Shut up, Harlow. You're going to piss the neighbors off." Presley said, standing up from the loveseat of the patio chair. He stops before exiting from underneath the pavilion, crossing his arms and leaning against the hybrid wooden-cobblestone post. "You act like they didn't leave us blankets, pillows and sleeping bags."

"That's not any better." I snap, shifting my gaze to my foster brother. The one person I liked, to an extent. If the whole situation with Dahlia didn't happen, I would've considered keeping in contact with him after I leave. Now, every time I look at him, he just pisses me off.

For being surface-level with me.

For not showing me who he really is.

For wanting Dahlia.

"I wish the fucking glass had hit you." I sneer, turning away from him and heading towards the adirondack chair where Nini dropped off the blankets and pillows. Maybe I could find something in this pile, something that could get me out of this god-awful situation.

I hear footsteps following me, and before long, a hand clamps itself on my shoulder. "Harlow..."

"Don't fucking touch me!" I roar, shoving Presley off of me like he was a disease. I hated myself for that, as Presley stumbles back a couple of steps. His eyes widened, like he couldn't believe what just happened—but at the same time, he understood.

Stop it.

Stop it.

Fucking react!

"Harlow..." Presley continues delicately, as he offers out both his hands in surrender. His open palms face me, his eyes caring and wide. I could see the outline of his jaw tightens for a split second before relaxing. "I'm not...I'm not the enemy here."

I clench my jaw, not saying anything. I knew I had more buried than just Presley and Dahlia, and Presley not reacting to me. I just didn't want to admit it.

They say silence is worth a thousand words.

"Don't start a fight in the middle of the night," Claudia warns from the firepit, and I spare a glance in her direction. She covers her body in a blanket, trying to pop the charcoals on the firepit to start a fire. "We're already out here, the least we could do is fucking get along."