- 8.
He was tall and lean.
One hand casually held his black bike.
A picture of cool indifference.
People glanced his way.
He didn’t seem to notice, or care.
I purposely slowed my pace, widening the gap
between us.
But then he slowed down too.
The setting sun cast long shadows, his
stretching to touch my feet.
He turned, looking at me.
“Dude, snails are faster than you.”
Me: …
く
Way too familiar.
We walked all the way back to my surprise,
the same apartment complex.
He noticed too, a smirk playing on his lips.
Maddie told me his name was Ethan Wilde.
Northwood’s resident bad boy.
Apparently, he had an entourage that
followed him around, even calling him “Dad.”
Me: Mini mafia boss?!
Later, at lunch in the cafeteria, I saw a group
of guys crowding around Ethan, shoving their
meal cards at him.
“Ethan, I’m broke this month, spot me?”
“Me too, Dad. You’re the best.”
He seemed to sense my stare and glanced
over, his voice nonchalant.
“Get lost.”
But he still took their cards.
They scattered.
So that’s what the whole “Dad” thing was
<
about.
