I don’t care. Or at least, Ishouldn’tcare.
I sigh, throwing back the covers and climbing out of bed.
Enough.
I have a day to enjoy, and I’m not going to let some arrogant, insufferabledriverruin it.
* * *
By the time I emerge into the living space after my shower, Jas and Emma are already at the dining table, both looking like complete opposites of each other.
Jas, ever put together, is sipping an iced coffee while browsing something on her phone.
Emma, meanwhile, is slumped dramatically over the table, sunglasses perched on her nose again as if the dimly lit room is too much for her to handle.
"Morning," Jas says, not looking up.
Emma lets out a low groan.
I smirk. "Feeling fragile, are we?"
"Dead," Emma mutters. "Don’t speak to me until I’ve had at least three more coffees and maybe a priest."
I chuckle as I sit down, reaching for some fruit from the spread in front of us.
“You didn’t even have that much to drink at dinner, did you?” I ask.
That’s when my phone buzzes.
I freeze, my hand hovering over the bowl of strawberries as the screen lights up.
Frederic.
Oh,fuck.
Emma’s halfway through answering my question as I reach for my phone, grabbing it so fast that it nearly skids off the table.
My heart launches itself straight into my throat as Jas glances up at the sudden movement, and I immediately force myself to act normal.
Totally calm. Completely chill.
Nothing to see here.
Thankfully, neither of them notice anything unusual. Emma has just finished her rant about hangovers lasting for more than one day and is now busy groaning into her coffee, and Jas is still focused on whatever it is that she’s doing on her phone.
I subtly tilt my screen away as I unlock it, my pulse hammering as I sneakily read his message.
You’re welcome.
I assume that means you like them.
I swallow hard, my fingers tightening around the device.
This is fine. Totally, utterly, completely fine.
In fact, this isnothing. It’s just a simple, polite response.
I don’t even need to reply.