Stained

Chapter 137

"Of course I will man." Dariel shoots me a hesitant look as if he doesn't feel comfortable saying it in front of me.

Which is understandable. We're strangers.

I'm about to excuse myself, but Hannah speaks up before I can, "oh don't worry about her. She didn't know who you were until I told her. And she's not the gossiping type."

I don't know what to say to that so I opt for staying silent. I know I must look and seem awkward, but I don't know how to be anything else.

"Technically, you didn't know me either," he rebukes.

"Wrong. I'd heard of you." Hannah rolls her eyes. "You have a bit of a reputation if you hadn't realised already."

Dariel rubs the back of his neck, licking his lips in an attempt to conceal a cheeky smile.

"So what's her name?" Hannah prods, wiggling her brows.

"Dove," dariel answers.

"What, like Dove the soap? Give me a last name."

Smiling, Dariel shakes his head. "Dove Smith."

"Never heard of her. Have you?" She asks me.

I shake my head no. I hardly know anyone and most people scarcely know me. Just the way I like it. The very few that do know me are Hannah and Sarah's friends but they only know me as Hannah and Sarah's other best friend.

"What high school did she go to?"

Dariel gives Hannah a strange look. "How the fuck am I supposed to know? I'm no stalker."

I tuck my lips in to suppress a laugh.

Hannah blows out a frustrated breath. "It's called being attentive and showing you want to get to know her. Which in return shows her she means more to you than just a quick fuck. Ugh, I have to teach you so much." She gets up off the stool and joins me back in the kitchen to pack her things.

He frowns. "How you gonna teach me when you're leaving my brother?"

Hannah suddenly gets in Dariels face — leaning over the dining counter, she points a harsh finger at him. "Stop with that shit. No matter what's going on with mine and your dumb arse brother's relationship, I will always love you and be in your life."

He smiles a strange, sad sort of smile.

"Do you have a picture of her?" Hannah asks, to no doubt lighten the suddenly sad atmosphere.

"I do. But those pussyholes have my phone and won't give it back." He rolls his eyes.

"Well you have my number, so send it to me once you get it back."

Unexpectedly, Dariels mood heightens, his eyes enhancing with an emotion I'm unable to decipher. "Yo, if you ask Hayden to give me my phone back, he'll do it."

Hannah shakes her head. "I'm not talking to him."

He presses his hands together in a pleading gesture. "Oh c'mon, do it for me."

"There's no point, he won't listen to me."

"Yes, he will."

"No, he won't."

"Trust me he will."

My head swivels back and forth between them like a cartoon character as they squabble. It almost gives me whiplash, until finally, Hannah cuts me some slack and chooses not to respond anymore.

Dariels eyes dart around the room in a wild panic.

I can't help feeling bad for him. I try not to convey my emotions because I first-hand know how it feels to be pitied. However, I can't help the sentiment. I've personally never experienced withdrawal symptoms, but as I look at him, there's no doubt in my mind that he is currently experiencing them; a light layer of sweat is matted to his forehead, his eyes are ruby red and extremely cautious of his surroundings and his hands and legs are constantly shaking profusely.