Chasing Innocence | ✓

11 | unexpected findings

"What do you mean she had to leave?"

I'd barely been in the bathroom for more than five minutes. When I'd walked out, the table had been empty; a fifty dollar note and our bill sat there alone. The waitress had smiled at me as she picked it up. I'd had to ask her where the hell everyone had gone.

I stand in front of Braxton as he lights a cigarette outside the diner, cupping his hand around the lighter as it latches onto the cancerous stick. I grimace, looking away.

"I mean she left," he deadpans, blowing smoke straight into my face. I glare, holding my mouth shut.

"Second hand smoke is a thing, you know," I snap. "You might be choosing to die of cancer, but don't put that shit on me."

"You're fiery, aren't you?" he smirks.

I ignore his jab, glaring at him. "Where did she go, then? And thanks for waiting. You couldn't have just sat at the table?"

"You wanted me to wait for you?" he laughs, shaking his head.

"Answer the damn question, Braxton."

"I hate that name," he murmurs, eyes narrowing into slits. "It's Brax."

"Answer the question then, Braxton," I bite my lip, hiding my smile as he grinds his teeth.

"I don't know, something about needing to get her daughter from daycare. Guess her husband forgot? Who the fuck cares."

"Great," I grit my teeth. Unlocking my phone, I open the Uber app.

I go to type in my address first, when I stop. My finger hovers over the screen as I think about my sudden clarity from the bathroom.

"Need a ride?" I ask, clenching my fist. The words physically pain me.

He snorts. "I'm good."

"How are you getting home exactly? We aren't close—"

"I'll call my brother," he interrupts.

"Is that who the guy from court was? Marco?"

Braxton doesn't answer as he dials a number on his phone. I watch his as he turns away from me, a hand on his hip. He mumbles incoherently, his voice rising steadily in anger. He curses before clutching his phone tightly, pulling it away from his ear.

"Still don't need that ride?" I smirk.

"I can get my own," he growls.

I cross my arms over my chest, sighing as I turn towards him. "You're seriously going to turn away a free ride?"

I watch him rake a hand through his hair, tugging at it lightly. He turns to face me, unable to meet my gaze. I smile triumphantly, knowing he's about to give in.

"Fine," he grits.

Hiding my smile, I ask for his address which he gives me reluctantly. I type mine in after, aware that I don't necessarily want him to know where I live.

The Uber approaches minutes later. Braxton moves first, opening the back door for himself. As I go to follow him, he shuts it. I shake out my hand, ignoring the simmering anger.

I open the door, noticing Braxton sitting right there. He doesn't acknowledge me; doesn't even bother to move over to at least the middle seat.

Well, two can play at this game.

Maybe I should be the bigger person, but I can't help it. Instead of going to the other door, I move over Braxton. Intentionally, I place my hand on his thigh, digging it hard into his pants. He grunts, placing his hand on my waist. His hand flexes as he grips the material of my dress.