Luggage Bitch

Chapter 17: Give Me One Good Reason, Why I Have To Dance?

Sam's POV:-

Starry nights, car-ride, and my favorite ice cream. That's what he had promised, the stupid boy. I sigh and hug my legs. I was sitting near the swimming pool, watching the wind make soft ripples on the water. Let me tell you how I got here.

My night officially had its lousy start when my mom called and told me that dad sprained his knee. He was in pain and couldn't move. Doctors have advised good rest, and if possible, abstaining from work for a few days. There was nothing to worry about, but it's my father, and he's suffering. How can I not worry?

I almost called Max, but Becca told me to go out as it would cheer me mood. If I stay in, I will overthink and make it worse.

The weather was temperate, so I wore a floral camisole top with denim shorts. Along with that, I wore simple white sneakers and left my hair open. I didn't change my earrings or put on lipstick. But I put on some eyeliner and Chapstick out of respect for the party. 

"Sorry, I'm late," Max says, distracted when I get into his car. "No worries," I tell him, but he was shuffling around adjusting his seat. Still unsatisfied, he starts the car. "Do you want me to drive?" I offer, seeing him scowl harshly at the road.

"No," he shakes his head, relaxing his face. "It's fine. It's a short drive... How are you?" he asks, glancing at me. "I'm good," I reply. "You?"

"Good, good," he mutters before honking loudly at the car in front of us to give space. I look out the window idly observing the heavy traffic, my mind preoccupied with concerns for my father.

I step on something in the footwell of the car. It felt like a handkerchief. I bend down to feel around my feet and lift the item, intending to place it on the dashboard. My circulatory system had a mini breakdown.

"I beg your pardon?!" I look at Max in disbelief, holding up the lacey thong by its waistband. Since we passed the main road, Max was now driving more easily. He looks at me, then my hand. His eyebrows raise high. "Is that yours?"

If he weren't driving, I would have slapped him. "No," I growl. "It was already in the car."

His eyes widened as he understood what I was insinuating. "No. Sam, no!" he exclaims. "Shit, no way. That is not me. I swear," he denies, alarmed. 

"Max, stop the car," I order quietly. He parks the car at the side of the quiet road. The lights from the party could be seen from here. But I'd rather walk back right now than go to a party with him.

"Sam, wait. You have it all wrong," Max turns around in his seat to face me. "Wil borrowed my car this evening. It must be his new girlfriend's. Please, just calm down," he begs. 

"I want to go back," I tell him. "Now," I add firmly when Max opens his mouth to say something. My body was boiling in anger. I could not even feel the sadness or any feelings of betrayal. Just red, hot, anger. He nods silently, seeing my pissed face and starts the car. "Hold on; I'm going to the backseat," I announce.

"I think that might be more... Uhmm..." he says uncomfortably. I grimace in disgust and shift to sit in the corner of my seat. I was about to tell him, that I'm calling a cab when Wil shows up on the pavement miraculously, with a girl at his arm.

"Hey buddy boy, and his buddy girl," he cheers, leaning down to look inside. "That is mine!" the girl suddenly blurts out when she sees the thong that I had thrown in the backseat. "I thought I had ripped it," Wil muttered making the girl giggle and blush. She finally had the grace to looked embarrassed as she picked up her underwear when she realized we were all watching her. She mumbles an excuse and goes away.