When You Least Expect It

25

Chapter 25

Ilya was back in town from college, and instead of lending Carson a hand with hauling the numerous luggage Claudia packed for him, he was being a bit of a shithead.

"So, did my invite get lost in the mail?" Ilya leaned against my car, his arms bulging out his white shirt.

I was so focused on ogling his toned arms that I barely noticed Carson's throat clearing. "At least give me a hand." Carson's voice was slightly strained as he tossed the last bag in the trunk.

Ilya flashed a grin. "Ah, come on, dude. You got this. No need for us to break a sweat."

Their silent stare-off made me feel like I was intruding, trying to decode the silent conversation happening through their eyes.

Any kind of conflict always made me uneasy. Just as I was about to intervene, Miles called out, snapping the two out of their silent standoff. The moment passed just as quickly as it came.

"Dad said not to speed in your shitbox car," he said, standing by the door. While the boys were talking among themselves, Miles gestured for me to come over. Something hidden in his hands caught my attention.

My blood boiled as I closed the distance. He cannot be serious. There it was, nestled in his palm—a joint.

Though nothing catastrophic happened at the gathering yesterday, I couldn't help but feel uncomfortable with the thought of Carson ingesting drugs. Even though he was a quiet stoner, the fact that he had been high twice in front of me made me uneasy.

Claudia had ensured him in my care. She gave me a thorough rundown that morning on who to call, what to do, and what items to get in case of an emergency. When Carson heard us talking on the phone earlier, he just laughed to himself. It irritated me that he appeared to be looking down on me.

It wasn't just his cavalier attitude towards his own safety that bothered me; it was the subtle implication that he considered my concerns trivial. I got the impression from his condescending manner that he saw me as just another controlling carer, not as a friend who actually cared about his wellbeing.

With Miles' knowing smile, I reluctantly accepted the joint, stuffing it in my backpack. With all the stress Carson caused me, maybe it'll come into handy.

As the morning dew sparkled in the sun, we got ready to drop Ilya off at Davenport station, where he'd catch his ride back to campus. He'd crashed at Carson's house the night before.

"With Mom out the picture," Carson said then, his gaze flickering between us. "I'm taking the wheel."

"Seriously, Carson, you need to be careful. It's not worth risking your safety," I jumped in.

Carson waved off my words with a dismissive gesture. "Chill out, it's just a quick drive to the station. I'll be fine."

I shot a quick glance at Ilya, who stood nearby, his worried expression mirroring mine. It was clear neither of us was entirely convinced by Carson's reassurances.

Instead of pressing the issue further, Ilya simply nodded. "Alright, man. But if anything feels off, don't hesitate to let us know."

With a heavy heart, I watched as Carson took the keys and hopped into the driver's seat.

Ilya lounged in the back, Carson was behind the wheel, and I sat nervously next to him as we set off. The tension in the car was palpable. The only sound was the steady hum of the engine, punctuating the uneasy silence.