Mick sat in the seat of Rhyle’s sleek black car, his mind racing. He was terrified, but he wasn’t about to let Rhyle see it. The fear bubbling inside him was carefully masked by an air of defiance. He turned to Rhyle, forcing a steady voice, “Where are you taking me?”
Rhyle’s eyes remained on the road, his expression inscrutable. “You’ll find out soon enough,” he said, a hint of amusement in his tone.
The car pulled into the parking lot of a grand, upscale bar. Mick’s stomach churned. “I have an important exam tomorrow. I can’t be here,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady.
Rhyle laughed, a rich, mocking sound. “Oh, come on, little rabbit. One drink won’t hurt. Besides, I’m sure you could use a break from all that studying.”
Before Mick could protest further, Rhyle was already guiding him into the bar. The place was lavish, filled with the soft hum of conversations and clinking glasses. Rhyle’s entourage was already there, and the moment Mick stepped in, he felt the weight of their stares.
Rhyle led Mick to a private booth and, without much ceremony, ordered a round of drinks. Mick hesitated as the bartender handed him a glass. “I don’t want this,” Mick said firmly, pushing the glass away.
Rhyle’s smirk widened. “Come on, Mick. Just relax. You need to unwind a bit.”
Mick tried to protest, but Rhyle was insistent. “Drink up. It’s not a request.”
Reluctantly, Mick took a sip, trying to appear unaffected. As the night wore on, Rhyle made sure Mick stayed by his side, engaging him in casual conversation and forcing more drinks upon him. Mick felt the effects of the alcohol, his head starting to swim, but he fought to maintain his composure.
Later, as they headed back to the car,Rhyle was still in a playful mood as they sat back in the car, his energy electric as he started driving like a maniac. He pushed the accelerator, the engine roaring as they sped through the streets. The car swerved and dodged other vehicles with reckless precision, and Mick, sitting beside him, clenched his fists, trying to remain calm.
Mick didn’t want to give Rhyle the satisfaction of seeing him rattled. He forced himself to act like nothing was wrong, but the speed and erratic movements were starting to take their toll. His stomach churned, and a wave of dizziness washed over him.
"Rhyle, slow down," Mick said, his voice strained but steady. "I don’t feel well."
Rhyle ignored him, his smirk widening as if Mick’s discomfort was just another part of the fun. The car whipped around a corner, and Mick’s vision blurred.
"Stop the car," Mick demanded, his voice firmer this time, but Rhyle didn’t even glance at him.
The dizziness worsened. Mick’s heart raced as he felt his stomach twist painfully. He had no choice. Desperate, Mick reached for the door handle, his hand trembling. He pulled it, and the door cracked open slightly, letting in a gust of air.
Rhyle’s eyes widened when he noticed. He slammed on the brakes, the car screeching to a halt on the side of the road. Mick flung the door open and stumbled out of the car, barely making it to the curb before he started vomiting.
For a moment, Rhyle sat in the driver’s seat, staring at Mick as realization hit him. Mick wasn’t acting. He wasn’t trying to make a point or put on a show—he was genuinely sick.
Rhyle stepped out of the car and approached Mick, his usual smugness replaced by a rare look of concern. He grabbed a bottle of water from the car, twisted the cap open, and handed it to Mick. Then, in a surprisingly gentle gesture, Rhyle began to pat Mick’s back, his touch almost soothing.
YOU ARE READING
Broken promises
Roman d'amour**Description:** Mick Williams, a boy blessed with both looks and talent, lives under the shadow of his father's disdain. Despite being adore by everyone for his kind heart and gentle nature, he is haunted by the guilt placed upon him by his father...
