after hours. | r.c.

twenty one

-☆- 

"LOOK, MILES, IM really busy. i don't have time for your shit right now," i huffed, feeling like steam was pouring out my ears.

"how are you, val?" he asked lowly, stepping up, his hand moving to my waist before i shoved him off. the nerve.

"now is not the fucking time." i stepped around him, but he blocked me from going any further.

"i just wanna talk," he said, his voice dripping with that stupid smugness like he was taunting me. god, he always does this. taunt my fucking ass, you whore.

"whatever the hell you want to talk about is probably fascinating, but i literally can't do this right now. so get the hell out of my fucking way, miles. you should've learned your lesson at the party." i spat at him, the frustration practically vibrating off me.

he sighed, glancing off with his jaw clenched, trying to keep that stupid temper in check. but finally, he stepped aside.

"thank you," i muttered and walked back to the table with sofia, trying to gather my things as quickly as possible. i could feel a bunch of eyes on me, still focused on what happened earlier. god, people are nosy.

"are you okay, val?" sofia asked, her eyes flickering between me and miles, who still lingered a couple feet behind us.

"yeah," i lied, trying to scoop up my purse and lanyard with my keys. "but i need to go. i'll see you later."

before she could even reply, i was already halfway out of the island club, not giving miles a second glance. i knew i was being rude, but i had bigger problems right now. i needed to speak with the pogues, and fast. whatever they were doing without my supervision couldn't be good. they always need babysitters.

my hands trembled as i gripped the steering wheel, knuckles turning white, the other hand on my phone as i kept dialing rafe. of course, he went to voicemail every damn time. the one time i actually need to reach him, he's unreachable. i know he's not gonna talk things out with john b; this is gonna get messy.

when i finally pulled into the parking lot, i spotted kie's car and the twinkie in two separate spots. thank god the restaurant was closed. no way were we having this conversation in front of tables of gawking customers.

i slammed the door open, the sound echoing as it hit the wall, leaving a dent. they all looked up, startled, and i saw the look on their faces.

"what in the actual fuck did you people do?" i demanded, standing there like i was ready to tear someone apart. they looked like they'd been caught red-handed, which they basically had.

"look, i can explain—" pope started quietly, trying to reassure me, but it didn't help.

"you can explain?" i snapped, voice dripping with sarcasm. "'laying low' means being invisible, alright? because clearly, you guys don't understand what that means, let alone how to do it." i scolded, my voice rising. i didn't even care who heard at this point.

"we didn't mean for it to go that way. we're sorry." sarah looked guilty as hell, like she just got caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

i bit my bottom lip, forcing myself to stay calm, letting them talk. "i'm curious about what happened, so enlighten me," i snapped, crossing my arms.