aidan
"what the hell was that?" he shouts, marching over so the quarterback can hear him better. his blood his pumping faster again, and he can feel his insides flare with anger.
"what was what?" everett tosses his football up and down, not even casting aidan a glance.
"you left when—"
"when you had your anxiety attack? yeah, i did."
"why?" why does aidan even care?
"because you told me to," he says simply, with a shrug of his shoulders.
YOU ARE READING
the brain project [1]
Krótkie Opowiadania❝ am i supposed to believe that you're not still a dick? ❞ ❝ yes. ❞ ❝ no. ❞ ❝ maybe. ❞