11 | Call Me Bacon

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Chapter 11 | Call Me Bacon

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        The start of the drive is quiet, the only voice to be heard coming from the little British woman tucked away inside the GPS.

        Turn left. In three hundred feet, merge into the right lane to continue on Maker Street. Keep left at the fork. Rerouting.

        I feel his eyes on me as we drive and Xo won't let me ignore it. Every few moments my phone buzzes with another one of her nasty ass texts. She's ten messages in when I stop checking them.

        He's looking at you.

        Bitch, he's lookin at you. Look back wtf

        He need to be lookin at me with his fine ass cause you playing

        His lips are pink as hell, what you think that mouf do? ;)

        I swear if you don't hop on it, I will. Just a waste of fine ass man meat

        And he got big hands, girl you know what that mean

        Fingers clean as hell. Nails trimmed and shit. I bet he get manicures

        I think our ship name should be Xonovi, that's sexy as dick

        Ya know, I've always said I only want two kids but if we ever got married no doubt I'd be pregnant for like the first ten years.

        Shit all he would have to do is look at me and I'd be ready to pop another one out

        As soon as I read the last text, I lock my phone and focus on the jumble of cars and concrete, ignoring the notifications still rolling in.

        "So what you doing living with the Grandors? Are you a niece or something?" he questions, glancing sideways at me. Seconds pass and my phone vibrates with three new text notifications.

        I sigh. "No, and it's not really something I wanna go into detail about so..."

        Xo reaches forward to pinch the back of my arm. I wince and wrap my hand around the spot she nipped between her slim fingers, turning to glare at her.

        "Girl, what? I'm not about to sit here and tell this dude my whole life story like I just know his ass like that."

        The last thing I want to discuss is my foster status because it always leads back to the same damn question: What happened? And the answer to that is the last thing I want to be thinking about right now. Plus, I don't want my circumstances to define shit for me. People find out a handful of details on my situation and think that's enough to judge me.

        His lips part briefly only to mesh together moments after.

        I roll my eyes and add people pleaser to the list of things I've noticed about Xoë. 

        Whenever I meet someone new I study them to learn how they move: do they thrive off attention, do they stay to themselves, are they pushovers, are they stubborn and opinionated, etc.

        And the more I pick up on, the better because I learned the hard way that the best way to get through the shuffle with a shred of sanity is to become a situational chameleon. Blend the hell in.

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