Going 78 Miles Per Hour | ✓

07 | Check Your Dashboard

MIÉRCOLES
5:16 PM

Reid Harlow

"You got detention? It's barely been two weeks!"

Presley drops his keys onto a hook, walking around us as he jumps onto the couch, extending his limbs to take as much space as possible. My eyes follow him for a second, before Nini snaps her fingers in front of my face and brings me back to reality.

"Harlow," she commands sternly, causing my eyes to shift focus. I clench down my jaw. "What did you do?"

I exhale, "I told a teacher to stay out of my shit and swore a couple of times in his classroom. He didn't like it and I got a slip," I take the paper back from her hands, the one that reads a warning to whoever is the guardian to Reid Harlow. "Happy now?"

"No, absolutely not," she said, her brows pulled together as she wears the disappointed motherly look. I've never gotten that before. "Look. I don't mind you swearing at home, or anywhere—but I don't want you to get in trouble for swearing. It's a stupid thing that could go on your record and affect your future."

My face drops, and my eyes soften comparably. I don't know why hearing Nini lecturing me about my future made me go soft—since she doesn't do it in a condescending way. A way that screams, or shouts, or makes me feel terrible about myself. It was caring, and filled with concern.

And I hate it.

I turn away from her, looking at the TV Presley has since turned on. It was tuned to some random channel, playing a movie mid-day. It looks stupid as hell, with cheap props and action sequences, but it was better than showing Nini that she somehow got to me.

"Harlow," Nini calls for me, which I refuse to acknowledge. I continue to stare down at the pictures moving, taking the time to regain my composure in holding up my front. The one that screams I don't need you. "Reid Harlow."

"What?" I snap gruffly, turning back to my foster mother. She stood a couple of inches shorter than me, probably around five-foot-nine.

"Try not to get into detention again," Nini pleads, her brown eyes warm with maternal glow, "and try not to swear in class. Please."

"There's no promises," I said choppily, "I do what I want and sometimes shit happens. What can you say?"

"That you need to take responsibility for your actions," she said with a scowl, not liking the attitude I'm projecting. "Sometimes things may be out of our control, but the way we take it is always in our control."

I press my lips together in a thin line, but say nothing else. She takes off that note, turning to Presley as he leans against the couch comfortably with his arm stretching out and the remote in hand.

"Presley," Nini calls, causing the guy to jump from spot, looking straight at our foster mother. He doesn't meet my eyes. "Don't you have some studying to do?"

"I just took Harlow home from detention. I'm taking a small break," he said with a cheeky grin. He has one dimple. "TV lets the mind relax. I have scientific research."

"Hmm," Nini said, unconvinced, but nonetheless, she nods her head. "I'm going back to work. The kids are taking a nap right now, could you watch them a little bit while I finish my project?"

Presley nods solemnly, "yes, ma'am!" He salutes her like an army sergeant, causing Nini to let out a couple of laughs. With that being said, she walks away from the living room and back to her office.

Presley drops his hand, finally turning his head to meet my gaze. For a second, I thought he was going to make a comment or say something condensing after that public fight we had during school.