Revenge #4
“I say.
I grab for my door handle, but Dylan reaches over and grabs my wrist.
“Wait,” he says.
I wrench my hand from his grasp and slap him across the face in one motion.
He pulls back over to his side of the car, blinking rapidly.
“My bad,” he says, shaking his head. “That’s on me. Don’t apologize. I deserved that slap.”
I spit out terse words. “I wasn’t going to apologize.”
He clears his throat and slowly holds out his hand, palm up. “May I see your phone?”
“No. Tell me who that pretty girl is. The photo is from Saturday night.”
He’s calmer now that we’re in the cool, dark underground parking level. He wiggles his fingers, his hand still outstretched for my phone.
“Jessica, I had a lot to drink that night.” He doesn’t sound angry now, just mildly annoyed.
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