20km/h.
Ryan checked the speedometer while driving Chaylen’s car.
Guilty and disappointed in himself, Slyvester was curling himself like a ball of thread. He was pouting while looking outside the window, trying to reminisce about what should have done and what he should haven’t done.
Meanwhile, at the back, Chaylen was sleeping. There was a huge red swollen bump on his forehead. He fell hard on the floor when Slyvester stepped on the brake. Thankfully, he was too drunk, and he didn’t know what happened.
“You should have told me that you can’t drive a car,” Ryan nagged.
Pouting, Sylvester said, “If I say that, it will make me so uncool.”
“Let’s see if you still care about being cool or not once, you’re dead.”
“But we’re still alive.”
“BARELY, YOU IDIOT.”
“Tss,” Slyvester clicked his tongue, avoiding meeting her gaze.
“I should have asked Kyle instead. Maybe he can drive better than you.”
