#Chapter403
/"Are you done? Can we go?/" Arrick snaps my attention up, and I realize he’s downed his fifth beer, thrown his fork messily on top of his left-over food, which he barely touched, and is already putting his jacket on. He hasn’t even given me time to finish, or even seems to acknowledge that I have not done eating. I stare at him coolly and bite down the irritated urge to frown at him. Stomach tightening with both anger and anxiety.
This is exactly the crappy attitude from him lately that irks me so much. He is the one who should be groveling to me for what he has done to us yet has the nerve to act the way he is.
