Ah, accidents. They're messy, inconvenient, and often avoidable if one were to simply pay attention to the road. But where's the fun in that? If I'd been more focused on driving instead of juggling an irritating phone call with my mother, this little mishap might never have happened.
But then I wouldn't have this perfect opportunity staring me in the face.
I leaned casually against my car, arms crossed as I watched the chaos unfold. Rhiannon was sputtering excuses, trying to deflect blame while her sister made thinly veiled threats of arson.
The scene was laughable. I could've admitted the truth, that the crash was as much my fault as theirs—but where's the satisfaction in that?
Revenge is a dish best served cold, and I'm nothing if not a patient chef. Rhiannon's little disappearing act after our night was still fresh in my mind.
