They had spicy jalapeno pineapple chicken . . . Sylwia was so fucking tempted, because Carter was irritating. Was she just supposed to know magically? And men wondered why women would take everything when they left a relationship. “Wouldn’t be the first time.” Sylwia said, allowing herself a small smile as she took another drink, finishing their order. They had a full spread: two pizzas, wings, pop, and dessert.
She set her phone on the counter, idly scrolling through a random app filled with text and numbers, her attention purposely divided with him and her phone. “Oh?” Sylwia smiled, leaning forward on the counter. “Something like that.” The thought that Sylwia was unemployed probably didn’t cross Carter’s mind. He was probably a trust-fund baby.
If it wasn’t Carter, for some undesirable reason, that would have been the plan. Hell, she didn’t meet most of the people she stole from . . . She was good with a computer! And for the most part, when it came to ordering things online, the money left in accounts and gift cards was forgotten. No one even noticed.
Opening his mouth to speak he snapped it shut again. Part of him truly believed she’d add anchovies on the pizza just to annoy him. Carter reached over and took the bottle back taking another drink. He took a swing and set it back down by her. Normally, by now the person would be eating out of his hand, but not her.
Carter leaned back and pulled out his own phone. Except, his attention remained focused on her. Occasionally trying to sneak glances at her screen. “Oh, come on, don’t most people want to take some rich guys money and give nothing in return?” He’d seen it a million times, but he couldn’t quite figure out what her game was. “I mean it’s practically stealing,” he said, not realizing what he was implying.
A little while later, the buzzer signaled someone was at the door. Carter tipped the delivery guy and carried in their food. He’d nearly dropped the pizza before setting it on the counter. “Plates are in the cabinet,” he mentioned to the cabinet behind her. Carter grinned, opening the pizzas. Only one had pineapple. “Well, well, I guess you don’t dislike methatmuch.”
Where did the vodka come from? An old girlfriend? Or was it kept around as part of a set? Chocolates, wine, a roaring fireplace and something harder for bitches who wanted to party. Sylwia decided she didn’t care. All she could hope was that she didn’t drink Carter under the table too early in the night.
“Nothing physical. Perhaps a chance at morality then? If they broke free from their hollow, ridiculous lives, they wouldn’t be afraid.” There was so much more to morality, and she wasn’t really one to talk since morality had been a constant failing point in her life, but she wasn’t afraid . . . “Nothing’s ever been solved by rich people.” Sylwia snorted, scrolling through an inactive chat room, rereading old messages and looking away whenever a video came up.
Wow. Carter wasn’t kidding when he said he hated pineapple. “Smooth.” Sylwia said, stepping past Carter to get their plates. Didn’t he have any paper plates? Was- was she going insane? Was she looking in the wrong spot? “That’s debatable.” She said, placing the china in front of them because she was tired of looking. “Maybe I’m just waiting for a chance to swipe the wallet from your pocket.”
Imagine living in the small town of green hills, you watch as a mad man tears apart tanks and then realize that it’s the same guy the local barista has been drawing in the lattes with hearts.
