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What. The. Hell. Is. Going. On?
Gripping my phone tightly in my hand, I march down the stairs and into the living room but he’s not back yet. I flop onto the couch and stare at the ceiling.
Fuck it.
I tap away on my phone and bring it to my ear.
It rings once.
“Hello darling, how are you feeling?” India sings through the phone.
“Besides getting drugged?” I bite. “I’m fine. Now, you have some explaining to do Lucy.”
I hear her move around. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I should have noticed.”
Biting my lips, I nod, though she can’t see me. “It’s fine, thankfully you got me out of there.”
“No, girl. Cuba got you out of there,” she says. “He broke Dylan’s nose.”
My breath hitches, Dylan did that to me? I should have known better.
God, all the signs were in my freaking face. “I’m such an idiot.”
“Did you miss the part where you’re boy-“ she starts as Cuba walks in the door.
“I’ll call you back.” I end the call, watching him as he carries a to-go bag to the coffee table.
His hazel eyes lock in mine. “You okay, babe?”
Sitting up, I tilt my head to the side, studying him. Cuba shifts nervously.
“I had some interesting texts today,” I start. “Want to explain why some people think we are dating?”
Setting the bag down, he claps and smiles nervously. “That’s a great question, Arrow.”
