chapter 23

Joan pov

“Thank you so much, Joan; you make me happy.” He threw his ball, and guess what? All the pins fell down—a perfect shot. Unlike mine, he tosses a couple of balls, and all of them were wins. I tried mine, which came out as a disaster; it wasn’t meant for me, which I was so sure of.

He talked more than I did about vacations and silly events that had happened in his lifetime. For a rich kid, he has seen some shitty things; most of them were dares and some were just child’s play, but all in one, I could sit and cling on to my sour emotions or choose my sorrows.

The latter sounded pleasant, so I placed the thought of home at the back of my thoughts, and the little girl in me sprang back to life, from a bowling night to karaoke to dancing to the music in your head and a slot of soda—so much soda.

The night was so blissful, I didn’t want it to end, but I forgot that I had to go back home—a home I didn’t want to be in—but it was too late, and he had to drive me back home.

Just the fac