Michael
Charlotte stirs, rubbing her neck and grumbling under her breath. Eyes still closed, she groans and straightens up, then blinking open, she startles before….
…. What’s that expression?
…. It’s not pleasure at seeing us….
“Sleep well?” I ask, not troubling to hide my irritation.
She’s still kneading at her stiff neck. “No, not really. What are you two doing here?”
“What are we doing here?” says James. “What are you doing here? You scared the hell out of us this morning. Where d’you think you’re going?”
“Home. Well, back to college anyway.”
“Like this? Walking?”
“Only to the station.” She drips sarcasm. “They have trains there, you know.”
“For God’s sake,” he snaps. “Get in the car. We can talk back at the house.”
She huffs. “No, we can’t. I’m done with talking.”
“Charlotte,” hisses James. “I’m telling you. Get in the car, and we’ll talk about last night, back at the house, where we have some privacy.”