“I can’t believe the nerve of that guy.” Lamar’s smile was shaky, his words unkind. “I’d always liked Asher before. He always seemed so smooth, like nothing could frazzle him. I never realized he’d be such a sore loser.”
We sat in the ice cream parlor Lamar had suggested. The establishment itself was nice, with cheerful music and bright colored walls. Students and a few older couples filled the tables.
Lamar stabbed at his hot-fudge sundae with his spoon. He hadn’t actually taken a bite yet.
I hadn’t touched my milkshake either, but it wasn’t melting all over the table like Lamar’s sundae.
My fear sat in my belly like a lead weight. My hands shook so hard that I gripped onto my knees, holding on through the trembling.
Lamar didn’t seem to notice any of this, too annoyed by Asher’s pro
