Chapter 75
[Guess you've never heard of me, I'm popping out like con-fetti!]
"Who's that girllll!" Amara and Kairen chorused in unison, their voices blending perfectly well—like their friendship—vibrant and chaotic, full of chemistry, full of light. The car pulsed with rhythm, the air brushing through their hair as they sped past transformer poles, street vendors, and houses that flashed like moving paintings through the window glass.
They had just left Haynes's office. Kairen's belongings, his travel bags, his folded shirts still warm from morning ironing—sat tucked in Amara's trunk.
The day had been neatly sectioned: breakfast (done), therapy session and anxiety meds (done), now the final step heading to the train terminal.
The car smelled expensive, of Dior cologne and faint sweat. Two Dior pieces each—fitted, loud, beautiful—and a friendship that glowed brighter than either of their perfumes.
[Who's that girl] the radio came again, teasing the chorus back into the air.
