#Chapter 167: Musical Chairs

Hannah The car ride home was tense, the silence broken only by the soft hum of the engine as Noah drove down the sunlit streets. I couldn’t shake the irritation that had been building since Leonard’s parting words. “Don’t forget to pick up Zoe tonight!” Bastard. So he had gotten my skin after all; and to make matters worse, he wasn’t bluffing when he said that. “Hannah,” Noah said, sounding exasperated, “come on. You’ve been staring out the window with your eyes practically bugging out for ten minutes straight.” I shrugged and threw Noah a withering glare that was sharp enough to cut diamonds. “I just still don’t understand why you have to pick up Zoe tonight,” I said, my voice tense. “Can’t she find her own way to the gala?” Noah sighed, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. “I already explained it to you, Hannah. Her car broke down, and her usual driver is out sick.” “So?” I pressed. “She can’t call a cab?”