If there was anything Joan hated most in the world, it was waiting.
Leaning tentatively against the gates of Allen's massive house, she thumbed her phone with one hand and chewed the nails off the other, the groove between her brows prominent and dangerously angry. Though she stayed in her spot by the gates, she would shift on her feet now and then or scratch an arm or a cheek--every microscopic movement screaming with impatience.
It had only been a few minutes, but already it felt like ages.
When the phone buzzed in her hand, it had been a message from none other than Allen Gray. It contained only two words, so obvious and unnecessary that Joan was torn between laughing or screaming or cracking the screen of her phone against the pitted gravel road. Instead, she gathered her self-restraint and replied:
[spoili]
[/spoili]
To be fair, Joan's self-restraint could only do so much.
Lifting her head, she finally saw him standing some distance away, basking in the orange glow of a nearby lamppost. Just seeing his face was enough to give her a sour mood, but if you asked her what it was about him
specifically that bothered her so much, she wouldn't be able to tell you. They were always butting heads over the smallest things, always trying to put each other down.
They were too much alike to get along. Or maybe the reason behind their deep-seated animosity was as simple as him being an X chromosome too short for Joan's liking. Joan was not a raging feminist that despised all men, but in Allen's presence, she often found herself seriously considering it.
In ten brisk strides, she reached him, wagging the phone in his face. "If it isn't Captain Obvious," she remarked, her voice loud and high and thick with condescension. Joan feared nothing. If you told her to try and be discreet, she'd tell you to fuck off. It was as if it did not occur to her that someone might actually overhear them. That they were trying to
sneak out—a feat that required subtlety more than boldness.
If she hadn't waken the whole street by now, her phone should have done the trick. It pinged like crazy in her hand as the messages came flooding in, one after another:
NOVA: B there in a sec... just around the corner.
JORDAN: Heading there right now. I'll walk faster.
ASHER: Can't wait to see me, huh? ;) Don't worry, Jo. I'm on my way. Should be there in a few.
Her eyes zeroed in on Asher's message. Unconsciously, she found herself mentally shuddering at the joke. She liked Asher fine, but she sure as hell did not fancy him. For one thing, Joan was strictly into girls. Of course, this sort of friendly banter was typical of Asher. Joan had found him revolting at first. She still did, to be quite honest.
JOAN: *can't wait 2 hit you. ftfy.
Before long, Nova, Jordan, and Asher convened at the place. Asher piped with a cheerful greeting as he arrived. Joan made a fist and burrowed at his arm, hard enough to be mildly uncomfortable, but not so that it would give him a bruise. She wasn't
that violent. "Good evening," she greeted back with a sarcastic smile and eyes narrow as slits, looking as if she had just tasted something sour. After a beat, she added, "Asshole."
This was how it normally was between them. They publicly humiliated each other—him, with his unsolicited advances and her, with her demeaning behavior—but low-key they got along just fine. Pretty well, in fact, despite how they might treat each other in front of other people.
Her phone buzzed again. Twice, this time. She didn't have to check her phone to know who was texting. She sneaked a cursory glance at the screen and let out a laugh, "Ha!" before turning to the others. "Ok, let's get our things in the car before those two get here." She made an impatient gesture with her hand—
come on, hurry up—as she strode to Allen's van.
Joan was just about to reach for the handle to the back compartment when a huge
something fell upon the hood of the car where she couldn't see it. The alarms went off, the night suddenly consumed by its shrill wailing. It was the loudest fucking noise Joan had ever heard in her entire life. A cat, black as misfortune, leaped from the car and onto the gravel road. It stared at her, pupils thin as slits, poised for flight. Joan stared back and swore a low and deliberate oath.
The lights flickered on in Allen's house, and Joan was a hundred percent sure someone was about to come after them now. Emrys and Saige's timing could not have been any better. They had just emerged from the corner and was now coming towards the rest of the group. "ABOUT FUCKING TIME!" Joan yelled over the high-pitched siren and gestured for Allen to unlock the vehicle. "Quick, quick!" She wasn't sure whom she was yelling at anymore, but it didn't matter. They just needed to get away from here, and fast.
