The Volleyball Captain Next Door
Hart suddenly asks out of nowhere.
I turn, "...what?"
"I've been thinking about it."
"..."
"..."
"...Hart." I pinch the space between my brows.
"What?"
"Don't. Just, don’t. Please."
Half a cocktail and you’re like this? I swallow a laugh.
A while later, we arrive at Oakswood.
"This is a big house. You’re indeed rich.” She makes an obvious comment as we make our way inside.
Oakswood sits on the quieter edge of Westside, tucked behind rows of maple trees and overlooking the lake. It isn't flashy from the outside despite its size. Just stone walls, warm lights, and wide glass windows.