She was only sixteen at that time, carefree and naive.
She wouldn't be bothered by a petty man like that.
"My foot hurts." She complained bitterly, tapping on the window.
Sylvan Cheney slowly rolled down the rear window, turned his head, his handsome brows furrowed together, his deep gaze fell on her face.
As their eyes met, Jasmine Yale pursed her lips.
"My foot hurts." She hinted at him.
"And what," Sylvan Cheney replied indifferently.
His gaze was icy, his voice hoarse and bland, revealing no emotion at all.
"I, I..." Jasmine Yale stuttered, unable to let go of her pride.
They had had an argument just moments ago, and now she was the one making the peace. But he was still putting on airs.
How dull.
Seeing she didn't respond, Sylvan Cheney glanced at her.
Then, he reached out and began to close the car window.
"Hey!!" Jasmine Yale exclaimed in desperation.
Just as the window was about to completely close, she banged on it twice.