Chapter 16
“You were going to ask me something,” Malcolm said, cutting off a silence he hadn’t even noticed growing between them.
“I was.” Darien smiled. “But it doesn’t matter now. It’s redundant.”
“It’s—” Malcolm frowned. “All we talked about was fruit?”
Darien shrugged. “Regardless.”
* * * *
Malcolm’s intention had not been to stay until after midnight; just a stop-by, as his mother used to say, and nothing more. Alcohol had a tendency to remove one’s good sense however, and that was inclusive of a person’s music taste Malcolm had decided when he found his head bobbing or his knee bouncing along with the beat.