That friend

“Wesley came and took you out. He wanted to take me home first, I told him to take you home and he left he did return quickly.” She remembered that was it.

“Did he take me home or someone else did?” He asked her.

“I can’t remember,” she itches the side of her neck. She couldn’t remember what happened then or if she had asked him about how he got home.

“What are we gonna do?” She keeps on biting her nails.

“Do you think that’s where the fault was?”

“That was the only time I was drunk, you know because of my work I don’t get drunk that often. You...”

“I know you hardly drink.” She completed his statement. He nodded at her. And looked in front of him.

“That’s why I know something happens that night I was drunk and at home.” He took out his phone sending another text to his phone.

“Has he replied to the first you sent to him?” She crane her neck to see if he replied. The text was sent yesterday.

“He hasn’t.” He told her and made her see the text instead of spying on his text.

She