Chapter Nineteen

                                    

                                          
The smell of bacon and pancakes fill the house as Justin makes breakfast. He's cooking while I make sure we have all of our luggage and passports ready to go. 
                          
"Have you ever had chocolate chip pancakes?"
                          
"Duh," I smile, putting down everything by the door and walk over to the counter. He smiles too before he dumbs a few chocolate chips into the batter. 
                          
Breakfast went by smoothly and quickly and  score we knew it, we were getting in the car to head over to the airport. I decided to wear a comfortable hoodie, joggers, and converse and Justin decided to wear a classic white T-shirt, jeans, and vans. I want to be comfortable on the plane ride since it's going to be around five or six hours. Five to six hours sitting next to a hot, bipolar jerk. 
                          
Great.
                          
"You ready?" 
                          
I nod and grab my luggage. I walk out the door, locking it, and he leads me to a mercedes. I can't help but admire the car in the process. I'm not a car junkie or anything but it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure that's a pretty nice looking car, and also expensive as hell. But hey, if you're filthy rich like Justin is, this is probably just like a toy. Yes–I am wealthy too but definitely as rich as him.
                          
Then, I think of something. 
                          
If he's truly in the mafia, shouldn't he have protection? And I don't mean that kind of protection, sickos. I don't know much but I know that's a pretty damn dangerous job. So how did he just go to school? Unless there was someone else there who was protecting him or something. Or how could be in the mafia if he's only eighteen? I mean that seems pretty young to be in such a business. 
                          
"What are you thinking about?"
                          
I snap my head up. Oh shit, I was lost in thought for probably minutes. I must seen like an idiot just standing there. "Well, uh–I have some questions," I mutter.
                          
"Ask away," he stops himself, "in the car when we get on the road. We're running short on time." 
                          
I nod understandingly before I climb into the car and sit on the smooth black leather seats. Only moments later we begin our journey to the Dominican Republic.
                          
"How am I getting out of school?" I ask. I hadn't really thought about that.
                          
"Well, I called the school and I pretended to be your dad. They think you're just going on a family trip."
                          
He went through all that trouble for me? But I still have so many questions.
                          
"Since you're, um... in the mafia, do you have people protecting you? Like wherever you go?" 
                          
"Yeah, even right now."
                          
"Right now?" I ask, frowning. "I don't see anyone..." He smiles softly and points to the back. I turn around and see Caleb, the asshole who called me a bitch. Wait how did he get here? I swear he wasn't there before. "B-but... How?" Is all I can manage to get out.
                          
"I've been here the entire time," he grumbles unhappily. 
                          
"Who lit the fuse on your tampon?" I mutter before turning back to the front.
                          
"WHAT?" He yells leaning closer to me.
                          
"Who lit the fuse on your tampon?" I repeat  louder. 
                          
"You–"
                          
"That's enough!" Justin yells while clenching the steering wheel so hard, his knuckles begin to turn white. "You both need to learn how to get along or this will be a very long trip?" Great, Mr. Grumpy Pants is going with us.
.
.
.
We arrive at the airport shortly after and instead of driving to the international parking, he just continues driving until he's at the back of the airport near the planes.