"Yeah, he didn't even call or text to tell us about the fo—"
"That's not what I mean," Quintin interrupted. I looked at him this time with confusion all over my face. I frowned to tell him I didn't understand what he was trying to say, but he only added a few words that added to my confusion.
"It's your best friend."
"Yeah, that's what I also conclude. It could be him," I told him, but Quintin looked at me strangely after.
"Am I wrong? What do you even mean? Are we still talking about the food?" I continuously asked because I was getting puzzled by what he was trying to say.
Quintin strengthened his back while standing. He put both his hands in the pockets of the black slacks he was wearing that day like he had something inside his pocket that he would surprisingly throw on me.
I saw
