Hunger by Monique Edenwood EPUB & PDF – eBook Details
- Author: Monique Edenwood
- Language: English
- Formats: PDF / EPUB
- Status: Available for Download
- Series: None
- Price: Free
- File Size: 1 MB
I park the car, shaking my head as I turn the engine off, my hands trembling
after having had to dodge the moron on a bike who abruptly drove into
my lane not fifteen feet ahead of me. I take a moment to breathe before
undoing my seatbelt and climbing out.
I acknowledge Gideon standing across the parking lot next to Kennedy as
I slam the car door shut, throwing an infuriated glance over at the idiot I
nearly ran over who I now spy getting off her bike.
I press the key fob to lock the car and head towards my friends only for
each step I take across the tarmac to leave me bristling with irritation at how
recklessly these cyclists ride their bikes around DC.
As I get close to my friends, I find myself veering off course, pivoting to
the left, deciding to give the cyclist a piece of my mind, if only to scare her
into not doing anything that dumb or dangerous again.
“I could have hit you back there.”
She’s bent over a rusty old bike which looks like it was made twenty
years ago, threading her bike lock through the front wheel and around the
metal bar of the bike station.
She looks up at me, her eyes dissimilated by the mirrored lenses of her
“I said I could have hit you.”
“Oh, you’re the Bentley,” she scoffs as she clicks the lock into place.
“Not into subtlety, hey?”
My body stiffens. I bought the fucking car because it’s one of the safest in
the world and because around here, people drive like… well, with about as
much self-restraint and competence as she cycles with.
“I suppose you think riding like that is funny, do you?”
She stands up straight, squaring her slim frame at me remarkably boldly.
She must stand around five feet three, about a foot shorter than me, but
apparently, what she lacks in height, she makes up for in attitude.
She tugs the frayed brown backpack off her back and drops it onto the
seat of the bicycle. “Look, I put my hand up to say Sorry.”
Her head pivots to the right and I shoot a glance in the direction of her
gaze to see Gideon and Kennedy now standing a few feet behind me.
When I look back, she’s reaching for the top button of her flowy white
cotton shirt which is sticking to her sweaty flesh and that I imagine she’s
wearing to protect her golden skin from unseasonably warm May weather.
“So what?” I bite as she undoes the first button. “You’ll get yourself run
over one day, not to mention put drivers at risk when they have to brake to
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