Jaycee's P.O.V.
I grunt while dragging my drunken sister Jada out of the bar. My hand is shoved in my سکرٹ, گھیرنا pocket, shuffling around for the keys to my Ford Cantina. Times like this is when I wish that Jada was never my sister. She's an underage drinker and my mom has done nothing to stop it. It's not like she would anyway; she's always with her ' boyfriend ' James.
When I opened the car door, I slid Jada in the backseat, when she starts to mumble under her breath. As I come closer, her breath hits me in the face 5 سیکنڈ before her face was close to mine.
My nose crinkles up in disgust before...
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