What a miserable thing! I didn’t want to go back and see Elvis.
Under the scorching sun, I silently walked to a shady corner, took out my phone, and prepared to persuade my dad to ask the driver to bring my backpack to me.
Summoning up courage, just as I was about to make a call, I saw a familiar figure getting out of a luxury car out of the corner of my eye.
I looked up and took a careful look, and I was dumbfounded.
Jeff got off a Mercedes-Benz, which should cost two or three million.
I hadn’t heard that Jeff had such a rich friend. Could it be a hitchhiker?
I was about to go up and ask, but the next second, I saw Jeff running to the other side and opening the car door with a bright face.
A woman came out of the car. Then she held Jeff with a shy look and leaned on him.
Speaking of which, I had been dating Jeff for half a year, and we hadn’t been this intimate. At most, we just hold hands.
Damn it, had I been cheated on?
Countless thoughts were swirling in my mind. For the sake of Jeff, I had let go of my identity as the Carlson family’s young lady and became a laughingstock in the socialite circle.
I didn’t expect Jeff to be this kind of scumbag.