ire and Loreen weed everyone with warm smiles. Meanwhile, Clinton clenched his teeth in frustration as he watched ire, who seemed to grow even more radiant and beautiful over the years.
Back in college, he had earnestly tried to win her affection, but she had brushed him offpletely.
To his dismay, she ended up marrying azy bum who lived off her hard work.
Why on earth did that happen?!
It felt as if fate had turned a blind eye!<h3 style="background-color:DodgerBlue">
With a scowl, he narrowed his eyes and sneered, “Hey Charlie, it looks like you’re living the good life after marrying ire! Driving a BMW now, huh? Did ire buy it for you? You’re the perfect example of a trophy husband!”
ire was visibly irritated by his jibe, while Loreen quickly interjected, “Clinton, you’ve got it all wrong. It’s not ire who bought the car; Charlie got it himself!”
“Wow!” Clinton retorted, smirking. “Impressive! You can actually afford a BMW 5 Series now!”
Then, with a challenging tone, he added, “Since the streets are so quiet and straight, how about we race to see who’s got the faster ride?”
Charlie frowned, feeling annoyed at Clinton’s obvious provocation.
‘Why can’t you just leave me alone? I want nothing to do with you,’ Charlie thought to himself. ‘Besides, my car is way faster than yours! This is a BMW 760, the top model! If I ept your challenge, I’ll just look like a bully.’<fn409b> Newest update provided by find[?]ovel</fn409b>
Clinton misinterpreted Charlie’s silence as fear and smirked. “Come on, Charlie, still a coward like in college? It won’t use much gas! I’ll even cover your fuel costster.”
Loreen was fed up and eximed, “Clinton, give it a rest! Your car is a 540, and Charlie’s is a 520. Even I can see there’s a massive difference in engine power! Do you really think your street race idea is fair?”
Clinton shrugged nonchntly. “Well, it really depends on the driver’s skills! A good car doesn’t guarantee speed; it’s all about the driver’s abilities and bravery. I wonder if Charlie has the guts to take on the challenge. But I wouldn’t be surprised if he backs out; he’s always been the underdog.”
His friends quickly chimed in, “Yeah, Clinton’s right! Just admit it if you’re scared; there’s no shame in that.”
Charlie, however, remained unfazed. With a smile, he replied, “I’m up for a race, but what’s the fun in just talking about the bet? Let’s think of a more interesting punishment for the loser.”
“Alright!” Clinton felt a wave of relief wash over him, worried that Charlie might not take the bait. When Charlie suggested a punishment, he excitedly jumped in, thinking Charlie was digging his own grave. “Let’s bet that the loser has to kneel and apologize to the winner. What do you say?”
Charlie shook his head. “Nope, that’s too childish. We’re adults, so let’se up with something more mature.”
Just then, Dous emerged from the restaurant, dressed sharply in a suit and carrying arge stack of fireworks. Spotting Charlie, he walked over with enthusiasm. “Hey Charlie! Great to see you!”
Charlie greeted him with a warm smile, saying, “Dous, congrattions on the opening of your new restaurant!”
“Thanks, buddy!” Dous replied cheerfully.
Clinton, not ready to drop the subject, interrupted coldly, “Charlie, don’t change the topic. What are you really thinking?”
Curious, Dous asked, “What’s happening here? What are you guys up to?”
Charlie nced at the fireworks Dous was holding and inquired, “Doug, how long are those firecrackers?”
“Three meters!” Dous chuckled. “They weren’t cheap; I spent over six hundred dors on them!”
Charlie nodded thoughtfully before turning to Clinton and suggesting, “I’ve got an idea. Let’s go ahead with the race, and whoever loses will have to put the fireworks in their car and light them up. What do you think?”