Silence. The garage smelled of motor oil and old carpet. Marcus’s car sat in the middle, hood open, tools scattered.
But she pulled the pin.
“Marcus?”
She took his hand—then yanked him down onto the cushions beside her. The airhorn finally sputtered out. They lay there in the sudden silence, staring at the garage ceiling. LilHumpers - Zaawaadi - An Airhorn Prank Turns ...
Given Marcus’s track record, a “surprise” could mean anything from a new set of tires to a live raccoon in a box. But Zaawaadi, wrapped in an oversized hoodie and fuzzy slippers, shuffled toward the garage door, already bracing herself.
Zaawaadi knew two things for certain: her patience was a thin thread, and her boyfriend, Marcus, was determined to snap it.
“You owe me new slippers,” she muttered. Silence
The airhorn screamed to life, a deafening, angry goose of a noise that bounced off every concrete wall. Zaawaadi shrieked, dropped the pin, and stumbled backward—right into a rolling mechanic’s creeper. Her feet flew up, her slippers launched into orbit, and she landed with a muffled oomph in a pile of old seat cushions.
“You’re dead,” she said, still giggling. “You are so dead.”
“MARCUS!” she yelled over the din.
Zaawaadi turned her head, a slow, dangerous smile spreading across her face. “Oh, you’ll get greatness.”
But Marcus just grinned, walked over, and offered a hand. “Worth it.”
Then she saw it. Taped to the hood of the car was a small, unassuming silver canister. Next to it, a sticky note: “Pull the pin.” But she pulled the pin
Then she laughed. A real, surprised laugh.