30 | 𝐷𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝐷𝑜 𝐷𝑟𝑢𝑔𝑠, 𝐾𝑖𝑑𝑠

"Put your back into it and go harder!" I demanded, a sweaty hairline forming below my carmel locks.

He moaned out, "if only the context is what it sounds like."

"Stop talking and go harder!" I scolded in a forceful tone. "I'm doing all the work here."

"We're riding a two person bike, Azariah!" he screamed at me from behind. "There is only so much I can do--Watch where you're going!" he frightened.

I swerved the bike away from a Honda Civic as we weaved through traffic on an incline. Blurs of San Francisco color going by me in one quick motion. My breath hastened while I felt my body gravitate out of the seat, my hands clutching onto the handles turning red and sweaty.

Victor groaned from behind me, his laboring breathing in my ear. "I told you, I should've been the one up font--but, no--" he exaggerated.

I groaned, my calves burning in agony as I rolled the pedals harder. Bright crimson reds and the distant navy blue waters in my sight. We were flying down the hill as the bike's handlebars yearned to spin out of control. My elbows were pointed to the sky as I fought with them to keep straight, sustaining from hitting any cars. "I'm trying here! And for your information--" I screamed alongside the traffic, "I am an independent womaaaaan!!!"

We hit the pavement next to the highway just as an old man was starting to cross the intersection when he stopped in his tracks, facing death, or Victor and I. The two-person-bike drove full speed at him. I swiftly threw the handlebars in the opposing direction, dodging the elder man and peddled harder forward, the after shock buzzing through me as my hair swatted against my eyes vigorously.

"I almost killed someone," I said, yelling again more violently, "I almost killed someone!" I swiftly glanced behind me to see Victor hunched over the handlebars, his skin tainted green.

"Make that two people," he uttered sickly, his eyes flashed up to my sympathetic ones before he leapt up in realization. "Watch where you're going!" He threw his hand off the handlebars in my general direction as I snapped forward and saw we were speeding full force towards a black and white spotted skunk, standing in the middle of where the bike was heading.

Victor shouted behind me, "skunk!"

Just in unison with its tail raising as the bike flew through the fog machine of spray. The smell engulfed us as the cloud enclasped my mouth and clothes. I released an ear piercing cry, my tongue scraping against my mouth as the rotten, aged egg smell pulsasted within and outside of me. "I can't see!" I cried out.

Victor shook my shoulders. "Car!"

I blinked open my eyes, seeing a bigger blur of everything in a cloudy haze as I veered the bike out of the way. "What is a skunk even doing in the middle of the road!?" I whined.

"It's California!" He shouted towards me, "they have everything!" He let out one long high-pitched scream as I drove off the highway, smacking the wheel against the curb of the sidewalk and flying passed it. The pebbled sidewalk made the wheels vibrate as we trembled and bounced atop the seat mount. The palms of my hands were getting tickled by the rubber of the handles as we repetitively rebounded against the rock-imbedded sidewalk.

"Person!" Victor deadpanned, pointing to a person bounding around the corner as we propelled towards them. Within seconds, behind the person came a hoard of people barreling around the corner wearing the same outfits and a piece of paper attached to their chests.

"Not person!" I shouted. "Joggers!" My eyes widened as we steered at them like they were bowling pins.

"They're people too, Azriah Kellmen!" he reprimanded as they unfolded, spreading a straight line that allowed us to project through.

"Sorry! Sorry!" I wobbled the handles as they screamed and distanced from the bike in a pathetic attempt to get out of our way. "Love the leggings!" I added, launching the bike down towards a barbeque and grill, the alignment of bricks forming a wall in a direct view.

"Wall! Rhy! Wall!" he continuously declared as I pitched the bike directly to smack against the cold and sturdy surface, sending us flying backwards and off the mount, grounding our bodies onto concrete. We scrambled up off our feet, looking at the shielded appearance of the bike that had collided with the brick wall.

My legs were burning and my eyes stung, and of course it didn't help that my body smelled strong like sulfur. Victor pointed to the bike logo. "That was rented, Rhy."

"We can still return it," I told him. The tire suddenly popped off, startling us. I assured him, "Still returnable." The second tire's bolts snapped off one-by-one till it hummed and shriveled to rubber. I tightened my lips and said, "that's a little troublesome." Interrupted by the handlebars as they broke off the bike, snapping metal sounding in my ears as the rubber grips plopped to the concrete and the cushioned mounts smacked off the bike and it dismembered itself swiftly in front of our eyes.

I swallowed, feeling Victor's threatening gaze on me. "Now, I don't promote crime or any illegal participation, but can we run?" I unhurriedly asked in shock.

He rolled his eyes, grabbing at my wrist and threw us down a block, distancing ourselves from the chaotic streets of the city crowd as we found a quieter setting of grassy fields, parking lot clutter and a beach up ahead. The wind stirred and grew colder as we walked up to the furious shore.

"Can I have a hug, Vicky?" I asked softly, looking up to his eyes as we walked down the shore. "I'm pretty sure I just got PTSD."

"No, Rhy. No offense, but you smell."

"You smell too," I retorted childishly.

"Not as bad, I mean, you're lucky I'm standing next to you right now. Who knew skunk could be this putrid?" he reflected, staring at me and studying the wrinkles on my nose. "Aw, you can get pissy all you want--I am not hugging you."

"Fine," I huffed in irritation. Throwing my hands up to the calm waters at the shore of San Francisco. "What now?"

"Well, we can cross you nearly killing us off our itinerary," he scowled down at me, slipping out a crumpled piece of paper to look at what we were supposed to be doing. He unfolded the corners of the pages, flattening out the wrinkles mindlessly before prodding his finger to the paper then looking up for a sign.

"If we're here," he said, looking at nothing but the vacant parking lot and small dunes of sand. "I don't know where we are."

"Great!" I yelled sarcastically. "Cross Vicky getting us lost off our itinerary too. We only got in this state like an hour ago."

"Make that at least four," he growled, seating himself down on a patch of grass and patting the spot next to him. "God, you smell horrible," he yacked, pinching his nose shut while I collapsed down next to him, sitting criss cross and looking out to the repetitive waves as they rocked sheepishly back and forth. "We were biking for a long ass time."

"Why were we doing that again?"

He popped up his knee to point to the sky. "We were trying to get to the hotel?" he reminded in a bored sounding tone.

"Why didn't we get a taxi?"

"Great idea, Sherlock," he exaggerated with sarcasm. "Lemme just grab my phone charger quick from Nevada and I'll call them right up and say we need a taxi." He scoffed. "Or better yet, we'll use the fucking time machine I packed."

I shuffled comfortably on the grass, the smell twinging my noise and making me want to vomit. "You don't have to get smart with me," I mumbled under my breath.

He sighed and outstretched his arm. "I'm sorry, but these types of things don't usually happen when I'm alone. I seriously think you're my bad luck charm." He paused, waving his arm subtly. "Now you can hug me."

"You said I smelled," I refuted quietly.

"I will change my mind. In three--two--" He started listening off, but I muttered a quick 'okay' and darted to cuddle in his lap, his arm falling on top of me. He smelled faintly like fermented egg but I was comfortable in his lap as my head eased into his build. I stared out to the soft spurring white foam decorating around the ocean lips. "God, you really smell."

"You're kinda killing the mood," I grumbled into the fabric of his black t-shirt.

He snorted a laugh. "We have a mood?" He rested his wrist on his opposite knee, the paper fluttering in his fingers. "The guy said we should get our luggage by tomorrow afternoon," he told me, staring at the instructions and the minor notes he made in scribbles of ink.

I felt my eyes blink closed, but I pried them open to stay awake. The brisk winds slid over my cheeks, turning them rosy as I inhaled sharply to taste the saltiness in the air rather than the sulfur of skunk. His arm was relaxed and contorted to droop over my waist delicately.

"You can go to sleep," he mused, making me look up to see his eyes narrowed on the piece of paper in his grasp. He was trying to decipher the words, wanting to make them change. I knew he was thinking about seeing his aunt, the address was written at the top of the note, but I shifted my head back to the most comfortable position on his thigh.

"Are you sure?" I pressed, "But you need the sleep the most--"

"Azariah," he said monotonously, "we are in an abandoned parking lot, I would never fall asleep with you unsupervised."

"I'm not a kid," I refuted, but I knew what he meant, I knew exactly what he was saying and overwhelmingly, I felt safe, a flood of warmth entered my body as I propped up on my palms looking at him directly.

"I know that you're not a kid. Go to sleep, though. I'll wake you when I need you." He raised his hand and his eyes towards me, guiding me with his fragile clutch back to laying my head in his lap. "Besides," he jested off topic. "I need to focus without you making comments every two seconds."

We shared a quiet laugh, knowing he was joking, but my body melted into his build and I felt ridiculously comfortable somehow. And when I thought I was about to doze, he began to trickle his fingertips from my waist up to the top of my head then back down, sending ringlets of ticklish comforts my way.

Somehow, we were lost in San Francisco, no luggage, no WIFI, no directions, yet I fell asleep like I was at home.

♡♡♡

After sleeping on the floor of the hotel room with a towel, we got our luggage eventually and next thing I knew, I was seated in a bathtub with Vicky, very much naked.

"You know," Victor began. "When I envisioned us bathing together, I imagined it more romantic than us being chips and salsa," he teased, scooping a handful of tomato in his palm and raising it to eye level before it plopped to the surface. The strong smell of tomato juice clouded the bathroom as the fan grumbled in the distance.

I squirmed within the flood of juice in the bathtub and accidentally brushed my foot against his leg, jumping back worrisomely and slapping an arm against my exposed chest as it peeked out of the surface.

He laughed at me. "Rhy, you have to accept this now.... I will get turned on no matter what you do, a little nudity is guaranteed to be happening and it's guaranteed that I will get turned on. You got that?"

I muttered, "yeah... about that." My voice trailed as I sheepishly looked up with tomato guts in my hair. "I could help."

"You see... that sounds very seductive, but not in a bath tub of tomato juice." He grabbed an old loofah we got cheap at the spa in the hotel and he scrubbed his arms with the tomato substance. "Rhy, when did your virgin ass become such a sex addict?"

"I am not!" I snapped.

"I'm starting to rub off on ya," he noted, "and I couldn't be happier. I am supposed to be teaching you things, so I guess it's for the better," he assured mostly to himself.

"Not to mention, I need to learn," I added. "And you are practically a prodigy."

"A prodigy?" he repeated in astonishment. "A sexual prodigy... I like the sound of that." He tilted his chin up to look up at the ceiling as the fluorescent lights of the bathroom batted down on us. "Rhy. I stick by my word, I will never kiss you."

He lifted himself out of the tub and I quickly ducked my head under the tomato juice, sinking my head below and puffing my cheeks while squeezing my eyes. The cold liquid dribbled in my ears and wanted in my eye sockets, but suddenly I broke free from the juice and my saturated hair veiled my face.

"Rhy?" he asked, and I opened my mouth, exhaling dramatically. My eyes fluttered open and he was now clad in a towel dropping by his waist, a red tint to his skin as he ran the faucet and splashed cold water down his arms.

"I was just... making sure my hair didn't smell," I breathed rapidly, my chest heaving up and down. "Oh, would you look at that, you got out of the tub," I mentioned, waving a hand towards him to act casual.

I don't think he noticed

He gelled his hair, scraping the black strands upwards before combing and ruffling it to lay messily. His taunt muscles drove down, disappearing beneath the towel. He was naturally muscular, and it would be a million times hotter to check him out if I wasn't sitting in a tub of tomato juice.

His eyes flicked to mine, staring at me in the reflection of the bathroom mirror above the sink with a cocky grin. I snapped my head down, but he mused, "you can look all you want, just don't touch."

"You know," I started lowly, my fingers stirring intricate circles in the liquid I bathed in. "I'm not that predictable."

"Sure you aren't," he grumbled. He was going to leave the bathroom when he stopped in his tracks, popping a finger out of his fist. "You know how my birthday is tomorrow?"

I nodded dumbly. "Yes, Vicky."

"Well, I have this policy. Don't stop, won't stop. We're going to a club tonight so make sure you wear something nightclub appropriate, I mean, go ahead and impress me in your pajamas for all I care, but if you get a free pass to look at all this--" He drew a hand over his torso in a demonstrating manner. "I would like a consolation prize."

"Consolation?" I repeated, the idea of going to a club not having yet been adjusted to.

"Yes, being second behind that asshole you call your future baby daddy?" he reminded me with a roll of his eye, a display of frustration wrapped in his features. He was staring at me now, waiting for me to say something, but I didn't let him know that criticising Liv made me angry. I hid it with a pointed expression as my mind narrowed on the bigger picture...

"A club? Vicky, are you outta your mind?" I raged, throwing my hands over the edge of the tube. To be honest, I had forgotten I was naked and in a tub of tomato juice. "We're not old enough--"

"And you think I didn't get you a fake ID also. Come on, you know me better than that." He laughed to himself, propping a hand on the porcelain sink. "Listen, we're going and we're going to have fun," he deadpanned.

"It doesn't seem like I have very much of a choice," I grumbled sheepishly, but my eyes fleeted up through my lashes to see he was approaching me, he crouched down, leveling with my face as he balanced himself, his muscles flexing in the position he hovered in.

"You always have a choice when you're with me, but I'd rather you be there." He drew his thumb over the corner of my mouth and swept up to my cheek, gathering a bit of the tomato on my face. He popped his thumb in his mouth and stood up, dropping his hand to his side.

"I thought you hated tomatoes?" I wondered aloud.

Simultaneously with my voice, he tore off a few squares of toilet paper and mumbled mid-gag, "I do--" he spat out the tomato into the crumple of toilet paper before tossing it in the bin and smiling over his shoulder, seeing me restrain my laughter with a genuine smile.

My heart sped when he looked at me before closing the bathroom door and leaving me to think over things, like his expression, and his eyes, and his muscles---and future me breaking the law in another state with Victor Vislocky. But more importantly, me being okay with it.

♡♡♡

I'd never been to a club before, the only club I was ever in was Vulpine Union, but that doesn't count, it definitely does not count.

The air was sharp against my cheeks and exposed arms, causing a mountain range of goosebumps to transpire on my arms and legs. The black sky was illuminated by the repetitive street lamps decorated along the sidewalk. I rubbed my forearms to keep warm, gaining some friction as Victor fixed his leather jacket collar and threw his arm over my shoulders and around my neck. He towered over me, glaring subtly at some middle aged man ahead of us on the gathering line outside of the bar.

The music lingered through the door as the bouncer ran everyone's license. I trembled beneath Victor's grasp while he tugged me closer into his chest discreetly. I wormed closer, only because I was cold.

When the bouncer gave us a stern look at our turn, he let us in reluctantly. He knew something was wrong, but he didn't want to press it any further. Suddenly I was yanked through the ominous shadowy hallway, pitch black, till we saw spiraling hot pink, yellow, blue, and red lights scanning the room and silhouettes of heads. There were voices and blaring music, pulsing through me and energizing my body.

Victor's hand slid down to mine, intertwining our fingers as he pulled me to an emptier spot along the black velvet carpet. The walls were blood red and painted in neon greens and yellows. I felt airy and my breath was easily manipulated. "What are you doing?" I shouted, but I could barely hear myself over the possessing music as it encouraged my heart to catch up, even my fingertips were itching from the amount of electricity pulsing through me at that moment.

He slid out a thin rolled up piece of paper, shuffling past people to a vacant table as he swept out a napkin and flattened it against the bare mahogany. He took out a piece of plastic and gently sprinkled the fragments of dust onto the napkin.

"What are you doing?" I widened my eyes, my heart racing as I stared at it. These were the type of pictures that they take and put on whiteboards of health classrooms with big bold red letters that say 'Don't do Drugs, Kids.'

Victor hunched his body over the table, his leather jacket tightening as his shoulders imaginably flexed, he brought the paper to his nose and inhaled sharply, backing away and shaking his head in reaction, his eyes landing on me. He offered, "wanna feel a million somethings?"

"Will it hurt?" I asked, looking back to the paper. I remembered everything all my health teacher's said, the burning sensation drilling up my brain, all the mishaps, all the wrongs--all the possible failures. I could see my mom screaming at me now, but he held my hand in his clutch.

"You don't have to, but I've used it before and I'm telling you, you're safe with me. I mean that, Azariah Kellmen."

"You've been saying my full name a lot," I jested lightheartedly, rolling my eyes and ducking my head towards the paper roll purposefully. He tilted it up, holding my hand so I could position it right. He hovered right by my ear, his hot breath fanning over my neck and sending war flashbacks of him against me on his kitchen counter--we did nothing, I had to remind myself, it was practice.

His hand ran up my spine concealed by the tight fabric of my rose gold bodycon dress with pink glitter splattered up from the knee to the plunging v. My chest pooled out of the corset-styled top while I slapped my forearm to cover myself properly. To my surprise, Victor's hand on mine went to my other arm and drew it away from me slowly.

"Let's not cover up," he murmured hoarsely, his breathing slowing. "I mean, when I'm alone and my thoughts travel... I'd like to have memories and not just interpretations, y'know?" he teased.

My eyes fleeted up at him. "What now?" I tilted my body up a little towards him with puzzlement. He was admitting to something I didn't want him to admit too, guaranteed, when he admitted to... being alone... I guess I never really thought about it, I blocked it out, but if he is admitting to what I think he's admitting to, I'm fucked.

He chuckled hotly, his eyes flashing towards the colors as it flared across his face. "Just take a hit before someone catches us."

My heart pierced with something stronger as I bent down and breathed in sharply through my nose, the cloud of dust entered my nostrils with a stinging pulse, settling near my temple as I backed away, crazily getting smacked with the sensation of something. My brain went light and fuzzy like a static TV and my eyes blurred, watering with the built up pressure.

"Did the drugs kill me already?" I groaned, rubbing my head.

Victor cleaned it all, stuffing it in the back of his ripped jean pocket. "We're about to have a whole lot of fun, Princess," he whispered warmly against my mouth. His arms wrapping around the outline of my waist while he lured me into the crowd and the effects of the drug helplessly hypnotized me to comply.

He grabbed my hand and spun me beneath him, dragging me in his chest as I collided with his wall of a build, the cold, sturdy leather material rubbing against my body as we were guided by the music's energetic tempo. The crowd pumped their fists and rocked against each other like the tidal wave from the day before.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him down towards my lips. We'd been dancing like this for a while as the crowd warped around, becoming a hazy disfigurement of people as I focused only on his heavy and lust tormented brown eyes. His grip on me became tighter and my breath hitched in response to the position we found ourselves in.

A tiny voice in my head was telling me this was very, very wrong, that I had priorities, but what were my priorities again? And why couldn't I think of the wrong reasons?

His lips were glossed and doused in the alcohol we were nursing prior. We were at the bar, then back at the dance floor as the glowing lights flashed across our faces quickly and back again, the rhythm causing us to become adjacent and aligned with one another. My hands squeezed a harder touch as I drew his head closer, his alcohol tainted breath transfusing into mine. His lips were parted, the access just in my reach.

I could taste it on my tongue and the warmth oversaturated my body till my cheeks were as dark as the blood maroon walls enclosing us. I wanted his rigid hands against my back to travel, for them to explore greedily, but when my eyes were removed from his lips, I looked at his irises to know that they were drilling onto my red stained lips from the gloss I applied while in the bathroom minutes before.

I couldn't run to the bathroom again, or get fresh air. The same air that I so desperately craved as the humidity drenched me, pooling in my clothes and sticking to my dampening skin as it gathered under my hairline and below my mascara coated lashes.

Victor was too close, yet I couldn't draw away, I didn't know why I couldn't separate, but I needed him closer--yet that was impossible.

Victor's lips were on mine before I could register it, he slowly drew his tongue into my mouth delicately, a pleasurable shudder rolled up my spine as I clutched harder around his neck, coiling him closer. My head went light, the floating sensation ascended me away from the nightclub we were standing in to somewhere far, far away. He pressed his body up against me protectively. A shameful noise I didn't know I could make vibrating my mouth to his as he growled into me. His hands plunged me into his chest harder. I wanted to deepen it if possible, feel it like the drug, to get more, to taste more of this--whatever it was--when he propelled away from me.

Shock on his face as he studied my expression. He bit his lip, looked towards the red neon exit doors sign and stared back at me more embarrassingly. "Let's get fresh air," he murmured, grabbing at my wrist loosely and leading me out to the doors.

When we hit the blockade of cool, refreshing air, it drove straight into my lungs and sent a nice shiver up my body, adjusting to the rapid temperature change. My feverish body cooled as we stood amidst the brick exterior, a few smokers, and the highway, lit by car headlights and street lamps. The moon's cast fell over us shamefully as we stood as if we were strangers.

Something lodged in my chest, something that couldn't move. "Vicky, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have--"

"Are you kidding?" he laughed it off, making my heart sink. "You're like the cocaine in my pocket, Rhy. I just..." He held in his breath, pursing his lips before saying, "I didn't want to get addicted, but now..." He shook his head, murmuring, "now I know who's standing in front of me."

I rocked on my toes. "Who's that?"

He slipped off his leather jacket and draped it over my shoulders, tucking the sides to cover my rose gold dress. His hands were still gripped at the arms of the leather jacket when he said, "some fucking hot, adorable girl with a smart mouth... who knows how to use it for more ways than more."

"So, you're not mad?" My eyes burned up to his, begging to hear an answer, only hoping for the best possible outcome.

"I could never be mad at you, Princess, now can I?"

"You very much could," I told him.

He tilted his head, brushed a few strands of hair out of my face and eased it behind my ears. "Rhy, I think me bringing you to San Francisco to celebrate my birthday and be in search of my brother qualifies as being special, don't you think?"

"I'm special?" I repeated with a smile.

"Oh--" He rolled his eyes. "You're special, all right."

x