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AGE EIGHTEEN
My head buzzes with a strange type of energy. As if I’m plummeting to earth and shooting for the sky at the same time.
It’s a feeling I’ve never experienced before and it’s forcing me to move, to jump out of my skin and just…go.
Somewhere.
Anywhere.
Like a shooting star—aimless, heartless, and absolutely destructive.
I parted ways with Astrid and told her I’m going to fuck one of the girls, which is usually her cue to give me the stink eye, call me a pig, then let me have my fun.
Then she’ll call someone to drive us home, usually my brother. She’s loyal and responsible like that. The “we can’t drive while we’re drunk” Astrid. The “please tell me you wear condoms, because I don’t want to be an aunt this young” Astrid.
In short, the best wingman I’ve ever had. Except for the fact that she doesn’t like partying and I have to drag her kicking and screaming as if she’s heading to her hanging.
Actually, she doesn’t like people in general and prefers to remain hidden like a stone that’s camouflaging a diamond.
Unlike her flashy, seductive stepsister.
That’s where I’m going right now—after Nicole.
Yes, I lied about fucking the other girl, because the moment I saw Nicole sneaking about, I knew she was up to no good.
Not that she was ever up to anything good.
If trouble were a club, Nicole would be their face, soul, and the inspiration for their name.
I shouldn’t give a fuck what Nicole is up to. In fact, I made it my mission not to focus on her, not to get pulled into her manipulative web, where she lures her victims, then sucks their souls like the blood countess sucked young girls’ blood to remain beautiful and ageless.
That shit is real. Look it up.
If Nicole lived in those times, she would’ve been her wingman and best advisor. Hell, she wouldn’t even have been caught for it. Since, well, that countess had the brain energy of an aimless bird.
Back to the reason why I’m following Nicole with the persistence of a crooked detective.
She’s been different today. Talkative, though still venomous. Dressed in a fuck-me dress and heels as if she was out to get some.
And why the fuck am I getting so bloody hot that I want to set my own clothes on fire?
So when I saw her gulping a drink, ignoring her holy circles of glorified bitches and slipping through the crowd, I followed her.
Just like I followed her that day ten years ago when she nearly died in my arms.
I shouldn’t have.
Since that day, she’s been a thorn in my fucking side.
Prior to that incident, she always had a smile on her pretty little face, and acted nice in an annoying kind of way. So seeing her sneaking about was an occurrence I’ve never witnessed.
It’s why I left the game and tailed her. Then I watched her stealing peaches, hiding them behind her white lace dress, and tiptoeing so no one would see her.
Now feels like a repeat of that time.
As if she’s about to steal a peach, go eat it in an obscure place, and…die.
That’s what the doctor said that time. Her allergic reaction was only oral when she was younger, but after she turned eight, it became respiratory, too. He said that the next time she eats a peach, she’ll stop breathing.
