runaway

SEVENTEEN | COME WITH ME

SEVENTEEN | COME WITH ME

It's been two months since Jett had ice cream with Lily. It's been two weeks since the refill of the Ziploc. It's been two days since Jett last saw Emmett. It's been too long since she last felt like this. 

Her middle finger taps restlessly, relentlessly against her thigh. She catches sight of herself in the full length mirror propped against the wall. Shadows decorate the underneath of her eyes from the recent sleepless nights, and yet, all she feels is awake and alive and inexplicably bored. Her mind races with possibilities, possibilities of entertainment for the evening.

Without another thought, Jett removes herself from the bed and walks over to the rack holding her clothes. She kicks the open suitcase closed and to the side, finding no need for it at the moment. Her hands flip through her clothes, sliding each hanger to the left until she finds the proper outfit she so desires. Short enough to make her mother cringe and low cut enough to made her father shutter, she slips on the dress reserved for only special occasions. Remembering the flyer seen when passing the venue the other day, she sends a quick text message and slides on her heels, rarely worn, before exiting the apartment. The door closes behind her with a slam, though she can't find it in her to care.

She catches eyes with so many as she passes, their judgmental glares feeding and fueling her to stand taller, brighter. Not by much, but enough to take notice. It thrills her, being noticed, more so than usual. Still, she glances over her shoulder as she approaches the venue, walking passed the entrance and towards the side where the tour bus stays parked and waiting, waiting for someone like her. She herself waits for the opportune moment, waits for someone to step from the bus. Letting the smirk overcome her lips as she twirls a strand of hair between her fingers, Jett approaches.

"Hi," the young woman says, appearing seemingly out of nowhere.

The man turns to her at the sound. He noticeably takes her in, swallowing her with his eyes before glancing around to make sure no one is watching.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing back here?" he asks.

"You think I'm pretty?" the young woman says, still twirling that strand between her fingers.

"Gorgeous, actually," he says with a smile she recognizes from so many others. She pretends to hide the blush she coerces to appear.

"Well, in that case," she says. "Think you could get a gorgeous girl backstage?"

The man hesitates. "I don't know..."

"Oh, come on," she says, walking closer, close enough to rest her hand on his arm. "You know you want to."

"What do I get out of it?"

She leans closer until her lips practically touch his ear. "Guess you'll have to let me in to find out."

The blush she provokes from him is much darker and genuine than the one she pretends he coerced from her. It widens her devilish smile he mispercieves as something much more innocent. He sees what he wants to see, and she would have it no other way.

"Come on, darling," she says, her voice sickenly sweet. "You know you want to."

The man sighs. "Alright. You just can't tell a soul."

She lays her hand on her chest. "I would never."

Her smile grows even still as he leads her towards the back entrance, opening the door for her to step in. She stops right after crossing the threshold and turns to face him.

"Thanks," she says. She leans up to press a kiss on his cheek then turns to walk away, her heels clicking on the ground as she never looks back.

"Hey!" he calls after her, but she is already gone.