𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑 ⟡﹒

chapter fourteen

𝐘/𝐍

‧₊˚

ALL IT TOOK was one step inside the paper white Villa in front of you for the smell of weed, sex and alcohol to infiltrate what was left of your already torn senses. Sounds of trap music grow louder and louder as you creep inside the porcelain building animatedly. Almost immediately, the boy beside you slithers an arm around your waist, inching your body nearer to his to make the statement that you both intended on spreading.

Your honed eyes naturally find their way to where his arm met the silk of your off-the-shoulder body-con dress and you nearly gag from his firm hold. Despite everyone's efforts, you really did not want to do this.

Hitch notices and laughs, shaking her head in the process. She taps a finger on her chin and moves her mouth in what you only can assume is in the motion of speaking. "So who's it—"

You cut her off before she could inaudibly finish, raising your voice to an increasingly high volume, "I can't hear you over the music!"

To this, her smile only grows even wider, "Who's our victim for today?!"

And that, was the part you were truly detesting.

You quickly steal a glance at Connie who was currently scanning the plethora of sweaty, drunken and dancing bodies before you answer, "Let's chill for a bit. It has to look real, no?" You suggest loudly over the song PMW by Asap Rocky.

Hitch hums, nodding her head and  making haste to the bar where only a few were sitting at. You and Connie follow carefully behind.

As the three of you approach the empty bar, a stout, roundly—shaped man waves at your group.

"And what can I get for y'all?" The stubby man smiles, a sharp accent audible in his tone as he speaks. But what could you really expect? After all, you were in Marley now.

Your best friend plummets down on a black stool on your left, purse in her lap as she politely asks for a coke. This plan required all three of you to be sober.

His gold hair bobbles as the old man tilts his head in you and Connie's direction, "Anything for you two?"

Connie's silver eyes slyly shift towards you before he answers, "Nah, we're good."

The bartender only shrugs, carrying his stout figure towards the back bar and swiftly pours up Hitch's drink. Once he's done, he wipes his two hands against the stomach of his apron and gently carries the requested coke over to your best friend.

"Thank you . . ." She averts her gaze onto his name tag, ". . Mr braun!"

The old man grins, waving his hands in the air as he mumbles something along the lines of no worries it's nothing before tending to some other costumers.

Hitch slurps, taking in a sip of her drink as she redirects her focus onto you. "Spotted anyone that piques your interest?" She asks.