| thirteen pt. two |

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**  a/n: I don't condone any of the following action in this chapter.

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Dalton's POV

St. Petersburg, Florida

The shocked face that Dustin wore was the image etched in my mind as I soar out of my trailer park complex into the St. Pete sunset.

Why did I kiss her? It's not like I wanted to do anything with her, to her…

So I'd admit it. Yeah, I liked Dustin, but she seemed to have her eye on someone else. Someone like Chris Archer, and I didn't feel okay with that.  Maybe it was because he's a baseball player who earns a hell of a lot more money than me.

My mind is a fucking trap. It's a record player, playing that same old record so much it's began to skip.

Tsh-ta-tsh-ta-tsh

Fucking breathe, Dalton.

The rush became too much for me. I drove myself to a place where I swore I'd never step place in again.

I couldn't cut it. I needed to smoke something.

»

Lucky for me, my friend Bryant let me smoke with him. He offered some pot, and I accepted it.

I hadn't smoked since I was 20, when I swore I'd kick the habit that had started a little after my sixteenth birthday. It used to be pot, but if I were to smoke anything now, it'd be the occasional cigar or cigarette. Well, until tonight.

And it was just enough to where I felt calm, yet somewhat buzzed. It gave me a sense of relief.

“Friedle.” Bryant stared at me (or, at least in my direction), “You gotta tell this girl you like her.”

“But I don't.” I mumble. “I did something really stupid.”

“Well, breaking into some other chick's house is stupider.” Bryant replied.

“I need the truth. This Delilah chick is up to no good whatsoever.” I pick up my keys.

“Dalton. Are you alright?”

“Yeah.” I shrug. “I just needed to relieve myself.”

“That's something you can do in the comfort of your own bathroom.” Bryant laughed, dumping whatever contents remained of his pot. I followed suit.

“Not that kind of relief. Text me tomorrow and tell me about the Lil Pump concert.”

“Will do. Wish you could come, homie.”

“Me too, man.”

»

I drive into the apartment complex where Delilah is staying just as Big Bank by iON and Lil Pump ends on my speaker. I grab my phone and text Dustin.

To: Lyons 💚🐯

Dustin, please answer me. I know what I did was wrong.

What's Delilah's room #?

Dustinnnnnn

Damn, I'll find her myself

Getting out of the car, I tiredly drag myself towards the building in a dazed stupor. I've never done something like this before. Seriously, a boy who came from a primarily Christian family shouldn't be doing this.

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