18.) Exclusive Agreement

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18.) Exclusive Agreement



Blackness laid on top of me, a still, cold blackness. Something pounded in the distance...drums. The banging grew louder, inched closer, until it closed in.

I opened my eyes. My bedroom's white ceiling seeped into my vision as the cell phone alarm beeped. I grabbed it off of my headrest and looked at the time: 5:45am. Dace should be here soon. God, I can't wait to be next to him again, to delight in his super cute and equally as hot crooked smile.

Despite my body griping at me to stay in bed, I gathered some strength and trudged to the bathroom. Still in the hooded top I wore last night, I patted some moose onto my frizzy curls and then brushed my teeth. After freshening up and slipping into my boots, I tip-toed downstairs and quickly made two ham sandwiches. Dad shouldn't notice the few missing slices. The man eats like a damn gorilla. And he could use less; his growing, fur-ball belly made him look like one, too.

My phone rang as I finished zip-locking the sandwiches.

I swiftly answered. "Hello?"

"Good morning." Dace's voice pumped life into my blood. "I'm outside."

"Okay, see you in a sec." I glanced at my parent's bedroom before creeping out of the house. I'm not sure if Dad's aware of my plan, but I let Mom know last night—well technically a few hours ago. I don't need her thinking I got kidnapped or something.

Dace had his window open, as usual, that delightful crooked smile on his face as I approached. He also wore the same black long-sleeve and Harvey Davis cap from the night before. Not many guys can rock ball-caps, but he certainly can.

I got into the passenger. "I didn't really plan where we'd watch the sunrise, but I brought sandwiches."

His smile grew. "That's fine, I know a place."

Mmm, a surprise. I love surprises.

Through Dace's stereo speakers, a man half-sang, half-moaned in a slow, alternative song.

"I like this band," I said.

"They're called 'A Perfect Circle.'"

I focused on the words as Dace drove me to the unknown.

"I'd sell my soul, my self esteem, a dollar at a time.
One chance, one kiss, one taste
of you, my Magdalena."

I looked at Dace. He kept his gaze on the road as the skies lazily lightened to purplish blue. I'd sell my soul? That's a little...intense.

Dace peered at me, his dark eyes still glistening with that spark from a few hours ago after our passionate kiss. But his gaze sent a message I couldn't decipher...yet.

He watched the road again. The creepy song finished and a popular Disturbed one replaced it.

"This"—he turned up the volume a few notches—"is my favorite band."

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