Cold Coffee and Stale Cigarettes *on hold*

Chapter 25

                You smug sonofabitch, I thought to myself, grinning at the piece of paper Dalton had claimed in the middle of my notebook at the lunch. It was a cartoon character, mouth shaped into an S shape, eyes bulging, as his pants smoked and flamed. I knew I was a shitty liar but was it necessary for him to take it out on my chemistry notebook? Sighing, I ripped out the paper, going to the next freshest sheet to continue my homework. I wanted to get as much done as possible before I was getting picked up, seeing as I still had three worksheets due the next day.

                The doorbell echoed and Tyler screamed through the house that he was going to get it. Sighing, I slipped my jacket back on, discarding my unfinished homework, before I walked to the door. Tyler and Dalton were at the landing, hissing to each other under their breath, Tyler erratically gesturing with his hands. Dalton rolled his eyes and must’ve seen me, as his head snapped to me and he elbowed my brother. Tyler quieted and turned to see me, mouth stretched into a grin.

                “Now Sam, I want you home by eleven o’clock and if you’re even one minute late you are so unbelievably grounded you’re great, great, great grandchildren will feel it.”

                “Wow, I’m really scared now.” I muttered, shaking my head. “Tara’ll be home soon, right?”

                “Nope. She’s caught up in work.” He shrugged, eyes diverting, before they darted back up to me. “If anyone makes a move let me know and I’ll get my baseball bat.”

                “Yea, ok.” I snorted, and then winced at the smell of stale smoke flooding my senses. Glancing at Dalton, I took in his appearance. He was wearing a black dress shirt, a tie loosely looped at the collar, and black skinny jeans, the usual black vans accompanying the outfit. The cologne of his choosing was cigarettes. His dark eyes hardened for a moment, when he realized I had caught him, and his hand connected with the back of his neck, as he shifted slightly on his feet.

                “Ready?” he asked gruffly.

                “No.” I felt myself grimace. “Let’s go.”   The wind was uncharacteristically bitter, nipping at my flesh. “You really don’t want to go, do you?” I inhaled, feeling the air bite my lungs. What has you so stressed?

                “I wouldn’t mind if he wasn’t going.” Dalton didn’t look up from the ground but I felt my eyes dart to the driver side of the car, where Rob was sitting, watching us, lips moving silently to my ears. “Well, let’s get this over with.” He walked around to the other side of the car and I slid into the passenger side behind Rob, anxiety spearing my nerves. My heart was sputtering in my chest, stomach rolling at the stench of cigarettes soaked into the fabric of the car. Dalton was pointedly glaring out the window, and Rachel twisted in her seat, lips painted red, eyes enhanced by dark liner, hair curled and pinned in a loose bundle.

                “What is with you two and wearing black?” she huffed, playing with the hem of her red dress. “This is a wedding, not a funeral.”

                “Same thing, really.” Dalton muttered roughly and I resisted the urge to smirk.

                “Dalton, don’t start.” she snapped, eyes flickering to him for a moment, “You look nice Sam. I’ve never seen you in a dress before.”

                “Thanks,” Heat flooded my cheeks and I forced my breathing to regulate in an attempt to fix it. “You do too.”