Wicked Love | √

Twelve

P R E S T O N
seven years ago

THE silence that coats the air as we pull up to the house is so thick and full of mystery it threatens to choke us all and I think we all secretly love it. We thrive during the pranks. Right at the beginning before we've even made our first move when the nervous yet untamed energy runs through our veins making us feel like more than the princes we know we are. It's potent as hell and we all crave another hit when the night draws to a close.

We are always looking for the next target. Next game. It's always in good fun but there's always been this touch of darkness that edges it's way in, but we always keep it at bay.

We may only be young and stupid teenagers but we are smart enough to know who our fathers are. We are smart enough to know where the line is, and we don't cross that line. Ever. Ruining our lives is one thing. Ruining our fathers' lives. That would be hell on earth. One even our devilish little souls couldn't handle.

But tonight. Tonight is different. The darkness isn't just lingering near the edges. Waiting. It's already struck and it's everywhere. No matter where I look it's as if it has it's hooks in us and refuses to let go and it makes a chill race down my spine. It catches me off guard and I try to shake it off, but it remains in the back of my head like a reminder of what's to come.

An omen. One I should pay attention to, but instead I take a hit of the blunt Everett has dangling between his fingers.

Nathaniel lives in the same neighborhood as Lucas so we were easily able to gain access through the front gates with his code. But as soon as we round the street I think we all feel the change. The tension that coils between us. The heat that smolders around us. The humidity causes beads of sweat to form on the backs of our necks and trail down.

Everyone can feel the change but no one knows what it will bring which only makes my heart race faster.

Lawrence completely turns the radio off and flicks his headlights off as we pull closer to Lucas's house. This isn't our first rodeo and we know we have to remain invisible. People can assume all they want, but without evidence all the accusing glares are just that. Baseless accusations of people who wish they could be us.

I draw my gaze over Lucas's house to see what we are working with. It's big. Not as big as mine, but a sprawling three stories and completely made of faded red brick. It's classic with its white columns and front porch adorned with rocking chairs and potted plants.

The house has been passed down through his family for years. His great grandfather and his grandfather were US senators and now so is his mother for another term. The family is an influential one for sure but more so for their past history and continuous faithful connections not because they bring fear. They don't hold those cards.

Not like my father does.

And not even close to Lawrence's family power. He has a former Vice President for fucks sake as a step-father and his real father would've become president if not for the cancer. He's steeped in the kind of power one can only dream of and he also knows how to use fear and power like no one else I've ever seen.

Even at fifteen he is one scary motherfucker.

The car finally comes to a stop down the street from Lucas's house and we all quietly exit the car. Almost as if we are all collectively holding our breaths.

Everett rounds the corner and passes me his flask. I grasp onto it instinctually as if it's a lifeline. I crave the burn of the liquor slithering down my throat to calm the low hum of nerves that flood my body making me buzz with a new and unfamiliar energy.