Tragedy On Silverdale Road

Blunt

'What are you saying, bbydoll?'

That you should die.

'I don't understand. We are in love.'

You're so fucking stupid m8. Get a damn life of your own and stay out of mine. Forever.

'Violet I love you'

Good thing I didn't ask.

'Why are you being so harsh lately? I just want to be with you'

Again, I didn't ask. Do yourself a favor and fuck off. Never talk to me again.

Blocking Evan's number is always easy. He gets blocked every other day, but this time I'm over him. His persistence isn't sexy and I want to honestly watch him die.

Sylvia cheekily smiles at me from her lounge chair. "Look at you, telling boys off and rolling blunts. You're literally twenty years ago me."

I wink at him before lighting the very blunt she's talking about. The high hits me like a truck. My problems, my feelings die down a million times over. The loud roar of motorcycle engines fill the evening air. It's become a common sound here on Silverdale Road. I sit back, laughing that stoner laugh, and just savoring my sadness.

Orange and pinks paint the horizon. Sylvia pulls a shit from her pocket as Steven runs into the building. Poor kid, his date probably didn't go well.

Sylvia shrieks happily. "Look! Look!"  Her finger shakily points to the mouth of the street. The outline of dozens of motorcycles comes into view, contrasting with the warm colors of the sky.

Maybe it's the marijuana, maybe it's those pesky feelings, but the sight of all those bald men makes me tingle. I jump up from my chair, laughing like a hyena, oblivious to the haze around my brain.

"L-Let's. . . Let's smoke w-with theeemm!" I cheer. "A pound to waste man!" I hold up the plastic bag of weed in enthusiasm. The Rae Sremmurd blasts louder as I flag down the group.

I must look fearless: a small girl with little shorts and a little shirt, a big bag of the devil's lettuce in her hand. That stoned smile on my face is the icing on the cake. Viper smirks down at me. "Well, well, well, little mama is fried."

"Baked. Roasted. Toasted. Yoouu name it!" I giggle. "Let's smoke together guys. I got a few pounds."

They don't need more convincing.

➖✖➖

"T-Then the lady just totally fu-fucking took my cart--."

"Ain't that enough story time, Kitten?"

I swirl around, my steps not at all balanced, and come face to chest with a tall bald man. My tall bald man. I look up at him, not sure what he's talking about. "Huh?"

He chuckles. "Let's get your blown ass into bed." His hand envelopes mine. With direction from Sylvia he manages to find my loft within an hour, at least it feels like an hour later. Bryson takes the key from me, sparking a chain of laughter from his cold hands. He shakes his head, trying to hide his laughter as well. He's always done that, ever since we were little. "C'mon, Kitten, take your clothes off."

I purr softly at his words. "Don't even get dinner first, huh, papi?" He also loved that. And judging by his jaw tick he still does. "You wanna fuck me before buying me dinner?"

"That's what you do now? You get sorry excuses of men to buy you dinner for a quick fuck?" I nod, pulling my shirt over my braless breasts. I sit, topless, in front of my first love. My first lover. "Do you bring them here, lie down, and let them do whatever they want to you?" Again I nod. He gulps deeply before speaking again. "Tell me, Kitten, is swallowing a cöck still as easy as breathing for you?"

"You know it."