13; delinquent

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YOU'VE ALWAYS BEEN THE ONE
DAD WAS PROUD OF

❝ YOU'VE ALWAYS BEEN THE ONEDAD WAS PROUD OF ❞

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"Dallas Winston..."

My lips formed a thin line. The wall ahead of me was dull and grey, bits and pieces crumbling to the cell floors. I rubbed it delicately with my fingers, gazing tediously with a blank stare. I pulled my legs to my chest and rested my chin on my knee, entertaining myself by scorning Dallas. He seemed unfazed by the whole ordeal, leaning back on his bench with one foot propped up and the other hanging loosely.

"Holly Randle." He tilted his head slightly to get a better look at me. From the diminutive slip of light casted above him, the sliver of a window, his features were a pale blue and glistening. I pushed some of my hair back and hitched my chin, faking a glare.

"I'm gonna be in so much trouble." The laugh that escaped my lips was unhumorous. My hands, covered in dirt and grime, swept through my hair and gently rubbed my temples. It felt as if my head would combust at any given second.

"You say that with a smile." Dallas pushed his hair back and tilted his chin. I exhaled sharply and swung from the bench, supported by two weak chains, and planted my feet on the cold ground.

After being swept away from police, Dallas and I were driven to the station and locked up in a holding cell. There was a dusty bed in the corner, two bunks with strange, questionable stains on the beige sheets. Parallel were two benches hanging from some weak chains that I felt would break at any second, given the crumbling walls. I supposed they were figuring out what to do with him, and waiting for somebody to pick me up and take me home.

"I'd like to enjoy my last few hours on earth, thank you very much." I leaned back against the wall and kicked my feet up. Dallas shook his head and threw it back with laughter.

"You're dramatic," he pointed a wavering finger, "this is your first misdemeanor, enjoy it. You're going home."

"First? As in there will be a second? Nuh uh. Never again will I fall under the influence of Dallas Winston." I snorted, tilting my chin and hooding my eyes. With hours of waiting in a cold, damp cell I was growing weary. The bed in the corner was tempting, but I didn't trust the sheets, especially not the pillows.

"You've done it once, you've done it twice and you'll do it again." He snickered and rubbed his jaw.

I shook my head, closing my eyes and let my lips curve slightly. "And you?"

"What?"

"You'll keep you locked up, what? A week, two weeks?" I asked, waving my hand in the air.

Dallas seemed to think over his answer. "Depends."

"On?" I jerked my brows.

"Good behavior, how bad the vandalism was..." he trailed off, eyes flickering up to the window casting a pale light. We both stared at it from our position on separate benches. Dallas clasped his hands together and cracked each finger, making me cringe.

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