"Can't keep standing still when this fire's turning blue."
Turning blue by Adam Agin.

“Dylan is no fun,” Claire blusters the moment she joins us back on the table with Alexa tailing her. “He always takes off like that in the middle of the night."  She ventilates her displeasure with a dramatic eye-roll that puts Kim Kardashian’s to shame.

Do they even sleep?
Of course. They don't have to aggravate themselves with jobs.

“Who was that guy?” I blurt out, not being able to constrain my curiosity any longer. Is it only curiosity though? Because I conceive a hoot of panic laced with it. “The one Dylan left with.”

They all stare at me in silence for a long moment, before Logan parts his mouth to answer. “He-”

“Don't.” Claire speaks through gritted teeth, turning to face me with a mien full of condescension, as if she were deigning to speak to someone so valueless like me. “Do you think you have the right to ask questions just because you got to hang out with us for a little while?” She studies her friends’ faces, clearly casting about for a reasonable answer to her question, before she crosses her arms, goggling me with eyes freshly extracted from the freezer. “I don't think so.”

The way she's looking down her nose at me as if I were a piece of trash, makes my ego double over in pain. Suddenly, my anxiety is replaced by fury.

I lean back in my seat, trying to relax my features in order to look cool and unaffected. “I don't know if it works on everyone else, but I assure you that it doesn't on me.” I inwardly high-five myself when my voice comes out sleek and nonchalant.

“What?” she tilts her head.

“Your stuck-up bitchy attitude. You either pull that stick out of your ass or I'll only have to shove it up some more.” I lean forward and rest my elbows on the table, ignoring how gay the words sounded, and continue. “My bitchy side is hardcore, and I suggest you don't provoke it.” I shrug one shoulder.

I didn't lie. My temper is quite rough-and-tumble. I remember calling my teacher a bitch once. What happened? Nothing except being nearly expelled, but my mother did a successful job at begging her to overlook my brainless action, promising that it would never happen again. She was right. I didn't want to see her begging again. No one wants to see their mother being cheapened like that.

But she's not here now, is she?

I hear Trent choking on his beer, and out of the corner of my eye I catch Alexa's mouth parted in shock, but I don't chicken out.

It happens so fast that I fail to foresee it. She splashes my face with her untouched Margarita.

I close my eyes for a second, calming my flaring temper, a temper that she never wants to get acquainted with. She leans forward, mimicking my posture. “I know what's on your mind-” she reaches out with her index finger to prod me in the forehead, but I catch her wrist, squeezing a bit, reminding her of the day she gave me the same treatment. She tugs her hand free and continues, “You want to be a part of us, but I don't have to fill you in on what happened to the last one who tried.” she stops, looking around to make sure she has her friends' attention. She smirks wickedly, sharing a mysterious memory with them before turning back to me. “At least she was a bit decent, not a penniless, needy piece of trash who dreams too big.” She sneers at me before she sighs dramatically, feigning tiredness, and stands, muttering, “I need a refill.”

I'm paralysed for a moment. The rage inside me is unutterable. It's so imposing and overwhelming, wanting to explode in different, murky forms, but I postpone them, except for one.

Just as she turns to leave and get her drink, I stab. “Looks like I'm not the only one who dreams too big.” My words bring her to a halt. Good, it worked. “No matter what you do Claire, no matter how hard you'll try, he'll never be interested in you.” I don't mention names, I don't need to. We both know whom I'm talking about. I bet the ninety dollars I have in my purse that her friends do too.

She stands there for what feels like ages, before she turns back to face me, a murderous look on her face. Satisfactory. I lean back, a smirk on my face, before I retrieve a tissue from my satchel and wipe my face with it, waiting for her answer.

She points her index at me again. Looks like she favors that finger. “Try and tell him the bullshit you just said and I'll ruin you.”

“I'm not going to tell him, but only because he already knows.” I reason, my smirk never leaving my face.

She opens her mouth again to come back but Trent butts in, his voice full of authority. “Enough, you two.” his eyes dart between the two of us. “Go fetch your drink, Claire.”

“I warned you.” She snarls at me before she storms off.

Silence envelops the table. No one speaks a word, before Alexa stands and leaves to join Claire, who is now seated at the bar. My eyes meet Logan’s, whose face is devoid of any emotion. He only stares at me, but I see a flicker of amusement dancing in his glimmering eyes. “I didn't know you had it in you.” He drawls in a deep, bass voice. Is he always that seductive? If so, then I don't blame the girls who willingly give themselves to him.

Trent relaxes back in his seat, gulping his beer. “I did.” a small smile forming on his face.

“Isn't she your cousin? I thought you were going to take her side.” I turn in my seat, facing Trent.

“I don't take sides, Candice. They might.” He motions with his hand to each seat, referring to his friends. “But I don't, and believe me, Claire is a fighter. She doesn't need anyone to back her up, unless it's a certain human being.” He finishes his beer in one gulp and slams it on the table. “And I think you already know who.”

I find myself wondering whom Dylan would side up with in a fight like this. Not that I care.

“I'll get another round.” Trent stands.

“Oh count me out. It's too late and I've got to go home.” I stand, pulling down my striped top that has ridden up my back.

“I'm leaving too. I'll drive you on my way.” Logan offers, standing up too.

“No, I'll drive her.” Trent hastens, picking up his stuff from the table.

Logan waves his hand dismissively, “It's okay, I will. You look like you want to stay for more.”

Trent hesitates for a second. “Okay.”

As soon as I exit Emerald with Logan, I offer him an out, even though I despise the idea of riding a bus right now. Thankfully he insists on driving me home, so I gladly tell him my address.

He owns no other than a BMW, and I can't help blurting out. “Nice car.” I've never ridden such a delectable car in my whole life. It smells new and expensive, and yes expensiveness has a scent, a fragrant one.

“Thanks.” he starts the car. “It's a M6 Gran Coupe.” he proudly says, as if the name would make sense to me. “It only arrived last week. I've been trying for weeks to persuade my dad to get it for my birthday.” He smiles in triumph, and I detect a dimple on his right cheek.

What a freehanded father.

“When was your birthday?” I ask. Relaxing back in the luxurious passenger seat, my face turned to him.

“Is.” he corrects. “It's next Saturday. I'm throwing up a small party. You should come.” he turns to look at me for a moment, smiling graciously, before his eyes turn back on the road again.

I remain silent for while, considering his invitation. Should I go? It's not like something horrible happened tonight.

Then the memory of what happened between Claire and me strikes, making me blurt out the wrong decision.

“Sure, I will.”

I'll make you regret what you said today, bitch Claire.

A grin slowly plants itself on his luscious, pierced lips. “I'll give you details on Friday.” he promises.

He stops directly in front of my building, turning to face me. “I hope you had fun with us today, Candice.” he tilts his head to one side, his face betraying amusement.

“Oh very much fun.” I roll my eyes, touching my face, only to find out how sticky it has become. I groan, throwing my head back against the seat’s headrest. Damn me for not washing it earlier.

He laughs. “I'd say sorry, but you didn't let her get away with it.”

“Never.” I smile victoriously.

“Look,” He all of a sudden turns serious. “She’s not that bad, but she's so possessive of us. She'll literally ruin whoever tries to part us, and she considers you a threat.” he shrugs. “But you're not, are you?” his eyebrows slightly arch, demanding affirmation. Why do I sense a threat beyond his words?

“I'm not.” I don't hesitate.

His smile is back. “We're friends then, Candice.” The words sound like a promise, but a promise of what? I have yet to discover.

I release a breath the moment I close the door and lean back against it, feeling ultimately exhausted. I look at my watch to check the time. It's nearly 2:15. I've never stayed up this late in my whole life, let alone outside. I'm usually home by 12:30 every work night, and by 1 Am I'm always unconscious, so yeah this is a first.

Logan's words keep ringing in my ears. He doesn't mind me hanging out with them as long as I don't try to destroy their bond. I can't help but wonder, has anyone tried to? Is it that girl Claire hinted at? Who is that girl anyway?

A bitter feeling swarms all over me the moment her name materializes in my head. Claire.

At least she was a bit decent, not a penniless needy piece of trash who dreams too big.

A penniless needy piece of trash who dreams too big.

My mind flashes back to a memory I've been trying to deny the whole night. A memory so dark and afflicting. A memory amongst many that I'd pay the little I have to perpetually decimate.

“You'll never get a penny from my son's money as long as I'm alive, Susan.” The old woman's cruel voice tears through my heart, sending a shiver down my spine.

“Please. I can't afford a life for both of us on my own.” My mom sobs, her moist blue eyes begging for mercy.

“It's not my problem that you dreamt too big. You couldn't stop yourself from seducing my son, could you? You thought you could marry him and savor his and our money, huh?” The woman's voice raises even more, making mommy weeps even more.

“I loved him, I swear it. I still do. I was never after his money.”

“Gold diggers like you know no love.” The woman deadpans. “Get out.”

“Please, I'm begging you. She's your granddaughter.” My mom reaches out and pulls me into her embrace, tightly holding me. “If it's not for me, for her. Help her.”

The despiteful woman looks at me for a second, her eyes penetrating mine. She keeps staring and staring, seeking a certain part in me, and I stare back, hearing my mom's ceaseless pleads in the background. The woman's expression falters for a beat before she presses a button on her desk. Two security guards enter the office a short while later.

“Help this trash out.”

My breathing escalates in wrath upon recalling the memory, and I find myself angrily hurling my bag across the room. It collides with a vase, making it fall with a booming CRASH.

Fuck.

I hurry across the room and try to fix the mess I invoked. I hear a door opening, and I can't help the groan that escapes my mouth. Just what I needed.

“Are you okay, Candice?” Hannah’s voice sounds genuinely concerned.

I close my eyes for a moment, breathing in and out, before I turn around to face her, only to ascertain that she's not alone. Standing behind her is a half-naked guy. A half-naked guy that I know very well.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

..... ..... ..... ..... .....

*Now, who is that mysterious guy?* wink wink;)

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