Burning Out

66- Miami #3*

Song- Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby by Cigarettes After Sex

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Leonardo Alvarez POV:

"I say this one!" Noémi calls out from ahead of us, strutting down the busy pavement with her heels clinking in an echo.

Olly walks just a few strides ahead, shaking his head with, I'm sure, a massive smile on his face as he watches his girlfriend riddle in excitement.

She falls to a stop and spins to face us, wide eyes begging for our pace to quicken as she waits at the door of a bar. It's ten at night, the streets are filled with people out to spend their money on alcohol and drugs and the heat fuzzes around us. Neon lights pile out through the open doors of the bar as she waits at the door.

When Farrah and I finally reach the building, Noémi is already throwing herself through the doors and bounding straight for shots. With my fingers linked in between Farrah's, I gently laugh at Noémi and guide us through the mass of surrounding people.

There are booths and tables and it looks like we're about to spend away a lot of money in this place. It reeks of over-priced beverages.

It's our last night in Miami and we're planning on spending it well. The day was spent mostly at the beach. Farrah lay under the sun reading while the three of us lobbed various types of balls at each other. I have to admit, it was a real good stress reliever being able to chuck an object as hard as I possibly could straight at Olly.

We ended up migrating back to our hotel when I hit Olly in the stomach and winded him. Noémi had to care for him like a mother until he got his breath back, which he then wasted on yelling at me.

Nothing of last night has been discussed— well, that's what Farrah must assume. Olly, Noémi and I have all collectively agreed to keep the conversation of last night under wraps until we get back to New York. We don't know what type of shit will come of it, so we are going to wait until we're in a secure location. We want to spend our last night in Miami positively.

Admittedly, Farrah's been unusually quiet today. Although, it's expected. I would presume someone finding out their missing mother is still very much alive and out there, with a hint of an idea as to where she is, would be slightly unsettling.

And then on top of that, there's also the fact she killed somebody for the very first time. And it wasn't exactly subtle, either. She dug that knife deep into his already dying body with malicious intent— and I couldn't be more proud of her for it. The problem lies in the fact that I have no idea what she thinks of the situation. I could take a guess and say that she's swimming in guilt and it's rotting away each cell of her body.

My plan is to just get her to forget about it tonight and be free until we need to go back to our regular life. Then when we return to our reality, we can deal with all of the shit of the weekend.

I slide into the booth where Olly sits with his eyes trained on Noémi as she stands at the bar, happily ordering our drinks for us. Farrah sits quietly beside me, looking at her fingers and playing with her cuticles until she eventually begins to chip off small portions of her nail varnish.

My eyes watch her hands as I sit beside her, desperately thinking of solutions. The only one that pops straight to the forefront of my mind is alcohol.

I told Farrah the other night about how I have recently been attempting to stray away from alcohol. I have come to a conclusion that I generally use it as an escape route. I try to drown my mind until I can't hear my thoughts anymore and it's damaging, I admit.

Tonight, however, I don't fucking care. It may be a bad thing to say, it may be a terrible thing to say, but I just want to let loose and be free from the handcuffs of life for another night. Besides, it's usually when I'm alone with access to excessive amounts of alcohol that it turns ugly. Tonight I am going to be surrounded by Farrah, so it will be okay.