BLACK TAR → madwheeler

three.

     ⋆｡˚ MAX MAYFIELD PULLED INTO THE LONG GRAVEL DRIVEWAY LEADING UP TO THE HUGE WOODEN HOUSE, PUTTING HER CAR INTO PARK. She turned off the engine, pulling a strand of hair out of her eyes as she looked over at her dark-haired companion in the passenger seat. 

     Mike was checking his eyes in the mirror of her car -- not too red, although he definitely couldn't judge his pupil sizes from how they had looked this morning -- and as he felt her stare he flipped it upwards. 

     "Ready?" He asked. 

     Max shrugged. "A little nervous, meeting a group of. . ." She faltered. 

     Mike raised his eyebrows. "Drug dealers." 

     She blushed slightly, before nodding. "Well, yeah." 

     In response, he opened the car door, grabbing his duffel bag from his feet below. He leaned towards her, his dark eyes meeting her own. "Trust me, Mayfield. If there's any of these guys that you had to have met, just be pretty glad that it was me." 

     He didn't say anything more; just let her figure out the rest of his explanation from the sentence alone as he finally stepped out of the car, his lean body exiting the car as he ducked out. 

     Max put her keys into her purse, turning and grabbing the bottle of pills resting in her glove compartment. She dropped the bottle into her purse, zipping it tightly up as she closed the car door behind her, clicking her keys until she heard the beep of her lock. 

     She followed Mike's lead, keeping pace with him as he lead her into the hugely built house, closing the door behind them as they entered the foyer. 

     "Okay, so usually everyone is in the dining room," Mike told her, hoisting his bag more highly up on his shoulder. "That's where we all meet to talk about shit and stuff." 

     Max raised her eyebrows. "Where you talk about your money, your supplies, your own stock of whatever drugs you all are addicted too -- yeah, that stuff." 

     Mike laughed slightly, jerking his head to get her to follow him as he lead her throughout the house. "Alright, shit. You know more than I thought you did." 

     Max didn't mention she had Googled bullshit for an hour during study hall. Instead, she nodded to the black duffel bag by his side. "Saw you pick that up after third period. And fifth. And then after school. Obviously there's a business in there." 

     She watched as something in Mike's face changed. They reached the kitchen, and he slowed slightly, hitching the bag higher up on his shoulder. 

     "Almost clever enough," He said smoothly, crossing the tiled floor towards the door to the dining room. "Business is in my backpack, and my locker. My shit's in here." 

     Max looked at him sharply, but he didn't go into any further detail. Instead, he went and took the seat near the head of the table. Max followed him, her red hair falling across her face as she finally looked up and took in who the fuck else was in the room with her. 

     "Holy shit," A voice said from the head of the table, and Max looked up, meeting a blonde boy's strikingly blue eyes. "Wheeler actually brought Max Mayfield to our fucking shit show." 

    Max shook her head, laughing slightly. "Talked me into it." 

     Xan flipped his blonde hair out of his eyes, his gaze roaming over the girl's. "Xan Elliot." 

     Max barked out a real laugh this time. "You're kidding. Like--" 

     "Xans, the drug, yeah," Xan rolled his eyes, sitting back his chair. "Wheeler christened me that a long time ago, thanks very much. Full name's Xander, but who the fuck wants to use that, huh?"