reticent

50

• AMALIA •

When I wake up again, I'm surrounded by the feeling of familiarity that bleeds from my bedroom.

A heavy arm is wrapped around my shoulders. Grayson tucks me closer to him as he sleeps soundly beside me, his chest rising and falling with even breaths.

     I shuffle away from him, sitting up. I stagger out of bed, grab money from my florist fund, walk over to my door and step outside.

I make my way through the house until I get downstairs. Then I slide on the shoes waiting for me beside the door and unlock it, walking out.

I don't know where I plan on going, but I've only been awake for a few minutes and that house already feels suffocating. I pump my legs, wishing I'd changed before I left, or brought my phone and some ear buds to listen to music.

I haven't listened to music in so long.

When I find what I'm looking for, I pull my money out of my pocket with shaky hands and walk over to the two teenagers on the opposite side of the road. The girl looks up, her dark hair spilling over her shoulder as she meets my gaze. The boy follows her gaze to me, and he leans back on the brick wall behind him.

"Are you drug dealers?" I ask.

The girl arches a perfectly shaped brow. "Excuse me?"

The boy, however, ticks his lips up at the sides. "Are you looking to buy some drugs?"

I nod.

He looks amused. "And what are you looking for?"

"Clonazepam."

     His eyebrows shoot up, a surprised look taking over his expression. "That's a sedative."

     "I know that."

     "Do I look like a drug dealer?" The girl mumbles to herself. His eyes stay trained on me, and I fight the urge to squirm under his gaze.

     "No." He says shortly, glancing at her. He tilts his head. "Why do you want a sedative?"

     "You're not supposed to ask that."

     His amusement grows. "I'm not supposed to?"

     "Can you give me some or not?" I snap.

     "Mhm." He hums. "Not for free, though."

     I pass him the fifty pound bill. He arches an eyebrow. "What?" I question. "Is it not enough? I've never bought drugs before."

     "It's more than enough." He mumbles. "Stay here." He orders, then walks around the brick wall.

     I look up at the girl. "It's not that you look like a drug dealer or anything. It's just an aura thing."

     Her eyes narrow into slits. "An aura thing?"

     I nod.

     She rolls her eyes next, and then her friend reappears. He hands me a small ziplock bag, and I open it and look inside, finding seven syringes full of liquid.