1.7 chapter seven

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CHAPTER SEVENDEAD CALM"wonder if me if he'sjudging me like i am"˚✧₊⁎*⁎⁺˳✧༚

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CHAPTER SEVEN
DEAD CALM
"wonder if me if he's
judging me like i am"
˚✧₊*⁎⁺˳✧༚

MAYHAPS it was cliche to say, but Farrah Montgomery felt like a teenager in love.

Then again, she was a teenager in love.

The overthinking, the sweaty palms— even the rapid heartbeat all started when Kiara Carrera and Sarah Cameron pointed out something she had been entirely blind to. Whether it was a blessing or a curse, Farrah didn't know. All she knew was that the all consuming feeling of love and light was making her heart swell in joyfulness. This wasn't her first rodeo; Farrah's list of lovers were long. But none of which had ever made her feel quite like this, and certainly none of which had ever made her mind go places it was currently going. Normally she'd beat herself up over looking and acting like such a dork, but somehow it didn't matter to her that she was stumbling over her steps or stuttering the sentences out. Because whenever JJ glanced over at her, an onrush of emotions lapped into her soul like waves to the shoreline. A feeling so all consuming it made her want to listen to every song out there claiming it as a drug. The feeling so possessing that it made her truly believe she was capable of something pure. Something kind.

Farrah tried her best to maintain her usual persona in front of the pogues, but with every passing second it grew more and more challenging. Not that this childish crush had suddenly changed her entire personality, but she found it to be increasingly hard to pretend not to care about anyone but herself when all she did was care. It would be a cold day in hell before Farrah admitted to it, but sitting in the back of the Twinkie looked at the bar of gold firmly in John B's clutch made her want to hug everyone in the van ( with her disaffected somewhere in that house, there was just no way she was touching anyone ). The Montgomery girl settled for blaming it all on trauma bonding. After all, getting shot at by some old bat had to count for something, right?

     The gold bar in John B's hand had symbolised a lot of different things. For Pope it meant a secure future at college— a future where his father didn't have to shed blood, sweat and tears merely for his son to have a better life than him. For JJ it meant getting the heck away from his piece of crap father. And for John B it meant honouring everything his father had worked all his life for. Farrah's wide eyes had stayed glued to the gold bar as if she was afraid it would disappear if she looked away even for a second. It represented so much. Safety and security, everything she had ever wished for. When she had been roped into this treasure hunt she never really believed, but the heavy bar of gold was proof enough for her to want to dive head first into the mess.

     The plan going forward was seemingly easy enough. They were to melt down the bar of gold to make it untraceable, then they would pawn it off at some shop. Once they had the money, they could buy the equipment they needed to retrieve the rest of the gold securely waiting for them underneath the house. But before doing that, Farrah had taken a detour home to take a much needed shower alongside getting a change of clothes.

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