Maroon Socks

26: SAND, SAND, SAND

026: SAND, SAND, AND SAND

DAY 10.99

DISCLAIMER: the author, under any circumstances, does not promote concepts such as smoking and drinking.

Arthur Bradley and Dakota Adler are walking along the outline of the park with a beach, enjoying the freshness the night air brings along. There's something about tonight.

It must be the chemistry between the pair, that crackles every second, sending sparks down their spines.

As they approach everyone else, they can't help but not ignore that sensational feeling. There isn't any going back. They're already into too deep.

When they come near the others, Dakota can hear the soft laughter. Their silhouettes can be seen from where she is, and she faintly registers Elijah's muscular frame, sitting on a box, towering over the others on the sand. There are constant movements from all of them, which make Dakota smile in contentment.

Dakota recalls what happened tonight. She needs a reliever. Yes – a reliever. What else could physiologically do that?

Dakota glances at the cigarette box in her hand, debating whether or not she should do this or not. But how is she supposed to complete this wish? Then she remembers, her hand quickly reaching the pockets of the jacket Arthur laid over her.

Her fingers curl around the metal, and then she pulls it out.

Arthur is too busy with looking at the vast vegetation in this park, to even consider what she's doing.

There's a spark and a flame, and then there's a lit cigarette top. There's a breath in and a breath out. There's a breath filled with toxic smoke.

Then there's Arthur who's alarmed by the familiar smell. He whips his head towards his sunshine on a rainy day.

She's smoking. STOP SMOKING! Arthur wishes to yell.

But he's frozen. Stuck in place because he never ever thought that this was her motive.

Dakota tips her head back, having fun with the smoke pouring out of her mouth. She giggles, as if high on ecstasy, and looks at Arthur giving him a look – a very sensual look.

"What're you staring at?" Dakota questions, as she takes a step near him. When he doesn't answer, she chuckles, leaning close and blows the smoke onto his face.

Arthur knows that this isn't good. He knows that this isn't good at all and that this is going to kill her – as it is going to kill him.

"Stop," Arthur demands, looking at her intently.

"Why, Bradley? Does me smoking have you all hot and bothered?" Dakota teases, shrugging a shoulder.

Arthur doesn't reply. Instead, he just lifts his hand and lets his nimble fingers grab hold of the cigarette and pull it out of her hold. Her cry is hold just as he places the cigarette between his lips. His free hand grasps Dakota's, to hold her back. Maybe.

Usually, putting something that's been in someone else's mouth irks Arthur, but with Dakota he finds himself not minding. It's weird. All of this is.

"Such a babe," Dakota whispers, for him not to hear. Then, she laughs, taking the cigarette back. She sips on it, not understanding why Arthur and Brooke do this nearly every three hours. "You didn't smoke before this trip, Arthur. I would know; I observe you. Not trying to sound creepy at all."