Wanderlust (Kellic)

Chapter 6

Chapter 6 - A Little Bit Closer

Before I even have a chance to wonder where Vic went, his phone rings—I guess he didn’t take it with him. The name “Tony” shows up on the screen. After a brief moment of contemplation, I answer the call: “Hello? This is Kellin.”

"Kellin?" Tony repeats. "Where’s Vic?"

"I don’t know," I admit. "I woke up and he was just…gone. Why are you calling him at two in the morning anyway?"

Tony sighs. “Because I was afraid something like this would happen.”

I narrow my eyes. “Something like what?”

"Vic goes out in the middle of the night a lot. He, uh…well, has he ever smoked in front of you?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Well, that’s not his only bad habit."

I sit down on my bed. “What are you saying, exactly?”

"What I’m saying is that Vic is probably out getting drunk somewhere, or maybe high. What I’m saying is that when it comes to those things, he doesn’t really know where to stop."

His words send my heart racing. What if something bad happens to him?

"It’s scary sometimes, when he does this," Tony continues. "He’s wild, in both good and bad ways, and sometimes he can get uncontrollable. He’s like a fucking hurricane."

"A hurricane," I repeat softly. Somehow, I can picture it: Vic Fuentes, who runs rampant with excitement and intensity and reckless abandon. Vic Fuentes, a hurricane.

"I just hope he comes back," Tony says. "He probably will, because things have been pretty good lately. But…yeah. Now you know."

"Okay," I say slowly, trying to stay calm. "I’ll try to keep an eye on him, okay?"

Suddenly, I realize what Vic means when he says he gets treated like a head case. And now I have a better understanding as to why.

"Okay," Tony says. "Well, uh, it was good talking to you. Hope you find Vic."

"Yeah, me too. Bye."

I hang up, and only seconds after I set the phone down on the side table, the door to the hotel room opens. Vic stumbles through and closes it behind him.

"Kellin," he says, swaying on his feet. "What are you doing up?" His words slur.

"Looking for you," I reply. "Where were you?"

"Out." He makes his way to his bed, nearly tripping over his own two feet, and falls right into it.

"Vic," I say. "Are you okay?" I don’t know why I expect him to answer me. After all, I never answer him.

"I’m fine, Kellin," he says, smiling blissfully, as if he’s in his own little world.

Cautiously, I ask, “How many drinks did you have?”

He shrugs, closing his eyes. “I don’t know. Stopped counting after, like, five.” His hair falls in disheveled clumps over his face, and when I reach out to brush them away, he smacks my hand lightly. “Leave me alone, Kellin,” he whines.

"How did you even drive back here?" I whisper, staring at him in awe. He’s breathing sort of fast, his face is flushed and sweaty, and from what I can tell, coordination is not on his side tonight. He’s anything but sober.

"I don’t know," he repeats, his voice getting softer. "Wasn’t too far away. I was fine…"

And then he’s out.