Hurricane Jones [boyxboy]

hurricane jones [20]

word count: 1853

Wyatt Stevens had the ability to make time freeze.

Dalton walked with a purpose.

He entered a room like he had a job to do, always. He always demanded attention, either by his brooding or his intention, there was something that attracted people to him.

It was like a magnet, like a tornado ripping through and it was obvious when we'd entered The Warehouse that he'd be busy all night.

The Warehouse was... exactly as advertised. A warehouse, on the outskirts of town, only woods surrounded, a mile long line of cars messily parked and teens drunk and hanging off the building inside and out.

It was loud when we walked in, a burst of EDM music and teenagers piled up in a beat-up couch pit, graffitied walls, a band was doing a soundcheck in the corner. Dalton Jones was wide-eyed and looking around at the many attractions. Skaters rode around the bowl, a dip in the floor, it deep, no helmets in sight.

Rhett was behind us, pushing past with Veronica Hall's hand intertwined in his. We'd rode in with Vincent and he disappeared shortly after parking the car. I didn't know what to do with my hands, I wanted to hold his so desperately for some reason.

Maybe it was watching my brother engage in such small intimacy like hand-holding with some girl he'd barely known... and knowing that I couldn't have that with a guy that I'd been seeing for a while. I tried not to be jealous.

I just looked up at Dalton, I watched as he licked his lips in a nervous way presumably and he was leaning into me for a short second, shoulder bumping mine, he wrapped his pinky around mine for a moment.

And then he let go.

Almost as if it didn't happen, he was walking further in, fairly quickly, halting abruptly when Cyan Cruz skated by... Cyan laughed at the Aussie jumping back, holding up a middle finger.

Cyan Cruz had always been like that: mischievous, class clown. He'd always had this way about him, like he didn't care what happened, it drew people towards him, like he'd realized life for what it was. I caught up to Dalton rather quickly. "That's just how Cyan is."

His brows furrowed and he nodded.

His silence really foreshadowed how the night would go because an hour later, I was sitting alone in the corner of a couch pit, drunk teens on top of each other, Dalton nowhere to be found. He excused himself twenty minutes prior claiming he needed to speak to someone and somehow I knew it was Hale.

Either way, I sat alone in this torn up couch pit, a cup of something Dalton had given me and truly, I had no desire to drink. The band was halfway through their set, I was sure, it more pop-punk and Vinny if anything. I tried to have a good time, I did but none of this was my scene and I was very sure that I shouldn't have come in the first place.

Wyatt was also nowhere to be found, I wondered if he'd decided not to come. I was bored, off to the side while the guy I was seeing had disappeared, I'd been scrolling through twitter, really twitter-stalking Wyatt Stevens, trying to see if he'd come out.

He was one of those people that unironically tweeted, it was 2014, no one unironically tweeted. Either way his most recent post was about Three Day Rain, Rhett's friend's band, a link to a new song, that was cool.

"Hey." A feminine voice called out to me as she stepped into the trench. Almost glossy legs, a blinged out anklet over jeweled sandals and wrist full of bangles, Shelley McKim was smiling over at me. "You're Vince's little brother right?"

I tried not to stare, really, but Shelley McKim was all curves, all feminine and glowing and soft. She was wearing super short jean shorts, and her top was so very small that she was almost bursting out of it. I avoided looking, hoping she'd somehow be able to tell that I wasn't attracted to her. Still, she smiled.