𝐋𝐔𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐒. ᵒᵘᵗᵉʳ ᵇᵃⁿᵏˢ ¹

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 04.

━ 𝗱𝗶𝗿𝘁𝘆 𝗯𝗿𝗼𝘄𝗻 𝘃𝗮𝗻

    𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐖 away from me when I hopped off.

The boy, famous for John B, opened the driver's side door of his van. As he stepped out, I lifted my blurry eyes to see a cheeky grin plastered over his face, straight rows of white teeth showing. He was wearing a different button-down shirt, keeping it completely wide open to showcase his chest and stomach. He was much taller than me.

    He didn't say anything as he pulled open the door of the van, revealing a somewhat dirty space with no real seats. Without asking, he brushed past me, causing me to step back as our bodies slightly touched. The smell of sea-water wafted through my nose from his scent, and he grabbed both handles of the bike. He placed it carefully down on its side, and turned to me. His hair was blowing in the wind, eyes squinted from the rain.

    "Make yourself comfortable, m'lady," He grinned, motioned towards the open door, and then turned away. He ran a hand through his medium-length hair, pushing the wet strands back, and closed his door.

    I figured it was my chance to run, to not get abducted by two randoms in a sketchy van, but I couldn't leave Caroline's bike. And, I hated the way it sounded in my head, but the Routledge kid was right. I would've eventually blown away in the wind, or got swallowed by the hurricane.

    "On what," I said with a low tone, more to myself than to him and his friend, as I looked at the dirty floor of the van. There was no safe place to sit other than a ripped couch-like seat near the back. Two wet surfboards were leaning on one side of it.

    "Dude, we can't just take a rando off the street," John B's friend spoke, trying to whisper so I wouldn't hear, but failing since he had to talk loud over the rain. The drops were pounding on the roof, and I thought they just might break through the ceiling of the rickety van if we stayed in place for too long.

    "Relax, Pope," John B mused, with a calm tone of voice. "I know who she is."

    I was climbing into the van, my wet sneakers squishing against it's carpet floor. John B watched me through the rear-view mirror, while I closed the heavy door with a bang. Inside, it smelled like soda, sea-water, salt, and a hint of weed. I grimaced, placing my soaking wet bottom on the floor beside Caroline's bike.

    "No, you don't know who she is," Pope continued to disagree, still trying to keep quiet, even though I could hear his every word. "I've never seen her, like, ever."

    "She's sitting right there, dipshit," John B shifted his eyes to me in the mirror again, causing me to look up. "She can hear you."

    "I don't care, bro," his friend said, but it sounded like a shout over the rain. "We don't have time for this, I gotta get home!" he sighed out.

    "I agree with your friend," I spoke up, my voice loud. I was looking at John B in the mirror. "Just drop me off here, I'll be fine."

He scoffed.

    "See, dude, even the girl agrees," Pope glanced to me for a split second, as I stared at both of them from the back of the van.

    "You both," The Routledge kid pressed on the gas, moving the vehicle forward, "have no souls."

    The van began to drive against the wind, slowly but surely. I sat quietly, criss-crossed on the soggy carpet from the rain water dripping off my clothes.

    "So, what's your real name, Cherry Cola?" John B asked after a moment, shouting loud. The rain was hitting hard on the front window, and the thin rickety wipers didn't perform well, making it hard for him to see. But, I assumed, for some reason, that he knew where we were going.