Dark Places

☽ | october 31, 2015

❝who you supposed to be?
are you dressed just like my love
for halloween?❞

☽

October 31, 2015

"AY, ¿DÓNDE ESTÁS?" I clutch the phone to my ear as I saunter across the dark porch, down the steps, and into the brittle October chill, shivering uncontrollably. I'm four body shots in, and I still can't find him. I'm drunk, cold, horny, and pissed at him, and it's a dangerous combination. "I've been looking for you, cabrón."

His hoarse cough tugs, tugs, tugs at a chord in my body. "Ah, fuck, I'm coming, I am," he rasps, low and thick, as if just waking up. I'm surprised I didn't get his voicemail. "I just... I got sidetracked, but I'll be there soon, okay?"

"Drake..."

"I'm on my way now, te prometo, Melo." He pauses, and I gnaw on my bottom lip, gauging his lingering trepidation. "I... uh..." His voice is ragged, thick, gravelly. "Me muero de ganas de verte."

I roll my eyes, tugging at the hem of my stupid, pleated skirt. I'd only come for him. "I didn't dress up, papi."

"It's all good, I didn't either." Drake coughs again, and I hear him shift and still, kickstart his Volvo into a sputtering echo. Great. Realistically, when I called, Medina was in the Whole Foods parking lot in Bayside, crashing in his backseat, but I don't want to deal with his bullshit lies tonight. "Hey, did..." I stiffen, humming for him to continue. "Did Tyler say anything to you?"

"No." I tuck my chin and glare at my feet as I wander around a corner of the porch into a dark, narrow space beside the two-story house. Drake is cursing under his breath, pulling into traffic, but I'm alone, dragging myself through dewy grass slowly, slowly, slowly, for privacy between the thicket of bushes and a rigid, wooden fence. "No, I..."

I didn't come for Tyler. I came for Drake, to see him, to surprise him, to... well, fuck him.

"I'm not with Tyler," I say quietly. "I'm outside... alone, actually."

Drake sighs. "Well, you shouldn't be alone, princesita."

"Well, I thought I'd be with you."

"I'm five minutes away, Luz. I'll be there."

Yeah, five minutes turns into fifteen, twenty, thirty, simmering a silent rage beneath my skin. I lean against the fence, silhouetted in a shadowy safety, and survey the street from my vantage point, impatiently waiting for his headlights to shine through the misty darkness. Tyler's front lawn is empty. Goosebumps rise across my bare thighs and bare shoulders. It's October, and I'm cold, shivering in his jacket, a tight, cropped top, and fucking miniskirt... for... Drake Medina, who can't even be bothered to show the fuck up.

Ugh. Why? ¿Qué hago?

It's not worth it. Drake isn't worth it.

Deflating, I kick off the fence and sulk out of the silky shadows. It was supposed to be as simple as béisbol: one, two, three strikes, and I kick Medina to the curb. Yet, I'm here, and Drake is wasting another Saturday night, another Halloween, ditching me for H.

I give up.

"Drake," I grumble, following a bundle of bushes as I trudge toward the backyar—

"Pssst."

His hard body slams into me, and I buckle in surprise, twisting, into his arms, letting Drake Medina tackle me to the ground less than gracefully.