Spencer Reid, Sunny Hill, and Y/N Y/L/N are three teenagers entering their senior year of High School. They're party attendees, marijuana smokers, teenagers who were sure to make the best out of High School. Y/N has been apart of this friend group s...
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"Stuff it in your mouth," you tell Spencer, who's taking out a triangular slice of a sandwich you brought. Spencer brings the slice up to his mouth and you stuff it inside, earning laughter from the both of you.
"God," Spencer shouts through the moans and gargles, "don't do that Y/N you're gonna kill me."
You shove him back but he doesn't budge, which only makes you eager to do it again. He bites down on the sandwich then takes it and places the uneaten yet smashed part onto the plate next to him. He takes the water bottle next to him and unscrews the top, taking a long gulp.
He winces then twists the cap back on, throwing it to the side. It definitely isn't water. "Vodka?" you ask to make sure. He nods and grabs the bottle, handing it to you. You nod and unscrew the top, swallowing the warm liquid. You wince, the liquid burning your throat and disturbing your insides.
"After a summer of drinking you would think you're better at hiding all that," Spencer tells you, grabbing the sandwich and taking a bite out of it.
Your eyebrows turn down, taken aback by the assumption. "What made you think I spent all summer drinking? You were in Las Vegas playing chess."
He rolls his eyes, his boyband hair covering his right eye. He notices and lifts his hand, swiping away the hair. "I visited my dad and it was awful, so please don't ask about the details."
You turn and grab a lemonade from the small basket you brought. Spencer has taken one already, gulping it down in an instant. Now you have one left, reserved for Sunny. Sunny Hill. Sunny Hill is an eighteen-year-old teenage boy who was held back a year in third grade. He was placed in Miss Richard's third grade class; the same one you were in with Spencer. You all got along well that Monday afternoon at recess and ever since, you have been glued together.
Sunny is considered cool, shades on, leather jacket kind of cool except he has no leather jacket, only jet-black shades. He has smooth hair, sometimes curly, sometimes straight, but he always attempts slicking it back. It obviously doesn't work, so you mess it up for him.
Spencer pushes aside his bag and chips and lies down on the plaid blanket, his hands reaching for his sunglasses. He slides them onto his face then tucks his hands underneath his head, letting out a heavy sigh.
Spencer has been away for the summer at his dad's and you've been left alone, essentially. Sunny has been working at the guitar shop and your sister- Penelope- has been out with her friends Emily and Derek. "No time, sweetheart. You gotta' learn how to live on your own," she would tell you every day she went out.
You kept in contact with Spencer the entire summer, but he began distancing himself just a tad bit. You didn't think anything of it in the beginning because he was with his father, doing father and son things, but then you started thinking deeper. Perhaps you were overthinking, but Spencer always kept in close contact with you, even when he was away at Las Vegas.
