ACID RAIN // DNF AU

Chapter One (George)

They were listening to the radio in Clay's car as the sun sank below the horizon, the air conditioner on high to battle the Floridian heat. George was scrolling through his phone, but he didn't absorb any of the words on his screen. Instead, he was sneaking glances at his best friend's face, making them quick because he knew he looked heartsick. He couldn't seem to look away, even when he tried. His eyes darted over the pieces that made him Clay, breaking them down into a more manageable form.

Green-apple crystalline eyes, fixated on the road but occasionally darting to the side mirrors. Perfectly arranged, soft blonde hair, cropped close at the sides but longer in the front so that it fell forward onto gently curved brows. Clay had skin a shade more golden than his own, a finely cut jaw, and a bright mouth that always curved into a half-smile. That serious expression barely concealed all his joy and playfulness. His beauty was youthful and hard-hitting every time. Isolating his features didn't make them any less dangerous.

The wind rushed through the slivers of space made by the windows, which were barely cracked open. The noise of the rushing air almost drowned out the singer's voice.

Remember when we first met? / You said "light my cigarette" / So I lied to my mom and dad / I jumped the fence and I ran / But we couldn't go very far / 'Cause you locked your keys in your car / So you sat and stared at my lips / And I could already feel your kiss / Long nights, daydreams / Sugar and smoke rings, I've been a fool / But strawberries and cigarettes always taste like you / Headlights, on me / Racing to 60, I've been a fool / But strawberries and cigarettes always taste like / Blue eyes, black jeans / Lighters and candy, I've been a fool / But strawberries and cigarettes always taste like you

Clay shut the engine off, killing the music, as they pulled over and parked. "We're here," he announced unnecessarily, turning his phone off.

The lyrics of the song weighed heavy on George, and he was slow to undo his seatbelt and push open the car door. It had been a cool day for Florida, and they were wearing jeans instead of shorts. He stared up at the beautiful modern mansion on the hill, Clay already making his way up the driveway. Light spilled out of several of its glass windows and faint music came from the backyard patio, where he saw several people in a large pool and others reclining on the deck.

"George! Come on," he teased, turning back over his shoulder to face him. "Quit being slow."

He hadn't wanted to come to this party, but Clay had insisted. It was supposed to be to celebrate his arrival in Florida—a friend of Clay's was throwing a party only a day after it, and she had invited both of them. Clay had convinced him by saying that the only other option would be to have their own party at his house, and he had opted out of that very quickly, so here he was.

He picked up his pace, catching up. Clay opened the door without knocking, having heard voices through it.

They were greeted with a crowd of people who weren't paying attention to them. Clay looked around and dragged him through the house, out to the back patio, where they almost crashed into a trio of girls.

Clay gave them a small sheepish but practiced smile, like an Oh-I'm-so-sorry-what-can-I-do-to-make-it-up-to-you? Revulsion and venom and something else surged up in George's gut, sloshing around inside him unpleasantly.

The tallest girl, who was nearly George's height in her heels, did a double-take and smiled widely. "Clay! How are you?" She had a perfect tan, shiny blonde-ish hair, and curves for days. Of course she knew him.

"It's great to see you, Tasha!" The greeting seemed heartfelt, and his lips pulled into a frown against his will. "This is my friend, George."

"Hi," he greeted her, voice dull and devoid of emotion.