amsterdam ( central cee )

3

My socks are wet, I hate that feeling. I shove my hands in the pockets of my parka and force speed on my tired feet, in a feeling of racing infinitely against time. I check my phone for the time and shiver, I'm late. I hope he didn't leave yet thinking I wasn't going to show up.

The rain hits my face and I hide it in the collar of my jacket. It reeks of cigarettes and beer, the pub lingering on me leaving a prominent memory.

The fluorescent lights of the convenience shop come into few, it's a little hard to see but as far as I can tell, the usual lingering pest isn't standing out front. I don't see the mystery guy nor a car that he would be in.

For a moment I stand still, protected by the roof of the shop from the pouring rain. I hesitate.

Should I just go home?

Who am I kidding? of course he's not gonna show up. He probably thought I was a cop. And I admit this is a very weird and dangerous situation I've tangled myself in.

Suddenly I feel stupid. Stupid for asking a complete stranger for weed. What must he think of me? That I'm so lowlife stoner girl who smokes pot all day.

I shove my hands in my pockets again and begin walking away. Headlights blast behind me. I hesitate again.
I turn around and a silhouette steps out. He has his hood up, and parka over his mouth. I recognize his height and posture so I stop walking.

All oxygen is stolen out of the air when he motions for me to come closer.
I hesitate again and I think it's visible. He comes closer.

"Come on now! Ya trying to get me soaked or somethin'?" I feel pressured, this is stupid. So incredibly goddamn stupid and I know this, yet my feet are walking toward him.

I pop my headphones out shakily, he's holding the door open while the person in the car kills the headlights.

I'm definitely getting kidnapped right now.

A thrill winds through me, tracing the width of my spine like a wet tongue tracing it. The light in the car flashes on, revealing a similar-looking boy. The mystery guy opens the door for me, signaling for me to get in.

Why am I being so stupid? I wonder. Why are my feet walking toward him?

I think he realizes my distrust when I suddenly stop walking like my body is protecting me from my brain. My stupid brain actually thought about getting in that damn car.

He walks toward me and it's like the rain avoids him, he's too good to be rained on. He's gleaming in a way, like the ground he walks on is owned by him.

He swooshes his bag to the front of his body and zips it open. I do the same, pulling out a crumbled twenty-pound bill.

"Here you go." Hearing him talk is somehow weird. There's a tinge of raspiness in his voice, it's unmissable and weighs on his vocal cords. When I try to give him the money he refuses. I look at the bag of weed and shake my head. This has definitely two joints in it.

"Take the money please," I insist, sounding much weaker than I wanted to.

"Nah you're good."

"No, I'm not. Take. The. Money." I shove the weed back toward him, along with the money.

"I said. I. Don't. Need. It."

We stand in front of each other not moving as our hands were extended.

"Look I'm not gonna suck your dick or something if that's what you're thinking."

His eyes went wider, brows jumping up. He laughs and shakes his head, and the boy in the car begins to erupt in loud laughter as well, the sound making me feel humiliated.