I'd Kill You First: when bad meets bad

Chap. 11

SODA:

Headlights shone over the top of the hill, signaling my brother's arrival. I should have been jumping for joy, but I hadn't seen Trace in person in over six months, and a lot of things had changed since then. I was more dreading this encounter than anything.

"What the hell!" He yelled, getting a gas can out of the trunk of his old blue Ford truck. "Soda, where did you get this car?! This is a freaking 2013 Camaro, Soda! Did you steal it?"

I stared at him in disbelief. "What? No! It's mine, legally. Just because I'm doing better than you doesn't mean I'm a criminal!"

I realized how ironic my words were since I actually was one.

"But how could you even afford the sell rate for this car?" he asked, looking at my car like it might speak to him itself.

"That's not your business," I said through clenched teeth.

"Wait, your name is Soda?"

We both turned our heads to see a very disoriented Keenon leaning halfway out the backseat, staring at me with bloodshot eyes.

"What the mess! Pass out again, you idiot!" I yell, slamming the door on him.

"Who the hell is that?!" Trace yelped, going over to Keenon's side and looking in.

"That's no one, trust me-"

"Actually," Keenon interrupted, managing to somehow roll down the window, "I'm her lover, Keenon Baden. She screams my name every night-"

"Keenon! Shut it!" I turned to Trace. "You! Just give me the gas and leave."

"Rev rev," Keenon called out the window, actually giggling as he patted the side of the car.

Trace and I stood and looked at him for a minute until Trace turned to me and pointed at Keenon.

"I'm not leaving until I know why you have that idiot in your car."

"My life isn't your business," I spat, glaring at him. "Give me the gas can or you can forget about me seeing dad."

"Oh boy, gotta go meet daddy," Keenon practically sang, waving his hand at absolutely nothing.

"Keenon, shush!"

"Fine," Trace muttered, handing me the red gallon can. "But this conversation isn't over."

He glared at me one last time before getting in his truck and spitting rocks as he squealed away. I rolled my eyes at his dramatics and looked back at Keenon, suddenly very tired.

He had his chin propped up on the open window space, staring at me with a goofy grin. "Your name is Soda? Like, Soda Pop? Coca cola?"

"Oh you are so annoying! Why did your mother birth you?" I seethe, filling up my tank.

"Uh, 'cause even she wanted me in her vagina," he stated proudly with his index finger held in the air.

I stared at him in silence, not believing this was the same silent type bad boy that I had been forced to live with for the past week.

"You are unbelievable," I muttered, rubbing my temples.

"Uuuuuunbelievably ssseexxyy!" He yelled.

"Why does the world hate me?" I moaned, hitting my head against the side of the car while my tank filled as slowly as possible.

"Maybe because-"

"Shut it, Keenon, it's rhetorical."

"You're rhetorical," he shouted, followed by a 'oooooohhh'.

I cursed my existence as I put the empty can in my trunk and got back in my seat, clenching my fists around the steering wheel. Keenon's butt was suddenly thrown right in my face as he hurled himself over the console and sat in my passenger seat.

"What the heck, Keenon! I thought you were already passed the pass out stage. Why are you still awake?"

"I come with energy bursts. That's why I'm so good in bed," he stated matter-of-factly.

I groaned and shook my head slowly back and forth while turning the car around.

"Why did you-" he hiccuped before continuing, "turn around?"

"I missed my meeting," I ground out through my teeth.

"What meeting? Where are we going now?" He asked, looking wildly back and forth from the road ahead to behind us.

"Back to the party. Now Keenon, please, be quiet and try to go to sleep, okay? Please," I practically begged.

He looked at me for a minute and said, "Are you stressed, Coca Cola? A little frazzled, Dr. Pepper?"

I glared at him. "That's not my name."

"Your name is Soda," he stated, pointing at me, "So that means your name is also every name of every soda."

"No it doesn't."

"Yes, it does."

"Doesn't."

"Does."

"Does."

"Doesn't."

"Ha!" I yelped, "You agree with me, now shut up."

He scowled at me and crossed his arms in a literal pout. "You cheated."

"What are you, five? Stop pouting, you look stupid."

He looked at me with his mouth open and sat upright. "You are so rude! Why do you have to be so attractive?"

I chuckled at him. "First of all, that has nothing to do with anything. Second of all, I'm rude because you bring out the worst in me."

"You make me want to do bad things to you," he said in a low rumble.

I raised my brows at him. "Is that so?"

"Yeah," he said in a whispery, happy voice. "It's kinda...hot."

"Well, since you won't remember this tomorrow, I would let you do bad things to me."

His eyes snapped to my face, a heated look in them. "Really?"

I shrugged, not willing to say it again.

He stared at me for a minute, then his eyes went wide and he threw himself against his car door. "Oh my gosh! Who are you and where have you put me?"

I stared at him in amusement. "Seriously dude, how much did you drink?"

He calmed down immediately and leaned back a bit. "Oh, it's just you, Rootbeer. Uh, I don't know exactly, but I had a little weed too. I really don't feel so good."

"My threat stands. If you puke in here, you will eat it."

He swallowed hard and clamped a hand over his mouth, eyes squeezed shut.

I laughed quietly and leaned over to pat his head. "Good boy."