Christian Westbrook, an emotionless seventeen-year-old who is far too mature for his age, is trapped in a life with his aunt and uncle. It was never his intention, but he didn't have an option. His life has been irreparably altered, and he longs for...
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(LAY WITH ME)
After dinner the guys had gone down in the basement which is basically a mancave. He has a pool table in the middle of the room. The room that's basically as big as the rest of the house.
The room is a bright white but when he turns off the lights, neon lights kick in covering everything in a light blue tint.
The walls are small brown bricks that gives the basement its modern look. There's a L shaped couch to the side of the room where a TV is mounted on the wall, I notice he has a console nearby.
There's a few painting and photos of him and his family on the wall. Opposite the couch, directly across the room is basically a bar.
There's a ton of liquor on the wall behind the bar, there's a fridge and white marvel countertops which has a tap close by.
"Want a drink?" Dave asks, as he washes his hands.
"Yeah, nothing too heavy, I'm driving," I tell him and he nods before wiping his hands into a kitchen towel.
"I'll just mix something light," he says.
"Put the alcohol you'd give him in my drink," Liam says.
Dave laughs slightly as he makes his way to the fridge, where he gets ice and a few sodas to mix.
He takes a bottle of vodka off the wall, while Liam and I head to the couch where we take a seat.
"I'm gonna wipe your ass in some games," Liam says handing one of the controllers before taking one for himself.
After a few games, Liam did indeed beat my ass in the games but I told him we'd have a rematch when we get back to the hotel since he literally packed his console in his suitcase.
The drinks Dave had mixed us, were seated neatly on the table the same way he had placed them since both of us were too engulfed in the game to drink anything.
More of Dave's friends came and some of them were playing pool when a blonde haired boy took a seat next to us on the couch.
I lean forward to take up the drink when I take a sip, and to my surprise it's actually nice.
"I'm guessing neither of you baby faces have a light," he says, waving around his make shift cigarette.
It's a blunt, more than definitely rolled up with weed. I grab the lighter out of pocket and light the end of it.
