EIGHTEEN || SEVENTEEN spin off ||

Chapter Twelve || Patterns

As her head lay gently against my chest, a myriad of emotions and thoughts swirled within me. Her presence felt like a soothing balm to the chaos of the world, and the rhythmic rise and fall of her breathing seemed to synchronize with the beating of my heart. Her fingers traced intricate patterns on my stomach, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. In that intimate moment, it was as if time had paused, allowing us to exist in our own little bubble of tranquility.

A soft, rhythmic knock on the door roused us from our reverie. With a grin playing on my lips, I called out, "Come in," the sound of my own voice mingling with the soft rustle of Nat's hair as my fingers absentmindedly tangled in its strands. The door creaked open, revealing Van's mischievous face peering into the room. Her eyes twinkled with amusement as she quipped, "God, who knew Nat was such a softie?" Nat simply rolled her eyes, choosing not to dignify the comment with a response.

Van's sudden proposition shifted the energy in the room, injecting an air of excitement into the atmosphere. "Wanna come to a party?" she asked, her voice laden with anticipation. Memories of the past party, a mixture of laughter, music, and then the kiss, flashed through my mind. I hesitated momentarily, my mind warring between caution and the allure of the unknown.

It was then that Van's outstretched arm caught my attention, and my gaze was drawn to the bag of weed she held in her hand. The sight of it was like a key turning in a lock, releasing a flood of forgotten memories and casting a spell that made the past seem distant and inconsequential.

"I'll go if Nat does," I responded, my voice a blend of curiosity and resolve. Nat, sensing the shift in the conversation, lifted her head from my chest and met my gaze. "Sure," she replied, her eyes holding a mixture of agreement and a hint of intrigue. Our unspoken connection seemed to strengthen in that moment, as if we were embarking on a shared journey into the unknown.

With a newfound sense of purpose, Nat and I extricated ourselves from the cocoon of my bed. The cool night air greeted us as we followed Van outside, the dim light of the moon casting long shadows on the ground. There was an electric energy in the air, a feeling of anticipation that crackled like static electricity.

We piled into Tai's car, the engine coming to life with a soft purr. As we drove through the night, the world outside seemed to blur into a tapestry of lights and shadows. Conversations flowed freely within the car, laughter and anecdotes intermingling with the soft hum of the engine.

~

Stepping out of the car, the transition from the confines of the vehicle to the open expanse of the gathering is like crossing into a new realm altogether. Van's eyes light up as if she's discovered a treasure trove, and her sheer enthusiasm is infectious, spreading like wildfire through the air. It's as if her excitement ignites a spark within each of us, coaxing us to partake in the adventure that awaits.

With a knowing grin, I grasp Nat's hand, our fingers intertwining with a sense of familiarity that transcends words. It's a gesture that speaks volumes, a silent affirmation that we're united in this experience, ready to dive headfirst into the unknown together. Walking in the wake of Tai and Van, the path before us seems to unfold like a tapestry woven with the threads of curiosity and anticipation.

Arriving at the heart of the gathering, the bonfire becomes the centerpiece of a vibrant, pulsating scene. The flames dance with a captivating rhythm, casting an enchanting glow that paints everything in hues of warmth and camaraderie. I lean against a sturdy tree, feeling the rough texture of the bark against my back as I absorb the sensory symphony playing out before me.

As the fire's tendrils of smoke curl upward, I can't help but be entranced by the sight. Each wisp seems to carry a fragment of stories untold, whispered secrets, and unspoken dreams. It's a visual metaphor for the complexity of the human experience, a reminder that even in moments of lightheartedness, there's a depth waiting to be explored.

Van and Nat settle down near a weathered tree stump, and their shared task of rolling joints becomes a ritualistic dance, a choreography of fingers and paper that binds them together in unity. Van's playful insistence on rationing their precious resource injects a note of levity, a reminder that practicality and indulgence can coexist in harmony.

With a gentle touch, Nat coaxes the first joint to life, its ember glowing like a secret gem in the darkness. A sense of purpose envelops her as she takes a measured inhalation, the tendrils of smoke intertwining with her exhale as if releasing fragments of her own thoughts and worries into the night.

She approaches me, her eyes a dance of mischief and invitation. Placing the joint between my lips, she beckons me to partake, to join her in this shared communion with the universe. I inhale deeply, feeling the essence of the weed permeate my senses, a bridge between the physical and the ethereal.

My eyes roam the vicinity, landing upon a face that triggers a surge of resentment within me. There she stands, a haunting reminder of a past encounter that I'd much rather forget — the very girl who audaciously kissed Nat at the last wretched party.

In the midst of the festivities, her gaze is fixed upon us like a malevolent specter, her presence an unwelcome intrusion on this already tainted night. Her audacity to disrupt our lives with her brazen actions gnaws at me, a visceral reminder of the chaos she introduced into our world.

I can practically taste the bitterness as memories of that kiss resurface, a bitter concoction of anger and betrayal that twists my gut into knots. In her eyes, I see a reflection of the turmoil she stirred, a cruel testament to her ability to sow discord and chaos with a mere touch of her lips.