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s o n g s : affection, teenage fever
Driving with Dakota at the wheel was always a wild ride. It was like surrendering control to chaos, hurtling through the city streets as if we owned the road. My fingers clung to the safety buckles, and my phone was practically glued to my hand, eyes fixated on the screen ticking away seconds.
"He's probably just chilling in the park, smoking some weed or something," Dakota reassured me, driving with one hand and cradling her iced coffee in the other. Her eyes were on me, not the road. "Relax, Kov."
I rubbed my forehead, urging her to focus. "Please, pay attention to the road." Logan, my brother, had ditched school again, opting for who-knows-what adventures.
"He's likely out there cracking jokes, being a typical teen," Dakota continued, undeterred. She turned up the music, rolled down the window, and turned to me, flashing a grin. "Some fresh air for the passenger princess, what do you think, Kova?" I nodded, and with a click, she rolled down my window.
"He acts like he's straight out of Outer Banks or something," I grumbled, frustration tapping at my feet.
Dakota chuckled, nonchalantly sipping her coffee. "He's just goofing around. You were the same at his age."
"That's the problem. He's worse," I sighed, images of Logan's reckless escapades flooding my mind. "He disappeared for three days, on a ship of all places. What the hell, Dakota?"
"He apologized, didn't he?" Dakota tried to pacify me, but I shot her an angry glare.
"Apologies won't undo whatever trouble he's gotten into," I snapped. Byron Bay, a dream city in summer but a personal playground for Logan and his friends. Trouble had a knack for finding him.
The playground loomed ahead, and I steeled myself to confront Logan and his crew. How dare I care for him? Despite our shared loss of parents, he refused to accept any guidance. I'd offered coping mechanisms, but he shrugged them off, diving into one reckless adventure after another. Surprisingly, I was still labeled his caretaker after the countless shenanigans he'd pulled.
"We're here," Dakota chirped, and I leaned back for a moment to ease my nerves. "If he's not at the playground, he's probably at the beach. Damn it, we should have gone there first," I mumbled, and Dakota handed me her iced coffee, squeezing my arm. "Take a sip, take a breath, then check the playground. If he's not there, we'll drive to the beach. It's as easy as that," she reassured me with a nod, and it worked - at least a little. I took a sip, the cold instantly calming my nerves.
Unbuckling my seatbelt, I stepped out of the old turquoise truck. I scanned the area around the playground near the beach, more of a teen hangout than a child's play area. It appeared empty, or so I thought until Logan's voice cut through the air. There he was, hand on his friend's shoulder, probably gearing them up for their next escapade. Three girls sat beside them, smoking and laughing.
Not as dangerous as my imagination painted it. Relief washed over me, albeit just a tiny bit. They hadn't noticed me until I crossed my arms and cleared my throat. Logan turned towards me with raised brows, forcing a smile. "Kova," he spoke, approaching me with open arms. "What are you doing here?" All eyes were on us, and those teens seemed like they could be the end of me. "What do you think?" I replied, staring at him coldly. He chuckled lightly, leading me away from the group. "I was just about to go to school, really," he tried to talk his way out of it, but his eyes betrayed him.
Grabbing his jaw, I made him look directly into my eyes, scanning him. Red. Red all over. "How much did you smoke?" I asked sternly, and he pushed me away slightly. "You know I smoke; I don't get why I have to answer that," he replied, words slurred. "School called. Keep this up, and the consequences will catch you quicker than you fucking expect," I warned, but he just rolled his eyes.
He looked down, running his hand through his hair and sighed in frustration. "I may have skipped school-" he spoke nonchalantly, "-to smoke weed." I cut him off, and he put his hands up in defense. "Hey, better than sitting there higher than ever."
I crinkled my nose in annoyance, pointing at the truck Dakota and I had driven in. "Get in; we're going home," I said firmly, irking myself with how much I sounded like Mother. Mother and Father weren't rich. Living by the beach was nice, but it left us with almost no money. Instead of arguing, he just scoffed, waved goodbye to his friends, and sauntered off. I leaned forward, glancing at his friends, and couldn't help but chuckle in annoyance. Were these people ruining him, or was he ruining them? Either way, they were toxic for each other. I followed him shortly after, taking my seat in the passenger seat once more, and Dakota looked at us awkwardly.
Maybe I didn't react properly, but what else could I do? He's not my son; he's not mine. As his sister, it's not my job to scream at him for whatever nonsense he pulls. Hell, it was never my job.
"You found him," Dakota said lightly, smiling softly at him before focusing on the road and driving off. "Yeah, I found his grounded ass," I emphasized the word, glancing at him through the rearview mirror, only to catch him rolling his eye.
-☆-
"What the hell were you thinking?" I demanded as we entered the house, watching Logan casually drop his bag onto the couch. He was giving me the cold shoulder, as if it was somehow my fault he decided to skip school and indulge in some weed. "Logan, we're not done here," I pressed, but he ignored me, heading towards the kitchen to grab a glass of water, downing it like nothing happened. "Hey! Look at me, dammit!" I raised my voice, approaching him and slamming my hands on the kitchen counter to grab his attention.
He met my gaze with drowsy eyes, showing no sign of remorse- he didn't care. "What do you want me to say, huh?" he retorted, raising his voice in defiance. "I'm sorry? I'm sorry for living a life? I'm sorry for trying to forget?" he argued, and I just looked away.
"I'm not blaming you for wanting to forget, for fuck's sake. Logan, you're putting yourself in fucking danger, don't you get it?" I yelled, attempting to reason with his seemingly clouded mind. "God, Logan, you put yourself in so much danger, and you're not even aware of that bullshit." I tried to lower my tone, knowing that yelling wouldn't get through to him.
He remained silent, staring at me like a stranger. "I know what I'm doing," he replied simply, strolling towards the porch. "I know very well what I'm doing," he added, grabbing his earphones that were left on the porch before walking back in. And, of course, I followed him. "If you know, then why do you do these things? What's with the reckless thinking, huh?"
"Don't you have a job to audition for or whatever," he dismissed me tiredly, connecting the earphones to his phone and putting them on. "What the fuck did you say?" I spoke in frustration, but he waved me off with his hands and retreated to his room, slamming the door shut and locking it-of course. "Logan! You-" Instead of finishing, I let out a groan and turned on my heels, slamming the door to my room shut as well.
