Gonna Get 'Cha!

Chapter Nine: "All About Peer Pressures"

 Celia decided to call it a night on rendezvous night even after my persistent ways of making her stay. After her story that she sprung on me, I'd understand her needing to stay away from Jake or Logan or the other group crew themselves. Though Jake wouldn't stop badgering me about Celia—telling me all sorts of things how we both looked cute together if we just finally revealed ourselves to each other. Was he seriously that clueless?

The backseat was filled with carton of eggs piled up that I'd have to sit in the small space and prayed that some wouldn't fall onto me whenever Jake would hit speed bump on the road. Tate McRae thumped through the speakers below the seats—my request—after begging Jake that I'd had enough listening to his 2000s fever and time to switch it up. He rolled his eyes, going on a rant about how the music during that era shaped the whole industry, being the culture of "girly icon". I told him, "You weren't wrong. But I need something else." he obliged before shoving "alright one song" down my throat—which I'd take in with great pleasure since it was his car, after all.

"Can you, please, drive a little slower?" I said through gritted teeth and held onto one carton that'd just fallen out with the seal almost opened ajar, rearranging the whole stack as I went, looking over the rearview mirror.

"This is slow." Jake arched his brows, throwing me a look of disdain as he accepted a sunscreen from Logan after Logan told him about how sunscreen was just as important as it was during the night time when he told Logan that he hadn't worn any. With his other hand on the steering wheel, he applied and dabbed some on his face with the other.

Logan turned around, smirking at me. "Were you more fun with Celia around or what?" He asked.

"Don't you get bored?" I fired. Resting my elbow on top of the carton to keep them at bay, I scrolled through my phone and stumbled on what seemed like yet another drama about girl's outfits to college which somehow steered into a discourse. "Teasing me about it, I mean." I added.

"But it's so fun." Logan mocked dryly. Nudging Jake's shoulder, he waved his phone before Jake's face. "Right there. His house is right there. God, I knew he was rich." He sneered, the car turned a corner leading to the suburbs neighborhood where you'd have to roll your windows down and smile at the security guard.

Staring through the window over the similar looking houses along the way, one that I'd grown so fond of because it was the one I lived in for most of my life, I hummed to the song until the car came to an abrupt stop in front of a house that I was familiar with. Jake turned off the engine and turned around, motioning over the stack of egg cartons. "Okay, so here's the plan."

We each carried two egg cartons and threw one at a time—in turns—then the other would notify if someone in the house was alerted and caught us. That someone would be me, after their careful consideration, they thought I was fitting for a lookout. Logan also kept repeating over how egg-throwing would heal his previous trauma, "I need to do this, Jake, this is my battle." which both of us agreed. Though I still had no idea what trauma Logan was even babbling about.

"All clear?" The two boys darted their eyes in my direction, I nodded in reply, scanning around the place for a man in uniform who might linger. Logan threw the first shot, the smack sound against the window of a bedroom on the second floor was faint in our far-fetched distance.

"That's it?" I screamed a little too loud that Logan shot me a glare as I continued my sentence in a lower register. "Your revenge for this person is to throw eggs?" The breeze went through my hair, throwing a few strands on my face as I swiped them away, sighing out a grunt along the way.

"Honey, please." Logan looked down on me, pursing his lips to form into a pout. "We've barely started." He winked at me and walked past me which left a hint of that overrated vanilla scent from Victoria's Secret linger in the air around him. Pulling up a stack of carton eggs to his chest, Jake ran to his side, unloading a few of his friend's baggage and taking them in as his own.