WEST COAST 18+

32.

ANOTHER ONE???

W E S T CO A S T

Ashton walked around, coughing into his fist. "Go on somewhere before I get sick!" Daniela screams, swatting him away with the duster in her hand.

Ashton sneezes with all the particles blowing around. "Did you get the cold medicine Mommy sent you?" he asks, all groggy, sniffling. The fake cold he gave himself weeks ago to avoid going to school, sure enough, hit him today. Vivian stayed home to take care of him yesterday and made him see a doctor earlier today, Daniela taking over so their mother wouldn't miss another shift.

"It's in the cabinet," she leaned away from him, inching back from the TV stand. "Go in your room; I'll toss it in there."

"I could get it. I'm right here by the kitchen."

"Don't irritate me right now. You're gonna touch everything and contaminate it with your germs. Scram. I got it." Daniela hated being sick—the stuffy nose, sore throat, and stomach aches. It was a bitch.

Ashton dragged his feet on out, Daniela hoping she doesn't walk into his sick particles on her way to grab him the bottle. She made her way into his contaminated space, seeing him squeeze on a juice pouch, not even recognizing it was hers at first. "Here, shitface," tossing the bottle on his bed.

"Ow, that hit my toe," Ashton groans.

"Stop being a big baby," she toots her face at him. Catching the Capri Sun fly onto his floor after he tossed it, Daniela snaps her neck, "Ashton, I know that ain't my shit."

"No," he lets out mid-cough.

Daniela licked her lips, balling her fists. "It's taking everything in me not to slap you upside the head." But on second thought, "fuck that." Ashton shouted as she charged over to him, knocking him upside his head with light taps of her fingertips.

"Daniela, please I'm sick!" Ashton blocked his face.

"You always stealing my shit!" she whacks him one more time before crawling off his bed. "I can't have nothing."

Ashton smirked, grabbing a tissue to blow his nose. "It was so good."

"You ain't gon' have no taste with my foot in yo mouth," Daniela threatens, slamming his door, which rang in his throbbing ears.

Enrique was walking up Daniela's porch with Berto, pressing on the doorbell to get someone's attention. He was here earlier, but seeing him back so soon, Daniela was shocked when opening the front door.

"What are you doing here?" Daniela asks with her eyes bouncing from Enrique to Berto and then back to him.

"You ain't see my text?" Enrique asks, walking in like he owned the place.

Berto followed in, Daniela eyeing them. "No. I was busy whooping Ashton's ass," and stopping the cool air from exiting the house by closing them in; she asks, "You not staying for long?"

"Nah. I got some moves to make. I left something here, though," Enrique replies, turning to face her.

"Your drugs? I told you not to leave that at my house." He never did, but she had to let him know beforehand.

"It ain't drugs. Relax," Enrique says, halting her assumptions. "It's just some papers." 

"I thought I gave them to you. Enrique, you might have dementia."

"What do you think happened that made me put em' down and forget?" Enrique asks, Daniela blushing while Berto's eyes widen off to the side. It was a pretty damn good reason he didn't grab the papers on his way out the second time. "Where they at now?"