DAYSLEEPER |

01 | deliquent

"Have another drink get lost in us, this is how we get notorious."

LORDE | PERFECT PLACES

• • •

On Wednesdays, they smoked weed.

Jesse Raelynn's house was always available on Wednesdays because his parents worked a handful of hours overtime. For the delinquents of Acacia Bay, there was nothing sweeter than a jackpot of illegal substances.

The event was equivalent to a weekly after-school program if you could call it that.

"Jesus-fucking-Christ. How deep is your damn purse?" Sage Asher scolded, as she watched her best friend, Eden Ivy, carelessly search the pockets and secret compartments of her dark leather brown messenger bag. "We've been standing out here for like ten minutes already, and you know lots of shit happens in ten minutes of a party."

"Actually, we've only been out here for two minutes; you're just super impatient. Oh, and this is a satchel," Eden said matter-of-factly. Sage shrugged her off and resumed tapping her foot melodramatically.

"I remember putting it in here," Eden muttered to herself, ignoring the short redhead's apparent attempts to rush her. Sage was blessed with the intuition of knowing when Eden lost something. It only came with the perks of having a best friend attached to your hip.

Jesse Raelynn's best friend, Braeden, created some kind of secret passcode for guests who chose to join in on their getaway. Braeden simply found amusement in coding random passwords, even though this method was beyond childish. It's not like Braeden didn't know Eden well, they practically grew up together walking their dogs, but he refused to let anyone in without a code—no exceptions.

"Check your pockets. It's probably in there knowing your forgetful ass." Sage gestured at Eden's tattered light-blue jeans, which were ripped at the knees and probably on their last thread.

Eden handed her satchel over and checked her back pockets, shaking the dark brown wisps of long hair from away from her eyes. Her fingers dipped into the right pocket, and she grinned at the feel of wrinkled paper between her fingertips.

Sage's eyes have always been a pretty color. They were swirls of soft grass and mint leaves, but if they could kill, she'd be digging up Eden's grave right now. With a short, derisive laugh at how stupid Eden felt while looking for the damn sheet of paper, finally, after standing in front of Jesse Raelynn's threshold for what seemed to be a century, the two girls sashayed up to the paved doorsteps, and Sage knocked on the cherry-wood door eagerly.

A familiar voice answered from the other side. "Who is it?" Braeden's baritone but the somewhat chirpy voice was one of his most distinctive traits. Emphasis on one. Braeden's eccentric personality and being ever so strangely sarcastic was one of the many reasons he was an easy invite to any event and a communal friend.

"It's Sage and Eden," Sage called, with her hand on her hip.

"Password!" he sang. Eden shook her head with a lopsided grin etched on her nude pink lips. She and Sage looked at each other, reading one another's minds and rolling their eyes. Eden glanced at the crumpled paper in her hands, her hazelnut eyes acknowledged the black ink.

Eden anticipated something wholly inappropriate and immoral—Braeden's passcodes always were. But, as she unscrambled the sheet and read the handwriting, which resembles that of a kindergartener, the answer seemed to be the complete opposite.

"ME! by Taylor Swift?" she read aloud, her tone rising a few octaves in question. Sage burst into laughter before, suddenly, the door swung open and Braeden snatched the sheet away from me.