Pusher

sixteen.

"I hope you didn't have any car trouble on the way here."

I whipped around to face Maverick's taunting smile. His hair was as messy as always. He ran a hand through and pushed the dark strands out of his eyes. He wore black as usual, the fabric clinging to his lean frame.

"I'm more worried about the dent in the front bumper that it's going to get when I run you over."

He laughed, casually leaning up against the kitchen counter. His tired eyes rolled over me and sent a wave of heat creeping up my neck and to my cheeks. My arms slid over my chest.

"So no hard feelings then?" He smiled, sarcasm thick in his voice. Of course he didn't take me seriously. When had he ever?

I ignored him, grabbing a soda from the cooler and turning to leave. My mind was already on Ellie, trying to figure out what I could say to her to convince her to leave with me. I didn't want to be in the same country as Maverick, let alone the same building. Not to mention, his presence was bad for business. I doubted anyone would dare to buy a single gram from me with him around.

But he reached out for my wrist before I could get far, and pulled me back. "Come on, Angel. It was just a little prank."

"Stop calling me that," I said, shaking myself out of his grip. My irritation shined through my words at blinding intensity.

"What's wrong with Angel? There are worse nicknames."

"Just don't, alright?"

We didn't get a chance to argue further. Another girl slipped into the kitchen. She was the blonde bombshell of every teenage boy's dream, complete with a skin-tight dress and an alcohol induced buzz about her. Her jaw was a soft curve, but her eyes were sharp and dark.

I wasn't quite sure what she had been drinking, but it must have been pretty strong because she practically tripped into the room.

"I was hoping you'd be here tonight." Her voice was velvet. She slid into Maverick's arms as easy as pulling on a jacket. His embrace was clearly familiar to her. She pressed a pair of handcuffs to his chest, lowering her sultry voice, and I took that as my cue to leave.

He had long forgotten about me anyway.

As I entered back into the living room, I glanced across the hall and stole a look at the boy in the red cap Ellie had been talking about. He had broad shoulders and thick bones. Splotchy red was splattered underneath his cheeks. For a second I debated going over to sit next to him.

I could ask him to teach me how to play poker, pretending I didn't already know, and slip in a few well placed comments. It would be easy.

But instead I retreated back onto the lumpy sofa. My elbows balanced on the tops of my knees and my palms pressed into my eyes. My head was swimming in anxiety, and ever so slowly the sickly feeling trickled down into my stomach.

"There you are." The voice was low and sloppy, the vowels running into each other and the constants tripping over themselves. It was distinctly feminine.

I glanced up, willing myself to swallow down all the heat that had risen to my face. Raven stood over me, only for a second, before falling onto the couch cushion beside me.

Her black and blue patterned dress was slipping up to a dangerously short length and her shoes were nowhere to be seen. Her face, normally painted with deep colors, was almost bare. It didn't look so sharp now, just soft curves and pastel tones. Her hair had been dyed again, and the strands that fell over her shoulder were now blonde rather than purple.

She looked up at me, her eyelids drooping and blinking at a languid pace.

"How's the party?" Her voice was muffled, quiet, but I could just hear it over the music blasting in the other room. Someone had bumped up the volume and switched up the playlist. People were actually dancing now, not just making out in each other's arms.

I wondered if Ellie had worked her way into Shawn's hold again and thought about the dark, little corner of the house they must have taken refuge in.

"You could have told me Maverick was going to be here," I grumbled. She was either too drunk to notice or too drunk to care about the irritation thick in my voice.

"Do you think I invited that basta-" Her insult was cut off halfway through as her tongue stumbled and tripped over herself. She barreled on with only a slight pause. "He's the one who wrote dy-" —she hiccuped— "-ke across my locker last year."

"Did you tell the administration?" I asked. Of course I already knew about Raven's locker getting vandalized — it was all anyone ever talked about for weeks — but according to everyone I spoke to, no one had been caught for doing it.

"They told me they couldn't do anything with just an accusation. Something about not enough evidence" —another hiccup— "faulty security cameras or whatever."

Had Maverick really been the one to coat her locker in black letters or was Raven just being paranoid and suspicious? And if he was willing to do that to her, what exactly did he have planned for me?

My mind was still reeling with questions when Raven leaned her head on my shoulder, tucking her feet between the cushion and her legs.

I stiffened at first, an uneasy feeling spiking through me, but it settled and drifted down into the couch beneath us. My eyes wandered to the boy in the red cap and we linked eyes, only for a moment before his roamed over Raven's half-conscious form. His mouth twisted into something ugly.

I could go over there. I could lay my head on his shoulder like Raven did to me, wrap my hands around to the inside of his arm. I'd laugh at all his jokes, whether they be funny or not. He would throw an arm around my shoulder, pulling me close enough to breathe in the cologne that stuck to his clothes.

The weight of how uninviting this idea felt kept me anchored to the couch cushion.

Raven shifted, tucking her face in the space between my neck and collar, and laid her long legs over my lap. I let her, one hand resting just below her knee. My thumb rubbed a small arc on her lower back.

A foreign feeling twisted inside me, stretching out and pushing against the inside of my ribcage. I didn't mind it.