Underneath | 𝟏𝟖+ ✓

12:00

His car was loud. Every time his foot hit the gas pedal the engine would rev up and vibrate the whole vehicle. Luckily, I only had to sit on the crunchy leather seats for ten minutes, sitting as still as possible to not create that obnoxious farting noise. When we arrive at our destination, I'm surprised to find that it's a deadbeat 7-Eleven. Two of the E's in the lit-up sign are burnt out and the 7 is flickering madly, the lightbulb fighting to stay on. "Uhmm, why are we here?" I question softly, staring at Erik's clean-cut jaw. I told him to make this night worth it, and here we are, parked at an empty gas station.

He doesn't reply and instead opens the compartment between our two seats, taking out a box of Marlboro Lights. Without so much as a sound, he lathers a cigarette between his lips and flicks open a silver lighter. The small flame ignites the cigarette and a second later, smoke is billowing from Erik's parted lips. The smell of nicotine reminded me of the one person I was trying to forget and I cringe, scrunching my eyes shut tightly. Just as I was about to literally throw myself out of the clouded car to try and get away from my horrid memories; Erik rolls down his window, the toxic smoke drifting away. I calmly take a deep breath, relaxing away the ugly image stuck in my mind. Why can't I just forget about him?

The screech of a car door shakes me back to reality and I realize Erik is exiting the car, so I follow his lead, stepping out into the midnight air. We simultaneously slam our doors shut, both gazing up at the ruined 7-Eleven sign. "Rule Number One," Erik's voice slices through the silent night, trembling me to the core, "when you run, don't look back."

I nod in understanding even though his eyes are focused on something else. Erik takes the lead and I stray slightly behind him, wondering what the hell I would be needing to run for. The entrance bell chimes and the single cashier eyes us suspiciously, already alarmed by our presence. Although, Erik and I didn't exactly look like the poster-childs' for good behavior, if anything we looked like the complete opposite with our bloodshot eyes and stench of smoke. Just as I'm about to make my way down the candy aisle, Erik stops me by my wrist, leaning down to whisper against my ear, "grab whatever you want."

  At that, I smile like a child, racing to snatch two packs of Swedish Fish, along with a pack of Sour Gummy Worms. My sweet tooth eggs me on further and I pick out a King-size Babe Ruth, not even caring that I was damaging Erik's wallet. After guiltily deciding on a couple more treats, I spot Erik stationed by the refrigerated aisle, peering into the door that held alcoholic beverages. A clear sign is pasted on the glass, stating the law that everyone knew but failed to follow, 'Purchase and consumption of alcohol is not allowed until the age of 21. A license must be shown at the counter'. After reading the statement, my mind dawns on something I should've asked beforehand; How old was Erik?

"Erik," I murmur, leaning against the cold glass of the door next to the one he's rudely holding open. His eyes flicked amongst the bottles, examining each one thoroughly. I nibble on my bottom lip nervously, clutching the candy tightly against my stomach, "Erik?" I pause, hoping for his gaze but he gives nothing but a cold shoulder so I continue anyway, "uhmm, how old are you?"

  "24," he swiftly replies emotionlessly and I choke on my own spit, my eyelids flying open like alien saucers. He looked like he was 19 or 20, at most 21, but no, he's 24. I inhale with a tremble, my tongue caught somewhere in my throat...oh dear. I don't think he had a clue about me. "Uhh, Er-," I have to pause to swallow the enormous lump in my throat, my heart thundering against my ribcage, "Erik...I'm 17."

My uneasy words don't even make him flinch and he merely shrugs, finally choosing a bottle of Brandy. So I guess he didn't care that he currently held the title of a molester or even a pedophile. "How old's your boyfriend?" Erik questions, closing the glass door and staring at me expectantly. Before I can even answer, my mind gets dumbstruck and I hesitate because of my idiotic self. I sigh, looking at the floor, "19." I hear Erik snort and I snap my head up to glare at him, already knowing I'd been caught. Sometimes I forgot my boyfriend was overage. I guess that's because he always acts like a reckless teenage twat. Erik chuckles lightly with that devious smirk of his, representing that he didn't have a care in the world, "that's what I thought, babygirl."

  I roll my eyes and hug my snacks closer to my stomach, embarrassed. I groan lowly, avoiding his eye contact, "can we just buy our shit now?"

  "Oh," his grin grows wider—if that's even possible—leaning down so his lips met my earlobe, "we're not buying this." My face scrunches up and I peer at him like a lost child, utterly confused as to what he meant. But before I can ask him exactly that, he saunters away from me and up to the cashier counter. I stand there, frozen in my spot, watching intensely as Erik conversed with the cashier. Then it all happened so quickly. The bottle of Brandy Erik had gotten is shattered on the floor and the cashier is cursing at himself, and whilst he bent over to clean it up, Erik signaled me to make a break for it, to steal. So, I did.

I start a slow trek to the exit door, careful to not look overly suspicious but it was an act of failure due to the amount of candy I held exposed in my arms. It's pretty obvious what I'm trying to do, and I almost get away with it, until the cashier hollers, "hey! What the hell do you think you're doing, Missy?" And then I run, straight out the door and to Erik's car where he comes racing after me a few seconds later. Filled with adrenaline, I hop into the car, my candy flinging everywhere as I cry out for Erik to, "step on it!"

  He reversed out of the parking spot in lightning speed, and the cashier came out screaming, thrashing his hands all around in the air. The poor worker was too late though because Erik was screeching out of the gas station, zooming down the empty street. When I considered ourselves safe, I turn to look at Erik, and soon, we were laughing like crazy, mimicking the desperate cashier childishly. I'd never felt such a rush in my life. Our giggles die down but I can't erase the smile from my lips, not even believing what I'd just done.

  Erik's hand drifts over to me and then grasps onto one of my thighs, shaking it softly, "you're pretty impressive, baby."

  I don't respond and stare at his veiny hand, a series of tattoos across his knuckles and fingers. Then it dawns on me and I have to swallow the guilt from my chest. I was cheating, and I liked it. I felt powerful for once in my life, like my boyfriend finally didn't have control over my actions and everything else in my life. There was one thing I didn't want, however, and that was love. I didn't want a replacement boyfriend who showered me with sweet sayings or kissed me when I was feeling down. I wanted someone to make me forget.

  "Erik," I twist my whole body so it's directed towards him, his hand slipping off my thigh, "I need to lay down some ground rules for tonight."

  Erik licks his lips and the twitch of his nose tells me he wants to laugh but I was dead serious about this. I didn't want either of us taking things too far to the point where we couldn't turn back. He sighs, glancing at me, "continue."

  "Alright, first off, no more flirting. No more of those cute nicknames. No telling me I'm pretty or beautiful, none of that," I announce and he nods after a reluctant moment, knowing he'd already done some of that tonight which is exactly why I laid down that rule.

  "Secondly, when the clock strikes 6 am, we're done. No texting, no calls, no nothing. After tonight, we never see each other again. We go back to our own lives."

  Once again Erik nods, focusing on the road before him. I take his silence as a hint and continue on my list of rules, "lastly, no asking about feelings. That shit is exactly the reason I need tonight to be free so don't go prying to get them."

  He nods, hand clutching the steering wheel and foot easing on the brake as we near a stoplight. He breaks his gaze from the road, to me, the night shadows dancing in his eyes.

  "Do we have a deal?" I ask anxiously, desperate for an agreement. I hoped he needed the night off as much as I did.

  "Deal."