Playing With Fire

Chapter Nine

New part uploaded! I actually had a lot of fun writing this chapter. It seems out of character characters seem to draw my attention. I'm really liking the new personality I gave Faye. 

Make sure to leave comments below, as I prefer feedback over votes. 

Thank you for reading! 

VOMMENT. 

Can I get 65 votes and 10 comments? 

xxSummerxx

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                                                 Chapter Nine

I take slow steps towards Travis, careful not to make any abrupt noises. In the moments that I had been walking towards him, he had managed to plop himself on the sandy floor, his legs crossed.

When I am mere inches away, I reach my finger out, ready to poke him, but then I quickly withdraw. Compared to usual, he’s appears peaceful. I turn my head to see if Layla’s still watching, but she’s no longer standing by the door. The lights are on in my room with no one there.

“What are you doing?” Travis’s grumbled voice snaps my attention back to him.

I step back slightly and then fold my arms.

“I could ask you the same question.” I reply, shaking off the previous overdrive his rough voice threw my heart into. 

He brings a bottle of wine up to his lips and takes a gulp, “What does it look like?”

I look away, slightly repulsed that he brought a bottle with him. It reminded me of my mom, someone I had successfully forgotten for a while.

He chuckles when he sees my expression and places the bottle on the floor besides him.

“Are you drunk?” I press, finding it hard to believe that he would let himself be so vulnerable in the open.

He shrugs, “Am I?”

I scoff and unfold my arms, “I think you are.”

“That settles it then.” He flashes me a sloppy smirk before picking up the bottle and going for another swig.

I watch as he exhales after a gulp and then goes for another chug. My face scrunches up—nose wrinkling and all—as I continue to watch him mercilessly finish most of the drink.

“You’ve never had a drink before, have you?” He asks once his lips leave the bottle for more than a second.

“No,” I say with a quipped tone, “I would never.”

He lifts a perfect brow and snorts, “Why not, it’s so liberating.”

“It’s an illusion,” I argue, “It only makes you think you’re free.”

“Looks like you know more than you’re letting on.” He mocks, leaning forward and almost falling face first on the sand.

            Resentment rushes through me as he says those words. They truly hit home; he really doesn’t know how much I actually know.

            I shake my head and make a move to sit a few few inches away from him.

            I just need a little distraction.

            That’s all.

            I push a strand of hair behind my ear and start drawing shapes in the sand. In between the silence, he grabs the wine and takes one huge gulp. I look up at him, wordlessly slandering his actions. It’s as if my eyes are drawn to him and that bottle, no matter how much the thought repulses me.