Bleed The Dream

Chapter Six: Underage

"But she can't be what you need if she's 17"

The 1975

CHAPTER SIX:

The first thing I noticed was the giant bong in the living room. A group of teenagers circled the coffee table, sitting on the carpet, laughing as music pounded from a speaker. Off to my right was the kitchen, the island bar-top covered in cups and bottles. Sandwich stood next to Brianna, mixing her a drink while laughing at something she was saying.

"Bandit!" She said when she saw me.

I smiled, giving a little wave. Sandwich turned, grinning when he saw me, passing Brianna her drink. She sauntered into the living room, joining the conversation as the bong went around the circle. Sandwich got out a cup and turned to smile widely at me. "You came!" He said.

"Why does everyone here look so..." I lowered my voice, "young?"

Sandwich looked embarrassed. "They're Brianna's friends."

I took a seat at the bar top and leaned backwards, gripping the counter as I peeked into the livingroom. They couldn't be older than juniors. I would've recognized them from school. I turned back to stare suspiciously at Sandwich. "How old is Brianna?"

Sandwich spun towards the fridge and started putting ice in a glass. His shoulders were tense. "Can I get you a drink Bandit?"

"Are you going answer my question?"

He dropped the glass on the counter, reaching for the rum. He poured some in the glass and then poured in some coke, sliding the glass my way, a tiny bit sloshing over the rim onto his hand. I took it and leaned backwards, fixing him with my best stare. He looked guilty and embarrassed, adjusting his flannel and not meeting my gaze.

"She'll be fifteen."

My eyes went wide. "I'm sorry, did you just say she will be fifteen?"

Sandwich stared guiltily into the living room where Brianna was leaning against her blonde friend and giggling. "Yeah in a couple of weeks. Don't say anything, okay Bandit? I love her."

"I wasn't going to," I held my hands up in retreat. "It's your business, not mine. I do have to ask though... where are her parents?"

"Out of town for the weekend," he said. "Her brother is supposed to be watching her, but he's got some overnight military thing tonight."

A few of the kids wandered into the kitchen, abruptly ending our conversation. Brianna slid past them and pulled open the door to the pantry, pulling out a stack of red solo cups. "Beer pong, anyone?" She held the stack up triumphantly.

"Wanna play Bandit?" Sandwich asked me, heading for the table.

"I'm good for now," I held my cup up, leaning against the counter and taking a sip. There was a bluetooth speaker playing G-Eazy, the music low and thumping. Someone made a shot with the ping pong ball and there were cheers behind me. I took a sip of my drink and turned in my chair, watching the game with mild boredom.

Ten minutes into the game and I was nearly to the bottom of my cup. I was starting to wish I'd brought my laptop. Parties usually went two ways for me; I was either (a) the loudest one there, or (b) a wallflower with a cup glued to her hand. My phone was almost dead, my headphones were at home, and I felt too old to really involve myself in the party.

The door to the garage opened and I turned, watching as a guy with short dark hair and dark amber eyes walked into the kitchen. He froze at the sight that greeted him; the bong, the alcohol, the teenagers.

"Brianna!" He barked at his sister, who was giggling as she tried to aim her ping pong ball at the cups. She jumped, dropping the ball. It bounced against the table then landed in the cup beneath her. A boy at the opposite side of the table cheered, turning to ask his buddy, "that counts right?"

"Lee!" She rushed towards her brother, voice cracking with panic. "I thought you were supposed to be gone!"

"Obviously," he snarled, "I want all of these kids out of here!" he looked around at the group of kids littering the living room and kitchen, then his eyes landed on me. They stayed on my face for a long moment. "How old are you?" he snarled.

"Eighteen," I rose an eyebrow at him.

"She can stay," he jerked a thumb at me, "but everybody else? Out."

I grinned into my cup.

Brianna glanced at me, then at her brother, tilting her head. "Lee," she started in a reasonable voice, "mom and dad won't be home for three days. Just have some fun."

I watched them argue for a bit, taking a sip of my drink, amused by the argument and her brother's reaction to me. Sandwich sidled up next me and took a swig of his beer. "Lee likes you," he muttered to me.

"Doesn't know me," I shrugged, "give him a minute and he'll run screaming."

"Heaven help him," Sandwich snorted. I rolled my eyes at his comment. He leaned against the counter, grinning and shaking his head, watching his girlfriend argue with her brother. After a moment Lee threw his hands up and headed into the kitchen, grabbing a beer. Sandwich slinked off to go talk to his girlfriend, leaving me alone at the counter.

Lee twisted off the cap of his drink and tossed it into the trash before leaning against the counter across from me. Still scowling, he asked, "What's your name?"

"Bandit."

His eyebrow rose. "Wierd name."

"Thank you."

His full lips twisted into a grin.

At five in the morning, I walked out to my car, shoving my dead phone into my back pocket. The sky was barely starting to lighten, but the sun was still hiding behind the mountains. I rubbed at my eyes. There was a soft throbbing in my head. My hangover would've been worse if Lee hadn't made sure that I'd always had water nearby. He'd been asleep when I'd left, and I hadn't bothered to wake him to say anything. Because I'm a lousy person. Because nothing good would've come from it if I'd stayed.

Spellbound. Chapter 12. Bandit King.

Lyra sat at the demon bar, sipping on a glass of witch wine, watching Nixon shove a burly demon against the wall, his hair turning black in an instant. The demon snarled, it's claws digging into the Nixon's arm, making his pointed ear twitch. He hissed something harshly at the demon. Bored, Lyra turned back to the bar, propping her chin up with her hand.

"You with the fey?" Someone asked to her left.

She let her head tilt towards the voice, blonde hair spilling over her shoulder. An older demon with dark red skin and facial rune tattoos had a mug of beer in front of him. "It depends which one of us you ask." She took another sip of wine.

"I'm asking you."

"I'm his captive," she said, bored.

The demon eyed Nixon. "You want to change that?"

Lyra lifted her face to the demon and smiled slowly.