Sugar & Spice (Jeff The Killer)

8- Drinks

Warning: Chapter more mature than usual.

I lounged on the deck a week later with a book in my hand, enjoying the cool breeze and overcast weather when a thought occurred to me.

"You're over 21, right? You can get alcohol?" I asked, peeking at Jeff who was just staring at the water with his feet hanging off the deck, twirling his knife in his hand which was a rather unnerving sight.

"Duh."

I rolled my eyes at his tone. Over the past week he had been a bit stingy. It was getting on my nerves.

"Will you buy me alcohol?" I asked, a sugary sweet tone to my voice. I sat up in the lawn chair and folded the paperback closed, setting it beside me.

"You're under age. That's illegal," he pointed out, quite literally as he pointed his knife over his shoulder at me to emphasize his point.

"So? You kill people," I commented, standing up to make my way over to him.

He just grumbled in response.

"What's wrong with you today?" I asked, jabbing my finger into his back as I sat behind him. "You're being grumpy. See? Maybe you need to get drunk."

He turned his head so I could see his side profile. "Yeah, okay. Maybe you're right."

And that's how we ended up sitting on the kitchen table giggling like little kids. Although that was after the hour drive to the nearest liquor store to buy vodka, lemonade, and a case of beer.

I swirled the mixture of lemonade and vodka in the glass in my hand, my eyelids drunkenly half closed.

"You see that drawer over there?" I asked, my voice wavering as I swayed on the table.

"Yep," Jeff sighed, taking another sip from his beer. Apparently he wasn't into vodka much, only having taken a shot each time I did. And that was about 4 at this point. He didn't care for it in drinks.

"I have... so many paint colors in there. I liked to paint when I was a kid but I left them here one summer," I took a long sip from the strong alcohol, the pain of my missing paints returning.

"Wait! Take off your shirt and I'll paint your back. Like the stuff on tumblr, you know?"

Jeff just shrugged, not matching my enthusiasm.

He stood up and removed his shirt, a drunken lust falling over me as he did so.

I stumbled over to the drawer and pulled out my supply of water colors and acrylics. The brushes were dusty but definitely still usable. I filled a cup with water and set it on the ground.

"Lay down here," I ordered.

"Bossy- woah." He jumped when I straddled his thighs after he laid down on the hardwood.

"I should paint what the police think you look like!" I cackled, clutching my sides as I laughed.

"Just kidding, I'll paint something pretty like a sunset," I mumbled.

I dipped a brush into a yellow paint and began downward strokes across his shoulders. I could see the goosebumps rise on his skin at the touch. I dragged my other hand down the center of his back, feeling him arch into my touch ever so slightly.

"What's wrong, Jeff?" I asked as I painted with a new orange color, my voice pouty with alcohol and genuine concern.

He groaned as I grasped his shoulder, changing to a mellow red.