Boombox

West Coast ✚ you've got the music in you ✚

O N  A  R A I N Y  N I G H T, her steps were the only sounds of feet shuffling to the beat of the music only she could hear as her body swayed with the internal harmony of her soul. She trotted when she heard thunders clattering to protect herself from the danger of the incoming storm and the world seemed deserted. There was barely any population in the street and her anxiety hasn't kicked in just yet. She felt herself relax with each banging roar in the welkins and suddenly heard a person's shriek. She stood up straight from her leaning position slowly trying to peak through the fanatical weather at the person but all she could see was flying objects, and she knew, no matter how much she loved the adrenaline and the pure wildness from being in tricky situations, that she had to find herself a shelter for the night.

She walked towards the source of the noise, more like trotted, until she reached a sidewalk that only led to a small one story house painted in light lavender with large graffiti's printed on each side of the house. The odd thing was, despite the obvious bad weather conditions, there were people sprawled on the front lawn smoking pots while others lingered on the doorway and the porch above with drinks in hand. The front door of the bizarre house was wide open for any person to walk in, so that's exactly what she did. Once inside, the first thing everyone had in common where the large cigars dangling from their mouths, and some even from their ears. And the majority of the females were tattooed in the oddest places, except it didn't look like a rock party. The atmosphere of this particular revelry didn't seem crazy, it was tamed yet wild. Their fun was peaceful. There was a soft tune playing in the background with buckets of liquor on the floor, smashed plates in a corner near the stairs and a dish on a table that looked suspiciously like lobsters, only colored green.

A soft 'ehem' grabbed her attention and she turned to a red-headed girl in a flowery patterned skirt and black lacey bra. The girl introduced herself as Delilah, the owner of the house and then turned to hand her a black wooden pipe with the letter J curved onto it vintage skin. She gave her a soft small smile and waited for her to inhale; the girl not waiting any longer took a large inhale and closed her eyes. She counted till five and then released a breath. Delilah looked at her with amused eyes as she patted her back and welcomed her 'on board of being highly awesome'. She doubted her choice of words had to be literary.

After Delilah left her, she took the stairs and climbed up. She found another staircase leading to a rooftop, far from civilization of the quiet party and safe from the pouring rain. At least she had to protect her hair from being constantly wet. She sat herself on top of the stairs, near a window situated next the door that didn't withhold the mesmerizing view of the white flash through the dark heavens, she gazed at its beauty. She wasn't like other people, loud and dangerous things didn't frighten her, and she was fascinated by them. She was fascinated by everything. She loved how being high felt, she loved standing still during a blizzard, and she loved thunders, and loud and soft music. She loved the feeling of being alive. Footsteps heading toward her seating position cut her line of thoughts as a man, in his late twenties, appeared. He was dressed in a white t-shirt with black jeans. He was probably the most causal dressed guy she had seen since she stepped into this house. Most of them had ponytails and girls on their sides.

"Are you deaf?" He shouted at her, making several hand gestures with the bottle of beer in his hand, making him look more foolish.

She chuckled.

"If I was deaf, do you think I would've gotten the slightest clue what you were saying?"

"Well, no. But you would hand signal me that, wouldn't you? Besides, I asked you a question five times. You were zoned out." He replied.

"That's what happens when you're halfway high." She said, running a hand through her wet tangled hair.

A short silence enveloped them. He was standing; she was sitting still gazing outside of the window.

"I'm Frank, by the way."

She glanced at him, nodding indicating that she wasn't zoned out as he claimed earlier.

"Aren't you going to ask me what my name is?" she asked, quite confused.

"No." he replied shortly.

"Why?"

"If you wanted to share your name with me, you would've already." He smiled and started walking down the stairs. Seconds later, he reappeared. "Well, are you coming down or not?"

She grinned at him and walked down, side by side with Frank.

♪♪♪

The journey to the ground floor was nothing exceptional. Once down, the mood has noticeably differed from the quiet partying to the wild one. Smoke was filled in the air and it was so thick it made her doubt if the fire alarms would ring their bells anytime soon. Ashes were scattered across the floor, people passing puffs on the couch, people grinding to the sound of the loud blaring music. Frank grabbed her hand and led her through the sweaty bodies toward the kitchen where there were less population and much more food and liquor and the music was clearer. She started swaying her head to the tune, then her shoulders, and then her feet and her entire body started dancing to the beat altogether. Melodies created burning passion in her soul passing shivers from her toes to her head. Then she stopped. She realized she was laughing this entire time while she danced and looked around and saw Frank staring at her. He was holding the same bottle of beer from earlier on, and he had a soft smile on his face. He moistened his lips then drank the rest of the bottle's contents and set it down.

"You're a phenomenal dancer."

She felt her neck burn from the attention she was receiving from the handsome lad. She wanted his eyes on anything but her but that was quite impossible since he approached her, closer and closer till his chest was touching hers. He whispered gently, "teach me."

She looked up and instantly regretted it. Her innocent move made them centimeters closer and to anyone passing by, they seemed like two people kissing. Little did they know, despite the alcohol and weed consuming, they were both sober than they ever were before. They were alert, pumping with energy and sparks. They spent the rest of the nighttime, limbs to limbs, hands on waist, dancing to the songs of the night.

Just before dawn, and before everyone finally gave out to blackness, she crawled next to Frank and whispered in his ear. "Carla. My name's Carla." And left.