She thinks she may have been lying in this bed for him for months on end. She thinks she doesn't mind that one bit. Nothing feels more comfortable than where she is right now, even if she has a hangover, even if there's a slight knot in her throat.
She can feel the scar from where she stabbed him with the bottle, feels him twitch slightly when she touches it. She understands and bites her lip, fingers circling her own scar on her stomach. He has a hand tangled in her hair, and the other hand clasps hers. He kisses her fingers softly.
"Are you two fucking?" Richie yells from other side of the door, and Noah is snickering.
"Yes." Lucy shouts back, retreating under the covers and closer to Ollie. He smells like cigarettes and cherries and that's so much better than the blood that gotten used to.
Richie ignores this and barges into the room anyway. He observes them for a moment, picks up one of Oliver's shirts off the floor, sniffs it, and puts it on. He blinks at Lucy as she peeks up from under the cover.
She lifts up the blanket from him in defeat, inviting him into the warmth. He scowls, but jumps into bed next to her.
"Liar."
//
They live life just like that for a while, and in the mornings, Lucy feels the sun in her eyes and thinks that perhaps this is heaven. The heaven she never deserved.
//
A month later, they buy a van off BuySwapSell, and it costs a thousand bucks. It's shitty and makes a terrible spluttering sound whenever you turn it on, and the cracked leather on the seats is beyond repair. Regardless, they love it. Ollie and Lucy fuck on the backseat the day after they drive it home.
//
One day while he's outside having a smoke, Noah looks at the van thoughtfully and after a drag says, "We could rob a gas station with this,"
Oliver, who is standing next to him, plucks the cigarette out of his hands, takes a drag and nods. "Sounds like a solid plan." After a beat, Richie adds, "I know a guy who can get us a gun,"
//
Lucy is less than thrilled.
"You're aware of how fucking stupid this is, right?" they're standing outside of the house, scuffing the concrete with their shitty shoes while they wait for Richie and John to come back with a gun.
Oliver doesn't understand why it bothers her. He first saw her when she was stealing stuff from a thrift store, she steals packets of gum from the diner and the gas station all the time, and she's gets into brawls in pubs. She does dangerous things all of the time because she wants to feel something. Why is this suddenly too much? He waits a beat.
"What makes you think that?"
"We're going to end up in prison, dickweed."
"It's not like you haven't done similar shit before," Oliver scoffs. She kicks up dirt in the dead grass. She revels in how many dead things are probably around her right this second.
"Oh, yeah?"
"How did you get that car again?" He says it sarcastically, pointing at her Camaro. "Paid for that yourself did you?"
She crosses her arms. Maybe he knows how to make things hurt too. "That's not fair." Her voice hardens. "I didn't have another way out, you know that. But we don't need to do this! We don't need the money!"
"We don't need the drugs either, Lu, and still we fuck ourselves up with them."
"That's not a reason!"
YOU ARE READING
LIQUORICE & LIQUOR.
Short Story"His literal blood is on her hands and she's somehow gotten it in her hair, because she always does. None of it matters, though, because he's looking at her like she's the entire world, blood in her hair and all." She steals books from thrift store...
