Her Dog Days

✲ chapter seven ✲

Once we got out of the car, Aston had taken the lead and walked in front of me, where I quietly slipped the sunglasses back on.

Can't kill the badass vibe.

Can't kill something if it's already dead.

Shut up author and stick to your damn job.

We walk down a slim alley to a basement that's been converted to a popping bar called The Zinn. It has a very minimalistic black and white tone with the built of any classic bar you'd see in movies.

Cause as you can tell by who I am, I've only seen bars in movies.

We walk down a few steps to the door of the bar, only to find a few more steps to take us down further. This bar might come in handy for a nuclear bunker in the future, I'll have to keep a mental note.

Once you open the door, you're basically attacked by the trippy white and black stripes painted on the walls.

I couldn't tell if there was another step or if we reached the floor so I took my chance but obviously there were about three extra steps, so I ate it.

I started to fumble down the stairs like a football and eventually face planted onto the ground floor.

Honestly, it didn't hurt as much as it should but it was definitely way more embarrassing than it should've been. Also, I could feel the signature Aston look where he judges everything I've done up to this point.

He gives me a minimal amount of help to get up while many people eyed me with judgment as well.

From a quick glance, I could tell these are Aston's people. The people who got their first tattoo and piercing when they were 13, the people who lied to their parents about study groups and coming to places like this.

Like me, obviously besides the tattoo and piercing part.

You also had your usual sluts with clothing that belongs to a five-year-old, and older men who slip their wedding rings off their finger before entering and told their wives they were 'working late tonight, so don't wait up.'

Aston took the lead and led us to a small booth with cushions seatings in black and white stripes.

My eyes were suffering and could possibly explode from all these trippy patterns.

The table also had a black and white swirl on top that oddly seemed like it was spinning; I desperately wanted to cover with a huge napkin or table cloth.

Aston was first to slide into the booth and just as I was about to seat myself across from him-- as one regular human does, he pulls my arm, forcing me to sit next to him.

Really next to him.

Really, really next to him.

The song "Sharpest Edges", by Gallant, was blasting on the speakers next to the trippy looking DJ booth with soft white lights flashing on and off.

You got the sharpest edges I've ever seen,

And every time my hands get careless, you make me bleed.

My heart was pounding insanely, like if a hammer drill was completely obliterating a wall. I don't know if this is happening because of the uncomfortableness of this proximity, or maybe because I wanted this; I can't put my finger on it.

I'm cut up, down, and in between,

'Cause you got the sharpest edges I've ever seen,

Hurt me.

Aston had pulled me so close, my shoulder was discreetly laying on his chest, and I felt the sound of his heart too.