sixteen

Background color
Font
Font size
Line height

..

Dray woke with a smile on her face. A warm scent filled the room and she opened her eyes to a beautiful sight. The ache in her side from not leaving the couch since yesterday afternoon didn't even matter.

"I could get used to this," she said, rubbing her eyes.

Wells stood over the stove, flipping pancakes. He wore an old apron Dray didn't even know she had. "Well, don't. I'm pretty sure it's the woman's—"

"Do not finish that sentence." She pushed herself up to stand and crossed her arms, walking towards him.

A pancake flipped off the griddle and landed lopsided on a plate. Wells glanced over his shoulder. "You know I'm kidding." He had a cute, crooked grin on his face.

"No, I don't," she said, but held a smile of her own. She sat down at the breakfast bar and leaned on her forearms. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes bright.

Wells slid a plate in front of her and squinted. "You look awfully happy this morning."

Dray side-eyed him. "I wonder why," she drawled and immediately dug into her food. It tasted just as delicious, if not better, than she remembered.

The scrape of a stool and clink on a plate raised her attention back up. Wells sat down across from her with a goofy look on his face. He took a bite, smiling at her the entire time it took him to swallow it.

"You look awfully happy this morning," she repeated.

Laughter created a wordless agreement that they were both indeed happy about what had happened the night before and where it was leading them.

Dray sighed in relief between bites of her breakfast. She dodged a bullet with Wells. After being alone for so long, she had no idea what she was getting into, but this felt like a good start. This felt like the right direction.

"So let's recap," Wells said, ending the peaceful silence. "We have the sheriff, the mayor, and Nash Yate at the top. We have your sister, Lucy, presumably in the know, and we have a lot of possible evidence in my cousin, Ivory's, trunk."

"We don't exactly have the stuff in your cousin's trunk." Dray licked the extra syrup off her fork. "So aside from Ivory's notes, we don't have much of anything at all."

His fork clanked on his empty plate and Dray's eyes grew slightly. She still had a whole pancake left. Wells rubbed his temples with his palms, his fingers entangling in his hair. "No, I guess we don't," he said.

A knock at the door resounded through the room. Dray's forehead wrinkled as she glanced between her front door and Wells. She slowly put down her pancake-filled fork and walked over. A piece of paper slid through the old-school mail slot before she got there. After a second of frozen fear, she ran the rest of the way and stood on her tip toes to look through the peephole.

Whoever dropped off the note decided not to make an appearance.

Dray reached for the paper. It reminded her of the stationary the sheriff used to set up the photoshoot. She unfolded it. "Chester Farm holds a key." Her face scrunched up as she read the sole sentence. "Chester Farm?" She looked at Wells.

He walked over to her, mirroring her confusion, but for different reason. "It was an old museum. People think it's haunted, but it's abandoned now. Been that way for a couple of years. People lost interest, I guess." He grabbed the note, grazing his thumb over the handwritten words.

"Well, this is weird." Their eyes connected. "Why would we get this? Why would we go there?"

Wells turned away and went into the living area. He grabbed a light jacket and slid it on. "Only one way to find out."

Dray's first instinct pushed to disagree, but then she realized it was the morning. Nothing bad ever happened in the daylight. She looked down at her pajamas, at the breakfast counter, and then back at Wells. "Can I finish my pancake first?"

Wells stared at her.

"I'll be fast!" She jumped over to the counter and downed the rest of her food in a few bites. With a mouth full, she ran into her room in a haste, throwing on the first outfit she saw that may or may not have been laying on the floor.

"Let's go, let's go!" She jogged back into the living room and out the door. Her jitters grew and she hopped between her feet while waiting for Wells to get through the door so she could lock it.

The two jumped on his motorcycle. The abandoned museum was on the way to Lockton, but just as Dray started to recognize the route, they took a hard right onto a twisty dirt road lined with trees. Wells slowed down to avoid the deep potholes and broken branches scattered throughout. Dray couldn't tell if the nerves in her stomach rose from excitement or impending danger. When they arrived, she dug her nails into her palms.

Wells led the way. He hugged the tree line, passing the front door, and rounded towards the back. Before Dray could question, he put a finger to his lips. "It may be morning, but we're still breaking and entering." His voice lowered to a whisper.

Dray nodded to herself as Wells tried the back door. She may have forgotten this was illegal.

The door rattled like it was about to fall off, but Wells had no luck. "There's another way," he said. "It's just not as," he hopped down the steps, "nice."

Dray would be lying if she said that didn't freak her out, but she followed him anyway with a false sense of confidence.

Around the corner, old cellar doors jutted out from the ground. The handles were secured by a flimsy black chain that held so much rust, Wells broke it with ease. He opened the doors and put a foot on the first step. "You might want to hold your breath. Already smells pretty bad."

Holding in a groan, Dray gently shoved him forward, but noticing the lack of light following them in, she took a handful of his jacket in her grip.

The open cellar doors only let in sunlight a few feet past the stone steps. After that, Wells' flashlight from his phone illuminated a musty, dark room lined with rickety metal shelves holding broken furniture and soggy cardboard boxes thrown haphazardly from wall to wall.

The amount of dust gave Ivory's condo a run for its money, but it didn't sit as undisturbed. The two inched up a second rotting staircase and wandered around, sticking close together, but found nothing out of the ordinary.

"Do you think we're really looking for a key?" Dray lifted the lid of a small cigar box positioned on an end table.

Wells dug through a bookshelf. "I doubt it." He pulled back his hand with clumps of dust sticking to it. "Why would it be that easy?" He brushed his hands together and the dust swayed towards the floor.

Dray exhaled and walked down a darker hallway. "I wish it was," she mumbled and grabbed an open door with intent to immediately shut it. She stopped an inch before it shut and pulled it back open. Because the house turned into a museum, all interior doors had been removed.

She peered inside, but it was too dark to see. Dray brushed the walls for a light switch, but couldn't find one. Flipping on the flashlight on her phone, she stepped inside, unknowingly letting the door slowly swing close behind her. The room was definitely just a closet, or pantry and held almost nothing. Dray's excitement dwindled and with a rolling of her eyes, she turned on her heel to meet the click of the door.

Matters worsened as she twisted the doorknob and it stuck. Her heartbeat pounded in her chest. "Wells!" She hit the door with her fists. "Wells!"

The floor creaked outside the closet. "You seriously locked yourself in there?"

"Wells!" Her head dropped back so she looked to the ceiling. "How am I going to get out?" She felt silly because of her skyrocketing anxiety. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, but her plan to calm down and think of a way out proved to be unnecessary.

The door swung open to reveal Wells with some shiny little tools.

Dray's shoulders dropped and she all but fell into his arms. "You need to teach me how to do that, please." Her words muffled into his jacket. When she stepped back, an amused smile lingered on Wells' face. "Yeah, I panicked, cool." She shoved him away and walked back towards the basement stairs.

Wells' laughter followed her. "You done looking already? Too much excitement?"

She turned to face him. "I mean, yes," she crossed her arms, "but now something just feels off, and it probably is just because I locked myself in a closet, but we don't even know that letter was legit."

"We don't," he nodded, "but I agree, nothing is really screaming evidence here."

Thankful and relieved, Dray walked back down to the basement, holding her shirt over her nose the entire time and keeping her eyes locked on the cellar doors to outside.

Back at her house, Dray flopped on the couch, expecting Wells to do the same, but instead he paced. He paced a lot.

"Are you all right?" she asked, tired of following him with her eyes.

He looked at her for a couple seconds and then pointed to the door. "We need to go back tonight."

"Go back?"

"To Lockton." Wells stopped in front of her. "We need to get the pictures in the chest."

Dray's breath caught in her throat. "We can't go back. What are we going to do? Walk in and grab the damn thing?" The words tumbled out.

"We just need to go back and figure out if there is a way and then leave," he ignored her dramatics. "We'll make plan. Come on, you know we need those pictures."

Dray groaned and her head rolled into the cushions. They could not need the pictures and live a normal, quiet life. "Fine," she said. How could she say no to an actual plan?

"Tonight, then?" he asked, now busy in the kitchen putting the morning dishes into the dishwasher.

"Tonight then." She stood up and stretched her back. Apprehension bubbled in her stomach connected to her constant dismissal of danger. She ignored it and grabbed Wells' keys.

"Not to kick you out but..." she slid the keys across the counter.

He smiled and dried his hands. He snatched up his keys. "I'll see you later."

Dray followed him to the door, stumbling over her feet with a whine. His deep chuckle meshed with a goodbye as he closed the door. She let her head fall into the palm of her hand.

So smooth until the end, she thought. Her head raised to the ceiling and she took a deep breath in. A smile grazed her face.

She spun on her heel and glanced at the stack of boxes she still needed to unpack—the real reason she wanted some alone time. With newly found motivation, perhaps from how this place finally started to feel like home, Dray went to work. With her hair pulled up into a messy bun, the short wall of boxes occupying her living room were about to go down.

Dray had more plans than just unpacking the rest of her things for over four hours, but finally the wall cleared of dirt brown cardboard. She sat on the floor with her back against the wall, blowing the stray hair from her face. Her eyes closed tight and a slight layer of sweat gathered on her brow.

With a deep sigh, she sloppily stood up and looked around her living area. "Crushed it."

Her pride immediately turned into a loud growl in her stomach. Dray rubbed her belly and took to the kitchen. It was probably time to start getting ready anyway. She really needed to wash her hair.

The food and shower went much too fast for her liking, specially the food, and before Dray knew it, she was dressed in all black and ready to go. Once again, Wells' hoodie was her final piece of attire. She zipped it all the way up—something she hadn't even realized was there, having just pulled it over her head last time—and silently debated on whether or not she was going to steal it.

A knock on the door interrupted her winning argument. She stared at the door and tilted her head. Finding it odd the Wells would knock, she unzipped the sweatshirt, hoping to give off less of a stalker vibe, and opened the door.

Porter.

Dray crossed her arms over her chest as she watched his eyes scan her body. They rested on the oversized hoodie. "Porter, what can I help you with?"

His scrutiny fell to a cocky smile while his eyes lifted back to hers. "I wanted to check up on you, see if you were busy tonight?"

She dropped her arms to her sides, but one rested on the doorknob, pulling the door closer to her body and closer to being shut. "I'm doing well, but yes, I'm busy tonight."

"Doing what, if you don't mind me asking?" He didn't miss a beat.

Dray, suddenly more uncomfortable than annoyed, narrowed her gaze. "I do mind, a little bit." She tried to stay kind.

A heavy silence followed as Porter seemed to have lost his words, but before he could string anything together, a loud hum of an engine filled their ears.

"Oh," he said, looking over his shoulder, "him."

She shook her head. "Bye, Porter."

Wells brushed around him without a second glance and walked inside. Dray shut the door and leaned on it, completely ignoring the flustered man outside. "I really don't like him."

"I can tell." Wells laughed. "What happened to being polite?"

She pushed off the door. "I tried, but there's only so much a girl can take."

His laugh filled the room for a second time and Dray watched him. Her interest didn't go unnoticed and soon she could practically see his ego inflate.

"I like your hoodie," he said after a few seconds.

She did a little pose. "Me too, but," she zipped it back up, "we should probably get going, huh?"

Wells smiled and walked to the door. He checked the peephole. "He's gone, so yes, we should."

By the time Dray locked up the house, Wells already sat on his bike. She hesitated when she got to him. As an idea, she was fine with the plan, but actually executing it proved to be a mess for her stomach.

"Come on, this is the easy part." He handed her her helmet.

She tugged it over her head and climbed onto the bike. "That doesn't make me feel any better," she said and gripped around his waist. Wells took off after she got settled. She closed her eyes the entire ride.

..

[EDITED OCTOBER 9, 2021]




Don't be a silent reader! I would love to hear what is going on in your head! 

Thank you for reading! 

You are reading the story above: TeenFic.Net