Ayla didn't give me the details apart from driving down Quarter's Peak too distracted by the drunken frenzy in her head. The docks were an hour away. We made it in forty-five.
Sierra stood up and met us half-way, her denim jacket the only thing keeping her warm. The dress she wore wasn't exactly built for a stroll under the stars. What the hell was she doing out here all alone?
She squints expecting Ayla's car to greet her. Too bad her cousin decided to play who can get buzzed the fastest.
When she realized I was behind the wheel, her footsteps come to a stop.
I've barely put the car in park when Ayla and I jump out, ready to beat the s**t out of someone, albeit, Ayla drunkly.
She doesn't make it to Sierra, hanging back with her hands settled on the side of the car to stop from swayi
