The car sat running in the parking lot outside the liquor store. Maddox waited inside the car while Pylar ran inside, pretending that becoming 21 a week ago suddenly instilled a newfound confidence inside of him. The funny thing about birthdays was they're just another day out of the year and hitting that yearly milestone didn't magically make you a different person. Not usually, anyways. Pylar wished it had brought on an ignited, day-to-day sense of confidence and not whatever he was going through hormonally. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead as he eyed the selection of alcohol in his basket. He made a face at the alarming amount of brightly colored bottles within; some blue raspberry something or another, a deep, rose wine, and his personal favorite... Snickers vodka. On his way to the register, his fingers hooked on the handle of the manliest six-pack of beer--the package read BearThorn and had the image of a grizzle bear standing on its hind legs, holding a knife in one paw and a dear's neck in itd mouth--and he steped up to the counter. He didn't make eye contact as he sets the bottles down one by one, ending with the beer. His gaze wandered to a nearby display filled to the brim with dark liquor, whiskeys and rum, the kind of booze that burns your throat like acid and singes your nostril hair-

"This everything?" the cashier said.

Pylar scanned the aisles behind him. It’s not like he had never had alcohol before. It was just limited to whatever they could steal from their parents or convince Maddox’s sister to buy for them. But it was the first time he had ever set foot inside a liquor store, and technically he was buying for someone underage, even if that someone was just Maddox. He was waiting for someone to jump out and call him in the act and haul him off to jail. He’d have to call his mom from hundreds of miles away from home and have her sell a kidney to bail him out. There was an electricity about the air that burned at his ears and he rubbed at them. It might've relieved the hot feeling for a second, but soon it came back and spread under his eyes and across his nose. He pressed his hand to his face, checking his cheeks for heat and they were hot; he couldn't imagine what he looked like. As a normal, pale ginger, he'd always looked cartoonishly warm, like a lobster, whenever he was hot or embarrassed.

"This everything?" the cashier repeated herself, louder, with a snap of her gum for emphasis.

"Yes." Pylar turned back around and placed his hands on the counter. "Uh, yes. That's everything." He peeked over his shoulders again. Would he just run if someone tried to call him out? Or stick around to wait for the cops to show up?

"I'll need to see your ID."

"Hm?"

"Your ID."

Pylar forced his undivided attention on the cashier. She was tiny, petite, and there was a stool behind the counter to assist her in grabbing cartons from the taller rows on the cigarette rack. Right then it was a resting spot for her phone and open pack of gum. Heavy, black hair drapes down her shoulders and back, parted perfectly in the middle of her scalp to frame her sharp features. If he didn’t think it would be taken the wrong way he would have made a mildly awkward joke about their comparably pale complexions. Except he also didn’t want to be called out on his likely splotchy, lobster skin at the moment either. He placed his ID on the counter and pushed it towards her. With a smirk, she grazed her long nails across the back of his hand to take it. The subtle, purple sheen reflected on the surface of her black manicure, the pointed tips dragging across his skin pulled goosebumps up along his entire arm and he quickly jerked away.

She took her sweet, sweet time in looking his card over. All she needed to do was check his face and the date of birth, right? There wasn't anything else that could've been wrong, right? Was there some kind of, 'you may now purchase alcohol' stamp he needed to get at the DMV after he turned 21 that he didn't know about? was there some kind of restriction or maybe the picture he got two years ago didn't look enough like him anymore and she'd think it was a fake. Or maybe alcohol stores made you wait like, a month after turning to make sure you didn't overdo yourself at the tap in the same way that a lot of gun shops had a waiting period to make sure you weren't buying a weapon out of passionate.

The ID flopped onto the counter and she popped a large, pink bubble. "My name's Sarah, bee-tee-dubs."

Pylar reached for his card quietly and offered up a polite smile, but nothing more.

Sarah put her hand on top of his and gently squeezed. She lifted herself onto her toes and leaned over the counter and her hair spilled forward, grazing his bare arm. "I'm only 25. It's not that much older than you."

Soft heat and electricity pressed into Pylar's skin. He drew his hand away and slid his ID back into his wallet.

"Does that bother you?" Sarah leaned back and started to scan the bottles one at a time. Each beep was followed by the wet smack of her open-mouthed chewing.

Pylar pressed his fingers to his face, pretending to scratch an itch. "Should it bother me?" the words caught in his tight throat. Through a pair of double glass doors he could see one of the headlights of his car and Maddox bobbing his head. It's not that he was interested in her in some weird way. It was the weird attention and the increase of heat entering the air; it was hard to describe, but it reminded him of that night at the club, of the sinful church and it's equally morally questionable preacher, with his hands on Pylar's hips, asking him what he wanted.

Sarah was focused on Pylar as she piled the bottles in a thick, paper bag, jostling them together. "I can tell that it bothers you, but it really shouldn't. 25 isn't old. It's a little mature. If anything, it means I have bigger tits than other girls you might know who are closer to your age."

Pylar's brows ticked upwards and foolishly took the bait. His gaze dropped. Sarah's didn't have much of a figure; skinny to the point where she had little shape at all, like she didn't each much at all.

"You know what age does to women? It shines us, like pearls." Sarah dropped her hand onto the counter and leaned forward. She glanced over her shoulder toward an open doorway behind her. "I'm working for the next couple of hours, but I could take a break if you wanted to explore what being with an older woman is like." She reached out for Pylar's shirt collar, but he stepped back before she could hook her nails in the fabric.

"No, no. I'm fine." He tossed his debit card onto the counter. "Sorry — I've got someone waiting in the uh, in the car. I can't really — I've got plans."

"Oh." She dropped her hand and picked up the card. "Bummer. Girlfriend?"

"No."

"Boyfriend?" Sarah stretched the gum over the end of her tongue.

"What? No. We're just friends."

"I can entertain him too if you're worried about him being bored."

"We have plans." Pylar kept his eyes down and grabbed his bag off the counter. His heel bounced as he waited for his card, and time felt like it was slowing around him; Sarah popped another bubble, the door opened with a soft ding and a noisy groan. The receipt printed out of the machine.

Sarah slapped the receipt onto the counter and plucked a pen out of a nearby cup. She wrote at the bottom of the receipt before handing it to Pylar along with his debit card. "In case you change your mind," her fingers brushed against his hand and she grabbed hold of his wrist for a second. Pylar straightened out, his every muscle tense and alert. He looked up to her and she stared into his eyes. Her breathing switched to soft panting as her hand pulled, holding him harder. "I can come to you."

Pylar's skin heated and the heat spread from where Sarah touched his skin. It moved down his arm quickly like it was traveling through his blood. It warmed his shoulders, then his chest, and he felt a mild sense of something to fill his head. He wasn't sure what it was; it was a blurry feeling, buzzing in his mind that also calmed him and warmed every bit inside of him. In a way, it felt like desire and it also felt like hunger; suddenly he needed to eat; he was starving and this was making him hungrier, like walking into a restaurant after not eating anything all day and being hit with the hard scent of cooking beef, hamburgers, fries, vegetables roasted to perfection. Pylar's eyes fluttered closed and he leaned gently against the counter. Lips moving, it took a moment for the sound to come out, though there were no words, only incoherent mumbling until he felt her hand move up his arm.

The heated fingers put a jolt in his body; the warmth inside of him sped down and filled parts of him Pylar had never felt anything in before. He yanked his arm back and stumbled away from the counter, hugging the bag of alcohol to his chest.

Sarah leaned back and opened her eyes. A smile spread on her thin lips and she kept her eyes trained on him. "That was wild," she said. She walked around the checkout counter and stepped down from the raised platform. "You want to try it again?" She walked closer, but every step she took, Pylar took one back in reflection. When he had a clear shot, he made a run for the door without saying another word to her.

Maddox looked up from his phone as Pylar knocked on his window. He quickly turned the music low and rolled the window down with a wide, toothy grin. "You get the goods?" He was cut off as the bag of alcohol was roughly thrust through the open window and into his arms. The smile was wiped from his face as Pylar, visibly anxious, stiffly walked around to the drivers seat and got into the car. "Uh...Py-" He fumbled with his seatbelt as Pylar started the car and peeled out of the lot without buckling himself in. "Did everything go alright?"

"You still have the hotel in the GPS?"

Maddox lowered the bag from his lap to the floor between his feet. He held his phone in his hand, the map pulled up and directions already started. "The way you came out, you think you'd robbed the place." Maddox chuckled.

A nervous smile flitted across Pylar's lips. "It was just...a little nerve-wracking." He tightly grabbed onto the steering wheel with both hands.

Maddox lifted his phone though he continued side-eye stare at Pylar. "We'll get back on the highway up here," he said without looking away.

Pylar's shoulders hurt from how tense he was, but he couldn't think of a way to get himself to relax. He couldn't get that momentary feeling or her face, or the way she followed him around the store out of his head; no one had ever done that to him before. It was persistent. It was aggressive. It was... it was definitely sexual even if he'd never had that kind of sexual interaction before. The car started to ding insistently in time with the flashing seatbelt light on the dash, and it continued to chime until Pylar caved and buckled himself in.

Maddox inched the music up a bit to try and alleviate the awkward silence. "Are you sure you're okay?" As they merge onto the highway the car rocks, the glass bottles clink together against his legs.