I watch as Cook walks away from me, his previous words still stinging the air.

"Where's your edgy friend, what is it, Elizabeth? She looks like less of a dry arse, she certainly has a nice arse."

I look down at the ground and watch Cook's discarded cigarette slowly burn out, the smoke wafting into the air, embers scattered about.

I don't know why I'm so bothered by what he said. He was right. I was being a dry arse. I don't know why I'm choosing to be so difficult. I thought boys usually like all that playing hard to get shit.

He's different, Eve.

I sigh and stamp on the dying cig, dragging it against the pavement with the sole of my shoe. I glance up again to notice that Cook was now gone.

There's a pit in my stomach. I don't know why. I know he only said that to get a rise out of me. Right?

I run my hands through my hair and sigh. I pull out my packet of cigs because I'm now in desperate need for one. I feel around in my pocket for my lighter when I realise Cook still has it.

Shit.

There's no way I'm getting it off him. He can keep it.

I tut in frustration and put the cigarette back in it's pack. I start walking in the direction of my house again, kicking the gravel in the process.

I left school early today because I was sitting in class, when I realised how pointless it is. I know technically it isn't actually pointless but the teacher didn't even show to class and everyone was so loud and getting on my nerves. I had to get out of there.

So I just grabbed my stuff and walked out of the school. I was on my way home when Cook then interrupted me.

I must admit, I was relieved that he just so happened to be bunking off school also. When he came up behind me I knew straightaway I had to act uninterested, because god forbid someone would see me showing any signs of interest in a teenage boy.

I regret acting like that now, because realistically, I was secretly hoping he'd walk with me the whole way home.

He'd insist on coming into my house, I'd laugh and say no. He'd persist, I'd roll my eyes and sigh and say "fine" and let him in, and we'd sit at opposite ends of the kitchen table and look at each other and just talk.

Instead, he's most likely off to find Effy. According to what he said anyways. I like to pretend I'm not bothered but I know that's just a lie. I want to get to know this boy. I want to crack his code, really see what he's all about.

Something tells me the little 'bad boy fuck everyone and everything' thing he has going on is just an act.

I may be very wrong, but it's worth a shot.

-

I breathe out as I slam the front door behind me. I rub my temples as I set my phone and the house keys on the small table beside the door, and make my way into the kitchen.

My house is small. The interior is nothing special either, but it's still my home. I live with my two older brothers; Milo, who is 20, and Charlie, who just turned 24. My mum cleared off ages ago with some random bloke I've never met. I still talk to her, I just haven't seen her in a while.

My dad used to live with us, but around a year ago him and Charlie had a massive argument resulting in my dad staying in a hotel for a night, which then turned into multiple nights.

He came back to us after five days to collect his stuff and to tell us that we're old enough to fend for ourselves now, and he's moving somewhere nice, not sure where yet, and he's still always here for us if we need anything.

I haven't spoke to him since. It's okay though, me and him never really got along. I don't know where he is currently. All I know is that Charlie still feels guilty for it. I don't think it's his fault though, I think dad was looking for an excuse to leave. Him and dad used to actually get along well, but the year before the argument they kept getting on each other's nerves, and I guess it all eventually just blew up at once.

I feel the worst for Milo, though. He was always so close with dad. It killed him to hear that dad wasn't coming back. He'd ring him every day, wait by the door every night, hoping dad would walk through the door, having changed his mind. This went on for a good month. When he didn't come back, Milo went a bit off the rails. He started trying loads of different drugs, and eventually went on to selling them.

He dealt mostly weed, occasionally mdma if he needed the extra cash, and on special occasions, coke. He's sorted me with a few bags here and there if I was in need. Although it was wrong, it was a source of income and he made much more than Charlie did at the time.

It started to become a problem, though. Milo started to come home every night with new bruises all over his body and freshly bloodied knuckles. It took him being knocked unconscious and being put into hospital for him to finally realise how dangerous it was becoming. He quit selling, paid off his debts, and got a job at Lidl.

I don't think he's clean yet. I'm still proud of him nonetheless. He got out before it got too serious.

Chaz works as an electrician. He works really hard to provide for us, seeing as he's the main source of income. Dad still sends us money regularly, but sometimes he can miss a pay check. Mum will send us cash every few months, maybe twice a year. Basically when remembers that she actually has children.

I stare off into space as I wait for the kettle to boil. I snap back into focus when I hear thumping coming down the stairs. I internally groan, I forgot Milo wasn't working today.

"Hiya," he greets me cheerily, bursting into the kitchen, balancing three empty mugs in his hands.

"Hi, Milo," I mumble, a small smile on his face. Milo's moods are unpredictable. He's generally very bright and happy, because he's usually whacked off his head or stoned (or both), but his mood can very easily go south if told the wrong thing.

"How was school then," he questions, pushing past me to put his mugs in the sink. "Remind me to wash them later," he adds.

I nod at him. "Dunno, I bunked off after two hours," I shrug, placing two teabags into mugs.

"Oh?" He responds, his answer muffled by a slice of plain white bread that is now in his mouth. "We need more bread," he adds, pointing with another slice at the almost empty packet.

I sigh. "Maybe we'd have some if you didn't eat it all," I glance at him, and he sticks his tongue out and reveals it being covered in mushy bread.

I pretend to gag. "You're disgusting," I chuckle, and he grins at me in response.

"I prefer the term repulsive," he says, swallowing his bread and drumming his fingers on the table, his eyes darting around the place.

I can't tell if he's on something right now. His pupils look normal but his behaviour is abnormal. When I think about it though, Milo's behaviour is always abnormal, sober or not.

I place a mug of tea in front of him. "Ta, love," he nods, pulling the mug toward him. "Can you get the milk while you're standing?"

I nod and retrieve the almost empty carton of milk out of the fridge. I shake it pitifully and pour a couple drops each into our tea. I sit back down and stir my tea in silence, the sound of the spoon clinking against the ceramic filling the kitchen.

"So why did you bunk off on your first day?" Milo asks me, his eyebrows raised as he takes a sip out of his mug.

I shrug, still stirring. "Just shit," I sigh.

He nods. "Fair."

"Chaz is gonna kill you though," he adds.

"He won't if we don't tell him," I respond.

I watch as Milo pulls out his grinder and a small baggie with a little nugget of weed inside. "Wasn't planning on telling him, Evie," he mumbles, putting the weed in the grinder and twisting the top.

Neither of us say anything as he focuses on making his joint. He grunts at me to pass him the packet of rolling papers on the counter behind me, and grunts a thanks in response when I slide them across the table toward him.

"Want some?" He offers, his face a look of pure concentration as he sticks the skins.

I nod in response.

"Get the lighter then, we'll have it outside."

"Won't Charlie want some?" I ask as Milo finishes rolling the spliff by twisting the open end so nothing falls out.

He shakes his head. "He has heaps anyways. If he wants some he can make his own," he states plainly as he opens the back door. He motions with his hand at me. "Ladies first."

I smile as I walk past and we head toward the bottom of the garden, our usual smoking spot.

Milo places the joint between his lips. "Light me," he mumbles through the spliff.

I flick the lighter and hold the flame against the twisted end till it burns past the twist and lights the actual joint. He takes a long pull, keeping the smoke in his mouth for a while, before exhaling. He takes a couple more tokes before passing it to me.

"You seem a bit down, girl," he comments, his green eyes searching my face. "Boy hassle?"

I nod. I always confide in my brothers with any problem I have. "The boy wasn't really hassling me though, I pissed him off. He doesn't even care about me. I've known him about three hours," I sigh, fiddling with the spliff between my fingers.

"What's his name?"

I look at him, passing the joint back to him. "You wouldn't know him," I pause, as he pulls on the joint. "It's Cook."

Milo's eyes widen and he splutters on his smoke. "No way!" He exclaims through his coughs. "I know him. He's fucking mad."

I groan. "Of course you'd know him."

Milo laughs. "Yeah, love the kid," he replies. "He's bit annoying at times, he lives every minute like it's his last. So you can assume he's a lot of work."

"How do you know him?" I question my brother, already regretting telling him about Cook.

"I used to be his dealer," he grins. "Then when he turned 16 he started getting into night clubs and I met him a good few times. Funny lad, zero common sense though."

I nod absent-mindedly.

Perfect. I'll never hear the end of this one.