fifteen ◌ livin' on a prayer

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I could never get used to this: four drab walls, three antsy boys, and the strong odor of old seafood in my nostrils. For almost ten hours we had our asses planted in our seats, devising a flawless heist. The short fifty minute break we took to walk across the street to grab seafood and vegan gumbo for dinner was only a tease, and I was itching to spend some time outside.

Of course, it didn't help that the weekend party scene right outside of our windows was as boisterous as a frat orgy. The loud music reverberated against the walls, while the cheerful hollers of drunk people clouted my concentration. Even with the powerful essence of Cajun seasoning and crab meat enveloping the hotel room, nothing was as tenacious as the scent of alcohol and bad decisions.

"Niall, what are you doing there?" I narrowed in my brows as I gawked in confusion at the boy squatting behind the wall where the bathroom was.

"Shh," Niall pressed a finger to his lips, coercing me to keep silent.

I watched his movements for the next thirty seconds before bursting into laughter. The bathroom door swung open, and just as Harry stepped out, Niall let out a high-pitched shrill. His hand grasped onto Harry's ankle, causing the frightened boy to teeter. The scream that escaped the lips of the green-eyed scaredy-cat was extra as fuck.

"What the hell is wrong with you? You're an assfuck," Harry roared. He rubbed his chest with the palm of his hand as if ebbing his heart of its mini attack.

"Actually, Liam's the ass fucker," Niall retorted. His perpetual grin never faltered, too pleased with his scare tactics.

"When you're done being being children," Liam ridiculed with a scoff. "We're still balls deep in prep."

"Can we take a break?" Niall asked earnestly. "We've been at it for hours. My head is going to explode."

"Do you not understand the importance of this task? Because I'm not sure you do— all you think about is having a good laugh," Liam chided, slamming the stack of papers onto the desk with ire.

"What's wrong with a little fun to clear our heads? Our productivity levels are decreasing the longer we're in this fucking hotel room," Niall raged.

"Dude, he's right," I backed Niall up, earning an appreciative smile from him. "I of all people understand that completing this task with flying colors is of utmost importance to save my sister, but I'm about to jump out the window if I don't get a proper hour break."

"See, Tasha is in," Niall wrapped an arm around my shoulders. "What about you Harry? Tell me you're not craving an ice cold brew on tap."

A smile creeped up on Harry's face, "a strong IPA would be nice."

"I also don't wanna fuck up whatever mojo Liam has," I supported.

"Thank you," Liam nodded.

"I mean, the three of us could go," I gestured for Niall, Harry, and myself before letting a mischievous grin etch my face. "And Liam can stay here... Alone... With the spirits."

Liam's expression melted into absolute revolt regarding my sassy suggestion. It seemed to work its magic because I could see the gears in Liam's brain turning— probably imagining all the terrible ways in which French Quarter ghosts could torment him.

"One hour," Liam held up a finger. "Two tops and after that we're getting back to work."

Elated cheers spewed out from Niall and I as we gave each other a high-five. Harry smiled, patting Liam on the back in attempt to excite him for a well-deserved break out on Bourbon Street. I was surprisingly unapologetic about my excitement, and I know it sounds demented.

How could I party when my sister was out there somewhere? How could I neglect someone who needed me so desperately? Here's the thing: I didn't think I was neglecting my sister at all. If anything, I was helping her by nourishing my mind. A couple of hours to destress myself and eliminate the parasites clawing away at my brain would only give me a clean slate to work with. It would also give me the chance to feel something other than fear for once.

Fifteen minutes and a couple of shirt changes later, the four of us ventured out of our hotel room. The night life of New Orleans was the perfect kind of stimulation, and even Liam couldn't help but to beam in response to the rowdy thrill that lay before us. People of all ages, in groups of diverse sorts, invaded the town, and I was one of them.

"Guys, try not to get too crazy," Liam was mainly eyeing Niall with a stern expression. "Lay low and if anyone sparks a conversation with you, stick to the identities on your ID's."

"Yes, daddy," I teased with a playful grin.

"Yea, yea, yea," Niall dismissed before grabbing my hand. "Come on Tasha, first round's on me."

Niall tugged onto my arm, pulling me through a bustling crowd of people. I looked back at Liam and Harry with a shrug, waving my fingers in the air before buckling into Niall's motions. He and I were in line at the bar of a prohibition era inspired pub. The dim gold lights, and industrial inspired decor was spot on, giving this space an authentic speakeasy vibe.

"I'm going to ask this question, but pretend like you weren't engaging in underaged drinking before tonight," Niall began, sparking my wonder with his words. "Is there a specific drink you enjoy?"

"Aged whiskey on the rocks," I answered stoically, staring at Niall with a blank expression.

"Oh, wow," Niall blinked his gorgeous blue eyes in shock. "You drink like an old Irishman."

I started to laugh, "I'm joking. I totally made that up. I think I read it in a book somewhere. I honestly don't have a preference. The most I've ever drank in the past was a sip of my mom's margarita and a wine cooler from my cousin's wedding."

"As it should be," Niall approved with a head nod. "Alright, let's start with something easy so you don't overload and die."

"Hey, what can I get ya?" The handsome bartender on the other side of the tabletop spoke with a smooth southern accent and I melted a little.

"Alright, I'll have the best stout you have on tap, that's not Guinness, and for the lady, let's do..." Niall's words faded as he pursed his lips, his eyes scanning the drink options in front of us. I wished I could've been more of a better help, but I honestly couldn't tell you the difference between domestic and craft.

"The wild ale," a large hand smacked against the bar top, startling me. My eyes trailed from the appendage to the boy it belonged to, and standing there was none other than Harry with a smug expression.

"What?" Niall turned his head with a raised brow.

Harry nodded towards one of the golden nozzles against the back wall, "get the Cascade Apricot Ale for... Eunice."

I cringed, causing Harry to shoot me a wink. Of all the fake names Liam could've given me, he had to go with Eunice Turnipseed. I watched Niall agree with Harry's suggestion, the bartender proceeding to grab frigid, glass pints from the refrigerator behind him. I stood in mesmerization, watching the dark, malty liquid of Niall's poison of choice waterfall into the glass from a spigot. His beverage was extremely dark in comparison to the very light fluid sloshing around in my cold vessel.

"This hits the spot," Niall took a long swig of his beer, evidently overjoyed by the alcoholic libation.

"I feel like a troll by admitting this but," Liam reluctantly smirked. "This was an ace idea."

"Yes!" Niall whooped, clinking his glass against Liam's. "Is yours alright, Tasha?"

"Very much so," I took a sip of the beer in my hand. The cold liquid was slightly bitter to the taste, but was quickly overpowered by the fruity notes that complimented well with the drink. "And you, Harry?"

"Wow, you care about my well being?" Harry taunted, dramatically resting a hand to his chest.

I rolled my eyes, "I care about the prosperity of the booze in your cup."

"It's pleasant; nothing too crazy," Harry shook the small glass cup, filled to the brim with ice and some kind of dark liquid.

And that my friends, was the beginning of our takeover.

Of course, the alcohol in our systems helped to loosen us up, but before we knew it, New Orleans became the escape we so desperately needed. Despite our extensive knowledge in specific topics, and engaging in things that the majority of people will never get to, the four of us were just kids. Granted, the boys were in their early 20's, but at the end of the day, they were just a troop of young people trying to survive— and sing obnoxiously till their lungs collapsed.

"I wanna rock and roll all night..."

The classic Kiss tune rippled through the speakers with such force, it only instigated an epic group singalong. Older folks who were alive when the rock jam toppled the charts, mixed with the younger generation who were part of a cultured rock society, sang the lyrics at the top of their lungs. Passion rumbled within their souls, and it was without a doubt quite the sight to see.

"...and party every day!"

I laughed loudly, clapping my hands with thrill as I watched Liam stand on top of a bar stool. An elderly man joined him, and the two sang together with pride— there goes keeping it low key. Harry on the other hand, was surrounded by several pretty ogling girls, who were each vying for his attention. We each were across the spectrum in drink numbers. I was only on number two but feeling real good, whereas the boys were already consuming beverage numbers between four and six.

"Hey, let me take your picture!"

"What?"

Standing with a fancy DSLR camera was a tall, pale girl with hair as red as dancing flames. She beamed at me with a smile so gorgeous, I swore my acne was cured. A University of New Orleans lanyard rested around her neck, and a small camera bag hung on her left shoulder.

"Your energy is infectious," she complimented. "May I grab a photo of you? I'm hired by the bar every weekend to snap photographs for the promoters."

"I'm not sure if I'm fond of the idea," I bit my lip shyly. "I do appreciate your compliment, though. Your smile is just as captivating."

"How about you grab a friend and take a picture with them?" She negotiated. "I'm on a fifty photo quota for the night."

"Eunice!" Harry's arm was suddenly around my shoulders, and I teetered from the unexpected impact.

"Kevin, hey," my lips slowly lifted into a small smile as Harry's pseudonym slipped past my lips.

"Let's take a picture for the sweet girl." The grin that swept across his face was filled with so much vitality, that I cocked a brow up at him, wonderment in my stare.

"There you go!" The photographer encouraged, gesturing for Harry and I. "I can take a photo of the two of you."

"On one condition though," Harry added, holding up his pointer finger.

"Okay," the girl's lips lifted into a curious smile. "What are we negotiating?"

"We'll let you take a photo of us so you can meet your quota," Harry began seriously. "But the photograph never leaves the camera and never finds itself on any form of social media. Are we clear?"

"Crystal," she smiled in understanding.

"Perfect! Get ready to press the shutter," Harry told the girl before his arm trailed down my back. He pulled me closer towards his warm body and I followed along, lacing my fingers across his shoulder.

A bright, white light flashed in my eyes, and as I blinked, blue-green orbs danced in my line of vision. I separated myself from Harry and looked over at the photographer.

"Thank you again, guys. I really appreciate you doing this for me," she nodded her head several times, almost as if the girl were bowing. When the she left, continuing her photography endeavors, I turned to Harry.

"Are you sure that was a smart idea?" I questioned. "We have fake identities here but if that photo leaks, there are people in California who know who we really are."

"Don't worry, it won't leak."

"How can you be so confident?"

"Did you notice the university lanyard hanging from her neck?" Harry asked me, and I nodded in response. "Did you also happen to notice her school badge amongst the keys?"

I shook my head, "no, but what does that have to do with her possibly leaking the photo?"

"This job is probably one of a few that pays for her school. Anyone who truly does not need the money, won't be so pressed to hit their quota" Harry reasoned. "She needs the photo for commission. Not everyone is as privileged as you, Tash."

"Why do you say it like that? I'm not some rich white girl in Beverly Hills who gets things handed to her on a silver platter," I crossed my arms above my chest and eyed Harry with a challenging glare.

"Why so defensive?" Harry smirked, cocking a brow. "Trying to mask the truth?"

My face contorted with displeasure, taken aback by Harry's sloppy assumption. The disgust flooding from my soul rushed out with such tenacity, it had the power to dropkick the dimpled asshat into the Mississippi River.

"I'm done with you," I groaned, rolling my eyes in annoyance. I curtly spun around, trudged away from Harry, and searched for better energy to surround myself in.

The other two boys were in the midst of a rowdy crowd, downing shots of hard liquor as a Bon Jovi favorite percolated through the speakers. The frenzy heightened, and yet another mass singalong ensued. The people next to me nudged my side, and coerced me to join in. It didn't take much convincing, because the 1986 hit single was electrifying enough to push my previous irritated state aside. I shook my shoulders to the beat of the song, and soon enough I was yelling the lyrics with great enthusiasm.

"Take my hand, we'll make it I swear," Niall suddenly grasped my hand and pulled me into his arms. He held me close, with one arm around my waist and the other holding my left hand.

"Ohhh, livin' on a prayer!" We sang to each other, dancing with a goofy, yet sweet twist and I felt so alive.

For the first time in a very long time, I felt calm; genuinely at peace. I knew Kat was somewhere out there, fighting for her life. I knew that Professor Dela Cruz was also in the same predicament as my baby sister, and it was my duty to save them. But I knew them both and I knew the bravery instilled in their hearts— it was unwavering.

In that very moment with Niall, dancing in the middle of a pub and singing one of my favorite songs, I couldn't help these intrinsic feelings. They spiraled out of control and out of my system. I didn't ignore the heart-pumping feelings, and instead I embraced them.

I kissed him.

I stood at the tips of my toes, grabbed Niall's face, closed my eyes, and planted a simple peck on his lips. I stepped back, gazing at the blue-eyed boy with poise, before the realization of my actions sunk in and an overwhelming wave of embarrassment flushed over me.

"Oh my God," my eyes were wide open, my mind feeling flustered by the second. "I'm so sorry."

I spun on my heel, whizzing away from Niall before he could utter a single word that could drown me in further embarrassment. Why the fuck would I kiss him? Why in my tipsy ass mind, did I feel it was okay to confirm my puppy dog crush on Niall? This was completely inappropriate, irresponsible, and I may have just fucked up our entire dynamic.

"Fuck me with a cactus," I mumbled to myself, resting my elbows on the bar top and burying my face in the palms of my hands.

"Are you alright?"

I looked up to find the handsome bartender staring at me with concern. I let out a heavy exhale and frowned at him.

"I just totally just pulled a fucktard move back there," I groaned, wincing at the sour memories of me planting a kiss on the only person I wholeheartedly trusted on this entire mission.

"You want a drink? It'll be on the house," the bartender's voice was sing-song as he tried to sway my vacillating mind. Though it didn't take too much convincing because with the way I was feeling, I was craving another glass of alcohol.

"Yea, let's do it," I pressed.

"Do you want the same beer you've been drinking?" He asked.

"Let's switch it up," I challenged. "Something a little stronger."

So with that information to go off of, the bartender shot me a sweet smile. He grabbed a glass out of the bin behind him and proceeded to come up with a concoction that would hopefully lull me into the depths of memory obliteration. When the bartender pushed the glass cup towards me, filled with a pretty pink liquid, I took the potion in my hand.

"I hope you enjoy it," the bartender nodded his head before walking away to tend to another guest.

Gazing down at the cup, I shook it slightly to mix its contents before cloaking my lips against the glass rim. I sipped the mixture, delighted with its fruity, citrus taste. Whatever alcohol in the cup, was either nonexistent, or masked entirely by whatever solvent used to compliment the liquor. I kept to myself, trying to avoid the likes of Niall long enough to gain composure to look him in the eyes. As I did so, I gazed at my surroundings, seeing nothing but cheer envelop the pub.

Until my eyes landed on a peculiar scene.

Liam was tucked away in a corner of the bar, arguing with some woman. The two of them eyed one another with anger, spewing words I couldn't hear, nor understand by attempting to read their lips. I continued to eye them suspiciously, trying to decipher under what circumstances could Liam and this mystery woman be arguing. As I pondered to myself, something else caught my focus.

"Kat?"

My sister stared straight at me with fear dancing in her eyes, some man in a black suit holding her by the collar. Mania summoned me and I catapulted towards my sister, dropping the drink in my hand. The glass exploded upon impact, its contents splashing across the floor.

"Kat!" I yelled, pushing my way through the throngs of drunk people. "Kat?"

She was gone. First, I thought it was the amount of alcohol in my system. I was not a drinker and therefore my tolerance was incredibly low. But the image of my sister was so real, I swore she was in the same room. So I spun around, searching for Kat with great determination. I darted my focus to all areas of the bar, until I saw a signature, black ponytail. Swallowing any ounce of fear I had in me, I ran after Kat at full speed. I rushed through the pub, bumping into Harry and accidentally spilling his beverage all over himself.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Aquino?!" He raged. "Tash!"

I ignored his calls, stepping out into the evening air. The street was packed with party-goers, and due to my size, it was almost impossible to see over the mass of people. However for me, I knew how to solve that tiny obstacle. Up— I climbed the iron lattice fixture, scaling it till I was on the edge of the balcony. I threw one leg over the barricade and climbed over. The vantage point was perfect, and the second story gave me an advantage.

"Found ya," I whispered to myself, catching Kat struggle in the arms of the suited man.

Across the way, with about ten feet of distance between me and the fire escape of the next building, I decided to make the jump. I climbed on top of the balcony's iron railing, positioning myself directly in front of where I needed to land. This leap into danger was nothing for me— I'd done several jumps like this in the past, some far more crazier than this. So when I held my breath and shot myself towards the fire escape like a slingshot, I expected to land smoothly.

Spoiler alert: I didn't.

I missed by half a foot, but that's all it took for me tumble towards the asphalt. A frightened shrill escaped my lips as I prepared myself to do damage to my body. But luck seemed to be by my side, and instead of going splat, I fell graciously into a pair of incredibly strong arms.

"Tash, what the fuck?" Harry scolded when I landed into him. As he regained his footing, he glared furiously at me. "What are you trying to do?"

"Harry, h-help me," I stammered, trying to fumble my way out of his arms. "My sister. They have Kat!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Harry questioned. Despite my attempts to liberate myself from Harry's grasp, he only gripped me tighter.

"Kat's h-here. Some man h-has her," I struggled to get the words out as I struggled to see straight. Everything was morphing into one huge canvas of sludge. The beams of lights were being pulled in all directions, while the loud music gradually muffled its way into nonexistence.

"Hey, are you okay? Tasha, look at me. Come on baby girl, open your fucking eyes. Tasha!" Harry looked at me with deep concern, and his green eyes were the last thing I saw till darkness completely enveloped me.

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» author's note «

That manip took me 300 years and four pizza Hot Pockets to make. Definitely not the best in comparison to the others out there, but I'm pretty proud of it. I've been playing with Photoshop more and more these days, so I decided to make some manips for this story.

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