All Night Long
Request: Imagine meeting Juice in a carpark at 3am and he’s worried about your safety and it makes you cry a bit because you feel like you have no one to call a friend anymore and Juice stays with you all day.
It wasn’t unusual for your best friend to turn up at your house unannounced. But usually you were home when she did.
You parked your car in the driveway and hopped out, slinging your bag over your shoulder and bumping the door shut with your hip.
Knowing her, she’d probably forgot to pay her power bill or buy groceries and was taking full advantage of your open door policy. You didn’t mind, because when your cupboards weren’t stocked, or your water was running cold you knew you could turn to her.
You only hoped that she hadn’t woken up George. Your fiancé had had a late night at work on the night shift and you had slipped out as silently as you could when you left for work this morning.
But the office had been quiet and your boss had decided to let you all go home early.
You walked quickly to the front door, humming to yourself as you went and you swung the door shut behind you before dropping your bag to the floor.
“You better not be eating my oreos!”
You kicked off your shoes and walked into the lounge.
No one was in there.
You headed for the kitchen and when you saw that it was empty too you frowned and put your hands on your hips.
And that was when you heard it.
Coming from down the hall.
You gulped and almost instantly felt sick to your stomach.
With careful footsteps you crept down the hallway.
You took another step.
Two more steps.
One more step.
You stopped outside your bedroom door.
With a shaking hand you turned the door knob slowly, careful not to make any noise.
You took a deep breath and threw the door open.
It was almost comical, the way they jumped, their eyes open wide like a deer caught in headlights.
Scrambling to grab at the sheets and cover their naked bodies.
Their mouths bobbing open like fucking goldfish.
Your fiancé, in bed with your best friend. Your best friend, in bed with your fiancé.
Your best friend.
You want to deny the nightmare before you; it just had to be a nightmare, right?
Not him. Not her.
You had always thought you’d known what you would do in a situation like this. You thought you’d fly into a rage, pummel his chest with your fists, drag her out of your bed by her hair, scream until your throat was raw.
But you didn’t do any of those things.
You stood, frozen with shock, only able to stare.
In the faint distance you hear George, stuttering his explanation.
The cliche ‘its not what it looks like’ as he stands, clutching the pillow to his crotch as if you’d never seen his dick before.
Now she was scrambling, wrapping the sheet around her naked body as she slid off the bed.
You saw her lips, mouthing ‘it just sort of happened’ and ‘it doesn’t mean anything’ but you didn’t hear her.
You didn’t hear him pleading with you.
Your mind was racing but you still stood, unmoving.
“We didn’t mean for this to happen!”
Something snapped inside you and you slid the ring off your finger, throwing it in his face before clenching your fist and swinging it into his jaw.
“Fuck you!” You screamed.
“Fuck both of you!”
“Come on, (y/n). Cheer up.”
“Cheer up?! Are you fucking kidding me Chelsea?”
Your sister rolled her eyes and slammed another shot before forcing a glass into your hand.
“I didn’t mean it like that. Just ya know, maybe its time to move on.”
“Jesus christ.” You took the shot and gestured to the bartender for another round. “You do realise I was engaged, right? To be married?”
“Look, I get its a shitty situation. He’s a scumbag and she’s a hoe. I get it. But you cant dwell on it forever.”
“Its been a week.”
“Thats six days too long, babe.”
You both took a shot.
“Plus, I never liked him anyway.” She shrugged.
“He wasn’t right for you. He wears crocs, (y/n). In public.”
You laughed and took another shot before spinning on your stool and looking around the bar.
“What am i gonna do?”
“Get drunk. Fuck a stranger.” Chelsea shrugged.
“Great advice, sis.” You rolled your eyes. “Really though, where do I go from here?”
Your sister sighed and turned in her seat too and she leant back against the abr.
“Honestly? I don’t know what you’re gonna do. But I know who Im gonna do.”
She winked at you and slinked off her chair, walking confidently to the table at the back of the room, where three guys sat.
You sighed and ordered another shot. For now, you were allowed to feel sorry for yourself.
“Your call has been redirected to a prerecorded voice messaging system. Please-“
You hit end and sighed.
Why was it that no one ever answered the phone when you needed them too.
It was the third number you’d tried. First, you’d tried Sarah, your friend. And then another friend, but she had sent you to voicemal. And then you’d tried Susan from work. God you didn’t even fucking like Susan, but you just needed someone to talk to.
As much as you loved your sister, and her coping methods, you just needed to voice your thoughts.
Nothing was making any sense anymore and no matter how much you drank you couldn’t wipe the memory of that day from replaying in your mind.
You didn’t know which betrayal was worse.
Absentmindedly you rubbed the spot on your finger where your ring used to sit. At least you hadn’t married him yet. Thats gotta be a positive, right? Silver lining or some shit.
You looked up from your spot on the bathroom counter and sighed.
You couldn’t hide in the bathroom of a bar forever.
“Just a sec!”
You splashed some water on your face and dabbed it dry wiht a paper towel before you headed back to the table.
“(Y/n)! Where’d you go?!”
You slid back into the booth next to your drunk sister, who threw her arms around you.
The guys from earlier had been shouting drinks all night, and all though you didn’t mind their company, all you wanted was to hang out with your sister. Alone.
“So, (y/n), tell me about yourself.” The guy in front of you smiled. TIm, you think his name was.
“Id rather not.” You sighed.
Chelsea nudged your arm and you rolled your eyes.
“(Y/n) here just got out of a shitty relationship.”
You frowned and the guys looked at you curiously.
“He cheated on her.” Chelsea whispered, loudly. Vodka always did go straight to her head.
“With her best friend!”
You lifted the glass in front of you and downed it before slamming it down on the table.
“Well you know what they say,” Tim said, a smirk on his face.
You looked at him with raised eye brows, an unamused look on your face.
“The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.”
“Im going home.”
Chelsea grabbed your arm and tugged you back into your seat but you shook her off.
“Are you coming?”
Chelsea looked between you and the guys who were watching her expectantly.
“Im gonna stay, sis. You should too!”
You turned your back and headed out of the club, trying- but failing to ignore the laughter coming from the table and tears stung at your eyes.
For a moment you considered ordering another round of drinks and getting black out wasted.
But everything in this bar was becoming too much; the Bon Jovi blasting through the speakers, the clinking of glasses, the raised voices battling to be heard over each other.
You decided against it and headed for the door.
The night air hit you and you tugged your jacket tighter around yourself.
You walked to the carpark and sat down on the curb, pulling out your phone and dialled for a taxi.
The operator told you there’d be an hour wait, and after trying the only other cab company in the area and being told the same thing, you sighed and booked it anyway.
Why had your sister dragged you to the bar furthest from your motel?!
It was too far to walk, and you didn’t really have the energy.
Looks like you’d just have to wait.
You tried the lighter again, hoping desperately to see a flame but just like last time the lighter sparked before dying out.
“Need a light?”
You jumped and turned to look behind you.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I just um.. I have a lighter,” The guy said, holding out an old zippo lighter and a warm smile on his face.
You flashed him a smile and took the lighter. Your hand met his and you couldn’t help but notice how warm they were.
You lit your cigarette. It was your fifth smoke since you’d come outside but you always smoked like a prostitute when you were angry. or nervous. Or drunk, for that matter.
“Are you waiting for someone?” He asked.
You passed the lighter back to him and he shoved it deep into the pocket of his hoodie.
“Cab.” You answered and took a long drive. “They said it’d be an hour. But that was well over an hour ago.”
“Huh.” He sat down next to you.
You turned to him and raised an eyebrow.
“You shouldn’t be out here by yourself, I’ll wait with you.”
“Its okay. I’ll be fine, really.”
“I dont mind.” His smile was warm and he seemed genuine. You shrugged and he pulled his own pack of cigarettes out of his pockets.
You looked at him and this time you really took him in.
His mohawk, his tribal tattoos on either side, the plain black hoodie he wore. His warm brown eyes.
You both sat in silence as you smoked, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.
He smiled warmly at you. “Juan Carlos.”
You smiled back at him. “You really don’t need to wait with me, Im sure they wont be long.”
“Its fine, really. Pretty girl like you shouldn’t be on these streets alone.”
You blushed and looked away.
The streetlights shone down on you, illuminating your features and Juice studied you the best he could without staring.
Why did he even care? He didn’t know you. Why did some stranger seem to care more about you then your own friends and family.
The emotions you’d been fighting to hold in all week suddenly washed over you and you turned away as a tear rolled down your cheek.
Juice took once last drag of his cigarette before flicking the butt into the gutter. He heard a sniffle and noticed your shoulders slowly shaking.
For a second he was alarmed. What had he done?!
He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable but he couldn’t just ignore you crying.
Fuck it, he thought.
He didn’t speak. He just wrapped his arms around you and held you tightly.
Which only seemed to make you cry harder and he rocked you slowly.
“Fuck.” You laughed humourlessly and wiped your tears away.
You turned to him. His brown eyes were filled with worry and a sad smile was on his lips.
He looked into your eyes. God, there was something so beautiful about eyes that have just cried. Glistening with unshed tears and wet lashes, like an open window into your soul.
He was overwhelmed by the emotion you held in your eyes. Your face was almost blank, but when he looked into your eyes he felt every emotion that had washed over you. Your eyes betrayed you, letting him see all the pain you’d been fighting so hard to hold in.
He rubbed your back gently before pulling away and rummaged through his pockets.
You looked away, cursing yourself for breaking down in front of the cute Puerto Rican boy.
When you looked back he had a joint in his hands and he gave you a sheepish grin.
You laughed and he lit it, taking a long drag before offering it to you.
“Yeah,” You shrugged and took it between your fingers. “I mean, I haven’t in years. My fiancé hates it.”
You blew out a long cloud before shaking your head.
“Not any more.”
He nodded slowly and silence fell between you once more, as you passed the joint back and forth.
“Everythings so fucked up.”
Juice stood, tossing the burnt out roach into the street.
He held out his hand and you looked up at him with raised eyebrows.
“Come on,” He smiled. “You can tell me everything over pancakes.”
You smiled and bit your lip, checking the street to make sure your cab hadn’t finally arrived. It hadn’t, and you were strangely relieved.
“Its 3am. Is anything even open?”
He nodded. “Theres an all-night diner in the next street. They do this thing called the Juan Carlos special. Some genius invented it, its world famous. You really should try it.”
You grinned and took hold of his warm hand and he pulled you up, that goddamned smile all over his face.
“Jesus.” You whispered under your breath as the waitress placed the food on your table.
Two plates each loaded with a four inch stack of pancakes, two waffles, a jug of maple syrup, banana, whipped cream, and a shit ton of bacon. The ‘Juan Carlos Special’.
Juice grinned and tucked in, stabbing into the pile of bacon with his fork.
“You not hungry?” He asked with a mouthful of pancake.
You laughed and shook your head. “I don’t know where to start.”
“Bacon. Always start with bacon.”
You picked up your fork and stabbed a piece of bacon, moaning when the flavour hit your tongue.
Juice grinned across the table.
“So, tell me everything.”
“You really wanna know?” You sighed.
He shrugged and lifted the jug or maple syrup and poured the whole thing onto his plate.
“Only if you want to.” He waved a forkful of pancake in the air. “Look, I’m shit at giving advice. But sometimes it helps, ya know. Talking to a stranger. Outside perspective and all that.”
“He fucked my best friend.” You blurted out.
He paused, forkful of pancake hallway to his mouth.
And just like that you opened up. You told him everything. You told him about your best friend and how you’d met in kindergarten. You told him about your teenage years where you and her would get up to all kinds of mischeif. You told him about the first time you met your fiancé, about your relationship, about the proposal and moving in together. Everything. Right down to when you opened that door and saw her riding his dick.
And he listened. Like, really listened. He hung off every word, asked you questions, interrupted you with mutters of ‘douchbag’ and ‘asshole’.
“So my sister dragged me out tonight to try cheer me up but she ditched me for some random guys. And no one else answered their phones.” You sighed. “I just feel like I have no one.. ya know? Like Ive lost everything.”
“Gimme your phone.” Juice said and pushed away his now empty plate.
You raised an eyebrow.
“You buy me pancakes and then rob me?”
He chuckled and held out his hand.
With a roll of your eyes you handed him your cell phone.
His fingers went to work and you watched him.
You didn’t even know this kid. And yet he was here for you; more than any of your friends had been. He had listened more than your own sister. He made you feel so.. comfortable.
You looked away from him and eyed the diner. Its checkered floors, shiny red booths, CocaCola posters from the fifties framed on the walls. Neon lights hung in the window and near the back was an old jukebox playing some Meatloaf balled.
He handed you back your phone and you glanced at the screen.
New Contact. Juice.
“My friends call me Juice.” He explained.
You hit edit on the screen. “I prefer Juan, if you don’t mind?”
His whole face lit up and he was thankful you were too busy looking at your screen to notice the blush creeping up his neck.
“Whenever you need anything. Talk, or pancakes. Call me.”
“Thank you, Juan. Really.” You smiled.
“Anytime. So tell me, how do you feel about revenge?”
“Are you seriously breaking in?” You hissed.
He shushed you and you glanced around nervously while he hovered over the lock.
“Juan, seriously. Im not really keen on getting arrested.”
He sniggered and pushed the door open before reaching inside and flicking the light switch.
“Calm down, (y/n). You aint a crim just yet.”
He pulled you inside and shut the door behind you.
Your eyes widened as you took in the room; the pristine white walls, bob marley posters. Shelves stacked with different jars and bongs. And of course, that undeniable smell.
“So you work here or something?”
He shook his head and headed behind the counter.
“Nah, I own it.”
“Seriously? You own Clear Passages?”
“Sorta.” He shurgged. “Twenty percent anyway.”
You nodded and paced the store,your arms swinging by your sides as eyed the different strands on the shelves.
Juice rummaged under the counter.
“You sure you wanna do this?” He asked as he pulled out the container he had been searching for.
You bit your lip and nodded.
Juice searched your face for any uncertainty before nodding and sliding the container into his pocket.
He turned and grabbed a sachet of the shelf behind him before heading out from behind the counter.
“C’mon.” He grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the exit, flicking off the light as he went.
You entered the street and he locked the door behind the two of you.
“Its too far to walk, and I don’t have my car. The cabs-“
“I’ll take us.” Juice interrupted.
You walked in silence, Juice leading the way.
The streets were becoming quiet as the early hours of the morning rolled in and you shoved your hands deep into the pockets of your jacket.
You neared a gas station and Juice pointed into the car park next door.
“My rides the one in the corner, you can wait there if ya want?”
He headed inside and you nodded, stopping at a vending machine and pressing the button for a can of coke.
The can dropped and you reached inside and lifted it out. You cracked the lid open as you walked and took a sip.
The car park was nearly empty and Juice had pointed to the corner.
You lit a cigarette before perching on the hood of the sedan and leant back, studying the stars shining in the night sky.
A few minutes later Juice left the store, plastic bag in his hand and you propped yourself up on your elbows as he neared.
He sat on the hood next to you and took a sip of the coke you offered him.
“His house or hers first?”
“His. He works nights so he wont be home.”
Juice nodded and leant back against the car and you both looked up at the stars.
“Whose car is this?”
You turned to him, your brows furrowed together.
“You pointed to it.”
He shook his head, an amused look in his eyes.
“I pointed to that.”
You looked where he pointed to the carpark next to you. The carpark occupied with a Harley Davidson Dyna.
You slid off the car and glanced between the bike and Juice, who was now smirking at you.
You walked around the bike and immediately noticed the fuel tank. More accurately, you noticed the M16 with the Grim Reaper scythe on a pole, and the words that made you freeze. ‘Sons Of Anarchy’.
You turned back to him, eyes slightly wide.
“Your in a gang?! Jesus, you don’t look like a biker.”
“Firstly, we’re a club, not a gang. And what does a biker look like, exactly?”
You shrugged. “I dunno. Your not even wearing any leather? And you don’t have a beard. Or a potbelly.”
He chuckled. “Sorry to disappoint. I can grow a pretty great moustache, though.”
You scrunched up your face and he laughed again before handing you his helmet.
“This really not a problem?” He asked you as he swung his leg over.
“Nope.” You answered as you bucked the strap beneath your chin.
“Have you ever been on a bike before?”
He grinned. “Hold on tight. And lean with me.”
You took a deep breath and nodded before holding onto his shoulder and swinging your leg over the bike.
You held onto his sides and he rolled his eyes before pulling your hands tighter around him.
He kicked up his kickstand and started the bike. The engine rumbled beneath you and you squeezed him tightly.
He turned and met your eye.
Slowly the bike began to move, and once he entered the street he turned the throttle, gaining speed.
You gulped as he turned a corner but you leant with him like he had told you, despite wanting to lean in the opposite direction and he sped up, making your hair blow out beneath the helmet.
Gradually you relaxed, your grip around his waist becoming looser and you sat up straight.
The scenery rushed past you in a blur and a grin spread over your face.
You had never felt more alive.
He stopped walking and stood next to you, glancing in the direction you were glaring.
“Thats her car.”
He saw the pain in your eyes as you looked at your best friends car, parked where you used to park yours; in the drive way of the house you had shared with your fiance.
He grabbed your hand and gave it a squeeze.
You nodded and moved forward, dropping his hand.
Juice couldn’t help but smirk as he watched you creep across the street, your body hunched and your head glancing from side to side and he snorted as you army rolled behind a bush.
He walked casually across the street and smirked as you hissed at him to hide.
He knelt down next to you and you turned to him with wild eyes.
“Do you want us to get caught?” You whispered angrily.
“Jesus christ, we’re not breaking the law.”
“Sorry, I forgot you were a gangster.” You rolled your eyes. “You probably don’t care if we go to jail.”
He fought a laugh. “Its a club, not a gang. And its your house, (y/n). You have a key.”
You nodded and pulled the hood of your jacket up and pulled it as low as it could go.
“So whats the plan, Chief?” Juice whispered.
“You start out here. I’ll head inside.”
Juice nodded and watched as you crept to the front door, silently fumbling with the keys.
Meanwhile he pulled the can of spray paint out of the bag and got to work.
You pushed the door shut behind you, careful not to make any noise.
You felt sick as you looked around the house. The moon was bright tonight and the room was dimly lit. After a while your eyes adjusted and you looked around the room.
The photos of you and your fiancé were still littered over the mantel piece and everything looked just as you’d left it. Except the heels scattered next to the door, and the coat draped over the back of the sofa.
You gulped and tip toed into the kitchen.
Every Wednesday afternoon you had baked. Brownies, cakes, cookies. You had always liked baking and George had always loved tasting whatever you had cooked up.
No matter what, there was always some fresh baking in your cupboards.
Which was perfect, because you knew when George got home he would head to the cupboard and eat whatever baking he could find, without a second thought.
You placed the container Juice had given you in the cupboard, smiling to yourself.
George wouldn’t even notice that these brownies were.. special.
Next you headed for the refrigerator.
Your best friend staying here meant that you didn’t need to make two stops tonight.
Every morning she had a big glass of orange juice.
You pulled the carton out of the fridge and opened it carefully before dumping the powder in and shaking it gently, making sure it dissolved.
It was only a laxative, completely natural, Juice had reassured you.
You knew she had a big meeting tomorrow, and you smirked. Its a shame she would be glued to the toilet.
You had just placed the carton back into the fridge when Juice entered the room.
“You ready?” He whispered.
“Almost.” You reached for the drawer and pulled out a large knife. You gave him a wink and grinned.
His eyes went wide as he saw the wild look in your eyes and the smirk on your face and he grabbed your wrist.
“Are you crazy?! Put it down.”
“What are you gonna do?! Stab her?!” He hissed at you.
You rolled your eyes and left the kitchen, Juice hot on your heels and you stopped when you reached the lounge.
“Hold this.” You passed him the knife.
“Why, you wanna get my prints on the murder weapon?!”
You scoffed and tip toed over to the mantelpiece.
Carefully you lifted the first frame. It was a photo of you and George on your first vacation together.
You pulled the sleeve of your jacket over your hand and pressed your palm against the frame, silently shattering the glass.
You placed the frame back on the mantel and repeated the process with the remaining frames.
Juice watched you and when you were finished you walked back to him and grabbed the knife.
He followed you through the front door and pulled it shut behind him.
You locked the door and shoved the keys back in your pocket.
“Whats the knife for?” He whispered.
You walked across the driveway and stabbed the knife into the front tire of her car.
The air hissed out and you pried the knife loose before stabbing each of the remaining three tires.
Juice had crossed the street and you walked over and stood next to him.
He draped an arm around your shoulder and you both looked at the house.
Juice had done well with the spray paint and you smiled as you looked at the work he’d done.
‘Cheat’ was spray painted in large letters on the garage door. He’d written ‘homewrecker’ on the bonnet of your friends car and the walls of the house were littered with other profanities, and next to the front window of the house he had painted a large penis.
“Nice touch, Picasso.”
He bowed and you both laughed.
“So what now?”
“We wait a few hours and then I ring his work and make an anonymous tip about the staff using drugs. If he eats the brownies he’ll fail the drug test and lose his job.”
You smirked. Sure, a part of you felt bad for what you’d done. But it was only a very small part of you, and you pushed those thoughts to the back of your mind.
Slowly Juice pulled you away and you walked together in silence back to his bike were you’d left it further down your street.
He passed you the helmet and you both hopped onto the bike.
You pressed your cheek to his back as he rode through the night, the crisp air brushing over you and you closed your eyes.
He smelled good, his cologne mixing with the faint smell of weed and the scent filled your lungs.
You clung to him tightly, his warm body pressed against yours.
You felt light, like all your baggage had finally been left behind you. Who knew all it would take was one night with a Puerto Rican biker boy.
The bike slowed and you finally took in your surroundings.
He had brought you to the water tower on the outskirts of town.
“Come on, we gotta hurry.”
He dragged you to the ladder and you shook your head.
“No way. I ain’t climbing up there!” You crossed your arms over your chest.
Juice rolled his eyes and tugged your elbow gently.
“Trust me, it’ll be worth it.”
His eyes were full of promise and pleading and you sighed.
“Fine. But if i fall to my death please make sure they dress me in something cute. I don’t wanna be buried in these jeans.”
And you started to climb.
He didn’t know why you disliked those jeans so much. From where he was looking, they looked great on you. Although he was climbing the ladder beneath you, and honestly it wouldnt matter what you were wearing, this view made your ass look great.
It only took a few minutes to reach the top and you stood shakily on the platform.
“Holy shit.” You whispered.
You could see everything from up here.
The shining lights of all the houses in Charming and even Lodi.
Everything was so small.
Juice sat down, swinging his legs off the edge and resting his arms against the lower railing.
You copied him and he pulled out another joint and lit it before offering it to you.
Together you shared the joint and together you watched as the large glowing sphere of the sun rose slowly into the dull morning sky. It cast sunbeams in every direction as it illuminated the small town, like an arsonist setting the sky on fire.
Below you in the trees birds began to chirp a background melody as the pure scattered light lit up every inch of the land below you.
Your breath paused in your lungs and you wished time would stop.
In this moment everything was forgotten. You forgot the heartbreak you’d endured, the betrayal. You forgot the boring motel room that was now your temporary home. You forgot that no one had been there for you when you needed them most.
But the one thing you didn’t forget was Him.
The first night you spent with Juan Carlos was a memory that would live on inside you forever.
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