Oscar has never tried to fit in and has never wanted to, but when his party friend, Max, is revealed to be mafia prince, Marcus Gallagher, suddenly being a 'lone wolf' is no longer an option; not if Oscar wants to woo his prince and get out alive!
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They weren't waiting long before one of their drivers arrived at the restaurant parking lot to collect Elise, but Max still felt better waiting with her just to be safe. Then he strode over to Oscar, who was sitting astride his bobber–which was essentially a stock Harley that had been stripped down in a particular way, from what Max understood. He'd never really gotten super into bikes, but goddamn if Oscar didn't look good on it.
Its bare-bones profile had all the grungy appeal of its owner. Oscar wasn't at all what most of society would find handsome or sexy at first glance unless they were the type who hung out at HotTopic a lot as preteens. But to Max, Oscar's thin, pale, tattooed figure and punk-cut hair was perfect. His piercings, his clothes, the thick dark layer of eyeliner framing crystal blue eyes... Everything about Oz looked uniquely and unapologetically him. And to Max, that was hot as fuck.
This came as quite a startling realization as Max stared at the man he considered his realest friend, backlit by the last rays of the dying sun. When had he gone from wanting to get high and party with Oz to wanting to run a hand through that nearly black hair and give it a tug? When had he started imagining sitting on that red plaid-covered lap or having Oscar on him?
Max shook his head and cleared his throat. "So, where to?" There weren't actually many real beaches to speak of on the west side of the bay. That area was Commerce City, the commercial district of Kingsport, and was south of Golden Heights, where they currently were. But there were plenty of docks where they could spend a secluded evening, provided the tide didn't bring the water in too far.
"I think I know a place," Oscar said with a smile.
Where he took them was about as far south as Oscar had ever been to an old docking station that had been abandoned decades ago. The old dock was guarded by an ancient-looking brick building, likely an old warehouse, with broken windows and boarded-up doors. The only paint was from graffiti covering every inch of the reachable surface. The drive leading up to it ended in a large chain link fence with some rusted signs that warned against trespassing and professed private property. But from the amount of overgrown vegetation breaking through the cracked asphalt, Oscar was sure that whoever owned this patch of land had long forgotten about it.
He walked his bike over to the side of the fence that was obscured by bushes, and where it appeared, someone had already detached enough of the fence from its frame that Oscar could slide it aside like a curtain. He tucked his bike just on the other side, just out of view should anyone drive past. Even if they had, all they would've spotted was Max's car, which was a far more enticing prospect than a mostly hidden custom bike, if someone really intended to screw with their shit.
It was pretty dark as they made their way down the path to the abandoned building, so Max pulled out his phone to use the flashlight mostly to avoid losing his footing in his sleek dress shoes.
"If it wasn't for the waves and the crickets, it'd be really quiet out here," Max noted appreciatively. He wanted to say something else, but he wasn't sure what. In a weird spin of events, he now felt like he had to be more careful with what came out of his mouth now than he had to before, or else he might come off like too much of a 'rich prick' rather than Oscar's friend again...and that shit had hurt. As stupid as it felt to acknowledge it, it had. "I forgot to ask if you even had any herb on you..."
