Chapter 1

While I would love to adhere to the golden "show, don't tell" rule and detail an elegant portrait of my current countenance, unfortunately, I wasn't anointed with some supernatural ability to examine my own facial expressions in great detail without the aid of mirrors or reflections. So, let me break it to you this way:

I'm pissed.

For the record, I'm only mildly pissed. I'm pissed, but it could potentially be worse. Like, I'm not seething from the mouth or anything. On a scale of one to Satan, I'm a solid 6.5 out of ten. I'm not quite at the stage of boiling inside a pot of water with a scorching froth that threatens to blister your skin, but more like a bag of microwave popcorn that slowly but surely expands with every kernel that snaps kind of pissed. You know?

Okay, I suck at metaphors. I cease and desist.

Maybe I'd be singing a different tune if this were the first time I've been blatantly withheld from what I was owed by a customer, but it isn't. Isn't it sad that I'm already getting used to it? What even is my life? It's something I ask myself rather frequently. But I deal with jerks like this all the time, so I'd like to think my tolerance is rather high all things considered. Depending on what kind of crowd you're associated with, Twilight High can be cold and callous. There are many nice, respectful guys who ask for my... ahem, services, and pay handsomely for my efforts without trying to take advantage of my situation. And there's also an equal amount of self-centered bastards with the audacity to take advantage of every crevice and cranny of my desperation for money. Most of the time, it doesn't work. But there's always that one guy who gets me all worked up. Let's just say that this is one of those times.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Axel?" I exclaim with my fists situated on my hips authoritatively.

Axel, with his spiky red hair that I could swear is erect with an insanitary amount of hair product, flashes a devilish smirk as if he's claimed some sort of unspoken victory. "You know, Xion, you're kinda adorable when you're pissed." He winks while smacking on bubblegum, the sound equating to wet putty being pounded by a hammer. My lack of a reaction makes him sigh tiredly.

I clutch the insufficient amount of money in my hand and shove it in his face. The biggest offense was that he thought I was stupid enough to notice. What a way to indirectly insult my intelligence. "Really? Three-hundred dollars?"

He pauses as if waiting for further elaboration. "And your point is...?"

I pinch the bridge of my nose and inhale. "We agreed on five-hundred."

"Okay...?"

"As in, you're two-hundred dollars short."

He blinks. "Not following."

"Do you want to get smacked?" Dial it down, Xion. I don't need to get my blood pressure up over this guy. Okay, so the whole tolerance thing might have been a slight discrepancy within the narrative. But you see what I have to put up with, right? This guy is a tool. And yet, here I am in the middle of a very small and cramped music room, only slightly more spacious than a janitor's closet, preparing to auction off my services in return for a couple hundred bucks.

Axel wears an offputting ambiance of which I'm unfortunately quite familiar with. It's as if the urban dictionary puked the word "sleaze" and it mutated into this bastard of a human being. But with great reluctance, I admit that he is cute and rich, and I, shallow and desperate. I mean, do I get points for honesty at least? For the average client, this wouldn't be such a big deal. My issue is that Axel Flynn is not the average client and he certainly did not have the decency to negotiate this price drop beforehand.

"So you're PMSing?" Axel asks, breaking me out of my reverie.

I pause for a moment before crinkling my nose with disgust. "What?"

"PMS," he clarifies, pulling out his phone in what I assume to be him tapping away at the search bar on Google. "Premenstrual syndrome. Somethin' about the physical and emotional indications that occur in a woman durin' a two week period—"

"I know what it is, you idiot," I interrupt bitterly. "Wow. And here I thought a stupid joke like that would be beneath you. I guess I should make a mental note to not expect much from spoiled brats that have had good fortune handed to them ever since they were in diapers."

He feigns a pained expression and places a hand on his chest dramatically. "Ouch. Y'know, that one almost hurt."

"You don't seem to be very self-aware," I growl in response. "Otherwise, you'd notice that I'm not in the mood to play these stupid little games of yours."

"Apologies." He removes his red blazer with an unsubtle attempt at flexing. "I forgot, must be pretty hard bein' the popular chick."

I scoff. "Me? You must've forgotten who you're talking to."

"'Course I didn't," he says while miming a blowjob with his left hand. "You suck. Pun intended."

"Hilarious." I roll my eyes. "Somehow, I thought that kind of humor was beneath you."

Popular? Far from it. Sure, I may have a certain reputation held in high regard among the male demographic in particular. But that doesn't mean people like me; there's a difference. I like to believe my idea of taking advantage of the raging hormones and insatiable lust that plagues the average adolescent by giving blowjobs behind the bleachers and consenting to penetration in smelly ass hotel suites during the weekend and the back of crusty vans in return for money is a brilliant concept in the aftermath of some grand sexual revolution for women's rights for liberation.

Spoiler alert: it's not.

Don't judge me, okay? Put yourself in my shoes. After years of recurring daily annoyances such as desperately hoisting your jeans over the obnoxious camel rump commonly referred to as your derriere in which you worked hard for through bouts of lunge and squat training, combined with numerous instances of underboob sweat seeping at the most ironically inconvenient times (I shudder at the thought of prom last year), you decide to put those overrated puppies to some actual use and make easy money off them. You'd think wouldn't be a big deal. It's my body, after all. In an ideal world, I'd be able to do whatever I want with my body as I please. But sadly, reality has a way of cruelly reminding you that there are no such luxuries such as respect or consideration without the cost of a few bad apples. Not to mention that you've got cheap bastards like the guy standing before you and you wonder why you're risking suspension by agreeing to meet him in a restricted area before the first period.

"You know this is prostitution, right?" he continues. "How's that make you feel?"

Beginning to feel my annoyance settle back in, I swiftly pinch him by the ear and ignore his pleas without remorse. "Did you pay to be my therapist? I don't do this for fun I do this because there's no other choice."

Axel swipes away at my hand with his own expression of perturbance. At least we're even. "And it's got absolutely nothin' to do with your libido, right? Otherwise, I'd surmise you woulda sent an application to a local burger joint by now."

"What a hypocrite," I return with a snarl. "You want to talk about libidos. Did we forget who's paying for this little rendezvous?"

I smile triumphantly at the defeated glower on his face. "Hey, man. I can't help it. My penis is the overlord of my cognition and I have to relieve its desire as soon as possible. The urge to reproduce compels me," he says in a dramatic voice. "You women just don't understand, man."

"Uh huh," I reply lazily, hardly listening while finding my non-manicured nails to be infinitely more interesting than his babble. Seriously, I feel like I've heard this spiel a million times from a million different guys at this point.

"But I gotta thank you for makin' it easy for me," he says with a mischievous chuckle. "This is way more convenient than havin' to always put the moves on a chick. It can be a hassle, you know? First, you gotta plan your first course of action and be all witty and charming. Then you gotta listen to them and you have to actually, like, care and shit. It's hard work, man."

I place a hand on my chest while feigning concern. "You poor dear."

"Be grateful," he continues, glowering at my sarcasm. "I could nab any chick I wanted. But I was in a spending mood and chose to expend some of my wallet on you out of the kindness of my heart since I figured you could use the extra cash."

He isn't the first either. I honestly find it a bit surprising and I've never understood why all of these guys are willing to pay me for something they could probably get for free elsewhere. I've quietly chocked it up to dumb luck but it's starting to become too frequent to call it a coincidence anymore. "Why is that, exactly?"

He looks towards the ceiling as if it has an answer waiting for him. "That's a good question. Dunno. There's somethin' different about you. You're not like the other girls."

If that isn't the most tired line in the history of tired lines. "Gee, never heard that before."

"Believe it or not, I'm bein' serious. You're not as strenuous. I can just talk to you like you're anybody else." He eyes me up and down before winking suggestively. "'Course, your bod is a decent enough incentive." Ugh. Can't he at least try to downplay the sleaziness? I don't mind suggestive dialogue, but for the love of choco, at least try to be subtle about it.

"Explain why I'm two-hundred dollars short," I say, before my thoughts and this conversation get offtrack any further.

"C'mon, admit it. You're a nymph. It's okay, I like 'em a little freaky." He licks his lips seductively (rather, creepily). "Get me?"

"Axel," I deadpan.

"Nothin' to be ashamed about. Which dog gave it to you so good that it made you fall in love gettin' in-between the sheets? Dude must be a legend."

"Axel."

He sighs, using a hand to drag his face. "You sure know how to give a guy a good time. Sarcasm," he clarifies while pulling a can of beer out of his backpack.

"Screw you."

"Well, that's what I wanted you to do this entire time. But apparently, you'd rather waste our precious time whinin' about an itty bitty cut."

"Itty bitty?" I ask in awe. "Since when was a two-hundred dollar cut considered itty bitty?"

"Well—"

"Nevermind." I groan. "Almost forgot who I'm talking to—a cocky, arrogant, and painfully cliché rich kid who owns their own personalized yacht at the ripe age of seventeen while being only a couple years away from inheriting their father's company who regularly takes their own wealth and lavish lifestyle for granted. Of course, two-hundred isn't a big deal to you."

Axel rubs his chin suggestively, nodding with approval. "Impressive. Ever thought of bein' my publicist?" I clench my fists and glare threateningly, making him draw back upon noticing my impending frustration. "S-Sorry. Bad joke," he says with a sheepish smile. After a brief moment of staring, he breaks the silence with an exhausted sigh. "Why're you makin' such a fuss about this, anyway?"

"So I'm supposed to just let you gyp me? We agreed on five-hundred and you're acting like I'm complaining about being a penny short. You know I need the money. What's worse is that you didn't even have the decency to negotiate this beforehand."

He hushes at the sudden inflation of my volume while peeking out the door. "Hey, man. Keep it down. 'Less you wanna get caught. I know Sebastian doesn't come back 'till third period but it ain't worth the risk."

I gesture to our cramped environment. "Look where we are, Axel. If you haven't noticed, we're already at risk. Did we forget that it was your dumb idea to do this during school hours in the first place? And the smell of a tyrannical tidal wave of Axe body spray isn't helping."

His face contorts into a scowl. "Hey man, don't diss the Axe. Double entendre." I fold my arms and narrow my gaze. "Can't you just be grateful for three-hundred?" he asks in hypocritically whiny tone. "Besides, isn't your usual price a hundred and fifty? Why do I hafta cough up so much extra just to put my dick in your vagina?"

"Because your allowance is two grand a month and you own a personalized yacht," I remind.

"Good point." He takes another swig of his beer. "Hey, have you noticed the way yacht is spelled? Is it just me, or does it look weird? Y.A.C.H.T. Like it looks like somebody is gaggin' on their own finger or somethin'."

I don't have time for games. If he thinks I'm going to humor him by getting on my knees and begging for his graciousness, he's got the wrong girl. I make a turn for the door but before I can even grab hold of the knob, he quickly obstructs my path.

"Hey, hey! Where ya goin'?"

I feel my forehead weigh down. "You obviously aren't taking this seriously and insist on wasting my time. So, if you don't mind, I'll be going. I have better things to do."

He shrugs and extends his palm. "Then give me my money back."

Damn it. I reluctantly retrieve the three-hundred dollars from the pockets of my faux leather jacket. Am I a bad person for internally praying that he would just forget about the fact that I had his money and that he'd just let me out scot-free without having to refund? Actually, please don't answer that.

He lets out a long exhale, massaging the back of his neck with a slight snarl. "Women..." he mumbles. "This is totally killin' the vibe. Look, if it'll get you take a chill pill, I'll tell ya why I cut two-hundred."

To physically communicate my impatience, I cock my hip to the side and fold my arms, narrowing my eyebrows while staring directly at him. "...I'm listening."

He chugs the rest of his beer and crushes the empty can with both palms. "I crashed my car, alright? Wouldn't be a big deal if my old man just took care of it for me, but he insists I do it myself. Somethin' about taking responsibility or some shit. So I have to save as much as I can. That's business, babe. If you can't accept that, I can take my money back and walk my sweet, firm ass right out this door. Take it or leave it."

I guess I shouldn't have expected much. It's not the first time some asshole has attempted to take advantage of me, but I don't recall ever losing before. For the first time, my back is against a wall. And I'm pretty sure things aren't looking too good back at home right now either.

"Besides, rumor has it that you're lookin' to get your hands on anything you can get," Axel claims.

"Way to make me sound desperate."

He nonchalantly raises his eyebrows, as if testing me. "Do you deny it?"

I bite my lip to that one. He's right, I can't afford to refuse revenue at this point, no matter how big or small. At the end of the day, three-hundred is better than zero. Welcome to my life, folks. It's brimming with assholes and jackasses. I suppose I can't really complain, though. Considering my (technically illegal) occupation, it's only inevitable that I run into people like this from time to time. Looks like I don't have much of a choice.

Besides, he's right about one thing. I'm not only in this for the money. So maybe I like a good dicking every now and then, okay? Is that really so wrong? Feel free to judge me accordingly. I can just chock my decision-making up to desperation and sexual frustration. Accepting my defeat, I stuff the money into my jacket pockets once again and slump in defeat, albeit slightly.

He seems pleased with his triumph. I can't believe I have to swallow this. Both literally and figuratively. "Good girl."

"Quiet. Before I change my mind."

He smiles apologetically. "Would it help if I made it up to ya down the road?"

"It would help if that were honest."

He pulls up a chair and spreads his legs. "Sheesh. Have a little faith, would ya? I got you, babe! Next time," he adds quietly.

I give a deadpan look. "Just dig your grave even deeper, why don't you?"

"C'mon." He shrugs. "Better late than never, right?"

I roll my eyes and descend to my knees—begrudgingly, might I add? I unzip his fly and a flimsy phallus dangles before my nose. Upon instinct, I flinch with disgust. "Are you seriously going commando?"

He grins. "Never hurts to come prepared."

I shake my head. "You disgust me."

He smirks. "Can you really talk? Doesn't look like you have a bra on."

...'Kay. Point for him.

With the way he carries himself like he's the bees knees, I expected him to be packing quite the punch down here. I have to say, I'm slightly underwhelmed. Too much bees, and not enough knees. The size itself is pretty average. Not that size always matters. It's just that since these kinds of guys have a tendency to act like their penises are sacred kings erect with pride and dignity, I tend to have high expectations. At least I can say Axel himself isn't too bad-looking. Still doesn't make up for his narcissism, but gimme a break. I blame the given superficiality to adolescence and hormones.

I tell Axel to relax before I get down to business. I have a formula for these kinds of salty-smelling phalluses to make the experience a bit more tolerable. I can't say I necessarily dislike doing it. The way I see it, it's far from pleasure but it's far from pain as well. It's just part of the job. The key is to not think of it as a job, but more as—an adventure.

I deeply apologize for making you cringe, but you're gonna have to deal with a little cringe when dealing with me. If you want to suck dick, you have to go into it looking to give your partner a true experience. You can't just try to get it over with. Embrace the dick. Imagine it's sea-salt ice cream if you have to. I like to graze my mouth against him while stroking it, taking in an inch at a time. When it comes to giving pleasure professionally, you have to come up with formulas for success. A happy customer equals a happy bank account.

Axel shudders with pleasure at my technique. Hook, line, and sinker. This should be an easy three-hundred dollars.

Well, that's what I thought until the door decided to slam open and destroy any concentration I once had. The sudden sound forces an unintentional scream out of me. If it's a teacher, I'm screwed – and not in the fun way.

I'm nearly blinded by the light of the hallway. An intimidating silhouette stands tall in the midst of a dramatically white backdrop. I shriek and instinctively bury my head into the pit of my arms. Just when I was starting to think my shitty morning couldn't get any worse.

"There you are! Geez, I've been looking all over for you!"

Wait a minute. If there were ever a voice I knew like the back of my hand, it'd be this one. I slowly lift my head from my crouched position to find her standing in the door frame as I finally make out the individual in full once the smoke clears. Her body language exudes impatience. Yup. Kairi Hart, with her signature auburn tresses falling to her shoulders, framing her clearly irritated frown. I know exactly what that look means. I'm in for a lecture. Yay.

Axel shoots from his seat. "Whoa ho, Xion! I didn't know you were hookin' me up for a threesome!" He eyes her up and down and rubs his chin thoughtfully. "Y'know man, it's been awhile since I've had a redhead."

I slap my forehead. This guy must really have a death wish.

Kairi sends me a glare. "Really?"

"Kairi, get out of here," I shout. "This is strictly business."

She folds her arms stubbornly with a huff. "Xion, I've tried to back off and let you do whatever you want, I really, totally, seriously have. But I can't take this anymore! I'm sorry, but I'm cutting the plug on this one."

With clenched fists, she marches in and rolls up the sleeves of her immaculately designed pink and black cardigan. A glance at the petite girl wouldn't make you suspect that she's actually a badass who's trained in martial arts. But that's her secret weapon.

Axel, in his brain-dead stupidity, finds the audacity to take a stance against her path of rage and determination. "Wait a minute, Kai—"

"Shut it!" Axel lets out a painful yelp, kneeling over while cupping his manhood. "If I hear one more frickin' word out of that shit-eating abomination you call a mouth, I'm gonna make it a top priority to ensure that your kids never see the light of day. You got that?"

As he looks into a cold glare fabricated from nightmares, Axel shrinks and protects his groin. I'll admit, there's something satisfying about seeing a thirsty ass fuqboi on the verge of tears. Am I evil for that? "W-What does that mean?"

"Oh, you know exactly what it means." She squints and pounds her fist into her palm. "Get out."

A bit over the top? Yes, I agree. But that's just Kairi Hart for you. Sweet and naïve on the outside, with a merciless hardcore thug life hidden within.

At his exit, Kairi directs her attention towards me with an inevitable scowl. I smile bashfully with futile hope that she'll just let it go and we can continue our day like normal, but she shakes her head.

I sigh and pick myself up from the ground, dusting off my leggings. "Thanks for helping me up, by the way."

Her shoulders slump with a pout. She's back to normal. "You weren't actually planning on... doing it with that creep, were you? And do I even want to know what you were doing just now?"

"Don't worry about it. I was just inspecting his pubic hairs."

She squints. "Is that sarcasm? You know I'm not good at detecting sarcasm." I groan and pick up my bag, making my way into the hallway with Kairi following me behind. "H-Hey! Wait up!"

Her voice transitions into background noise as I trod down the hallway aimlessly. It's the same old routine. We roam through the school hallways while she blabbers on and on about the dangers of being sexually active like a walking 101-course on abstinence. I'm sure I could paraphrase one of her lectures at this point.

"You're ridiculous, you know that?" she continues. "I mean, come on. Axel frickin' Fujiwara Flynn? Do you want chlamydia?"

"You really think I'd have sex with Axel because of his charming personality?" I add with makeshift quotation marks over the word charming. "He's the heir to Fujiwara Corporations. Why would I say no to that?"

"He's not that rich," she mumbles quietly to the side with a puffy, but stubborn pout.

I give her a dull and utterly spiritless expression. "He treated everyone to a huge party at his personal getaway resort with hot tubs, swimming pools, freakishly large entertainment systems, and a bowling alley."

Kairi bites her lip. "Y-Yeah, but—"

"He was sixteen."

She opens her mouth to retort, but accepts defeat and draws back. I smirk victoriously. "Shut up," she deadpans.

"Who told you where we were, anyway?"

"Nobody," she answers. "You think I can't figure you out by this point? After twelve years, I'd be ashamed of myself if I didn't know you like the back of my hand. Just had to use some of my mad detective skills to—"

"It was Selphie, wasn't it?"

She pauses. "Pfft, no."

It was totally Selphie. Pretty obvious considering she's our resident gossip girl. She probably spotted me talking to Axel in the lobby between classes yesterday and told Kairi. I guess it didn't take Kairi long to figure it out since she caught me in the music room with Dilan before. I need to find new and better meetup spots at less inconvenient times, don't I?

"I'm sorry, I just don't like seeing you do this," she says.

"What else am I supposed to do? Just not put money on the table?"

"How about you not contract an STD while doing it?" she bites back. "It's not that I want to be that person who comes off as a self-righteous holier than thou snob who thinks they know what's best for you, but haven't you ever heard of these revolutionary things called... jobs?"

"Are you invalidating my own personal choice in what I do for a living?" I ask, slightly offended.

Kairi darts her eyes around as if some invisible force will magically grant her an answer eventually. "Y-Yes...?"

I sigh at the lackluster response. "I tried, remember? Didn't work out too well. Besides, it's not just about the money. A girl can have her urges."

She gasps at the horror. "Xion! Hast thou no shame?"

"Oh, hush." I roll my eyes. "Aren't you the one always asking me to tell you stories about all the guys I've been with?"

Her cheeks go red. "C-Can't a girl get curious?" she mumbles, twiddling her thumbs. "Look, I'm sorry if I sound a little, well... uh, insensitive. You know I love you and support your decisions all the way. But that doesn't mean I have to like them. It's just weird, okay? I remember when we were drinking out of sippy cups at recess and now you're talking about... doing it. Not to mention, for money. Which is totally illegal for a minor, by the way!"

"Don't yell at me!" I shout back with a pout.

She groans. "So, I'm sorry for being a bit uncomfortable."

"Well, I'm very sorry that you feel uncomfortable, but I don't want to hold myself back due to some antiquated standard set by society. I'm not ashamed of my sexuality. I'd like to think that I've become quite sexually liberated."

"Sexually liberated?" she repeats, though it rolls off her tongue with skepticism. "Well, I'm sorry, but if sexually liberated means you have to be - and you know I love you so please don't take offense because I only say this because I care - a buck forty hoe, then I think it's time we start up an intervention!"

I gasp, pretending to be offended. "A buck forty? I do not come with such a cheap price!" I step in front of her path and strike a pose with one hand on my waist and the other behind my head. "I'd say a buck seventy-five, at most." She blinks without a ghost of a smile. "What? Lost your sense of humor?"

"Xion," she whines. "I'm trying to be serious. You've been at this for months, and I've done my best to keep my big mouth shut, but this is too much. I've had to constantly bail you out. You can't expect me to just sit back and watch my best friend destroy their life."

"Destroy?" I chuckle. "Don't you think that's pushing it? Just a little? It's just sex."

"It's dangerous! You don't know what kind of person you might end up coming across. I'm not worried about you, I'm worried what others might do to you. You can't just trust some of these guys at face value. You have to understand that," she says almost pleadingly. Her concerned gaze breaks my heart a little. She really is worried about this. "I mean, I can totally pull some strings and get you a job at the ramen place I work at. I'll recommend you to Mr. Highwind. It's got to be safer than selling yourself out to a bunch of creeps. Plus, we can work weekends together! Wouldn't that be cool?" She gleams at me eagerly with doe eyes. "Pleeeaase?"

I gently push her back a few inches. "I'm not cut out for jobs like that. Again, do you remember last year?"

She sighs and slumps her shoulders in defeat. "Yeah..."

"Besides, I can earn up to almost eight hundred a month with this semi-prostitution thing. A little bit of negotiation and I can even get up to the thousands. I get that it can be a little dangerous since most of my clients are outside of school, but I have Shiki to protect me. I'm totally fine."

"I'm sorry, but does everything you say just go in one ear and out the other? Listen to yourself. Prostitution! You're in high school!"

"A senior in high school," I clarify. "I'm a few months from turning eighteen in February. I'm practically an adult."

"For the love of choco," she exasperates with a groan. "I guess there's no talking you out of it, huh?"

I put a stop to our side-by-side pace to class and place my hands on her shoulders, giving her a genuinely gracious smile. "No, it is seriously beyond sweet of you, but you worry too much. It's not even going to be a permanent thing. I think you underestimate me sometimes."

"It's just - I dunno. I'm sorry, but I just worry about you sometimes. I always get this awful feeling whenever I think about it. I mean, ever since my mom left us last year, it hasn't been the same around the house. Dad's been in and out. When I try to get his attention, his mind is always somewhere else. You're all the family I have left and if something ever happened to you..."

"Aww, don't start." I envelope her into a hug and she returns the favor. "I'm not going anywhere," I speak into her ear. "I'll always be with you. Nothing will change that. But things aren't exactly going smoothly on my end, either. If we don't make these payments, my family is on the streets. I have to do something."

"I guess..." She sighs and offers a slightly irritated glower. "But why does it have to be this?"

"You got a better idea?" I interrupt her before she can make her obvious suggestion. "And no, I won't apply to Shoyu Shoyu."

She accepts defeat with a slight frown. "I'm sorry, but you better know what you're doing."

"I got this, girl!" I grin. "Sister from a different mister?"

She gags. "That is so cringe. You know I hate when you say that." Eventually, she gives in and settles into a gentle smile. "Alright. Sisters from a different mister. Also, I'm sorry, but you're totally treating me to a paopu smoothie after school."

I frown. "I told you, stop saying you're sorry all the time. It's a bad habit."

"Sorry." I cast her a glare. "Oh, sorry! Wait, no - I mean... sorry."

I sigh, but can't help but smile. "What am I going to do with you?"

S.E.X.S.E.L.L.S

A paopu smoothie imported from Destiny Islands has always been the perfect remedy to ease my scatterbrained best friend's worries. It's not like Twilight Town has much else to offer. It's a community that embraces modesty. I realize this as Kairi and I exit the bus and make our way down the avenue that leads to my street, sipping paopu smoothies all the while. The streaks of orange rays cast against a caramel sky sets the mood perfectly. You'd think I'd love it here, but it's pretty boring.

We approach my house and I retrieve my keys from my jacket pockets. We decided to "study" after school today, though that honestly just translates to us being unproductive while binging Netflix until her curfew. I open the door and - ack, gross. I immediately shield my eyes from the horrifying sight of my idiot brother shirtless, a toothbrush dangling from his mouth and a Struggle bat on his shoulder.

Kairi, on the other hand, seems to be in wonderland. "Xion..."

"Yeah?"

"...I think I finally hit puberty."

Oh, geez. Not this again.

"Put some clothes on, Sora," I say with genuine disgust. "Nobody needs to see that."

Kairi gulps. "I object," she mumbles, though Sora doesn't seem to hear her.

Sora gives a borderline cocky grin. "You know if we weren't related, you'd be all over me."

I gag, swallowing my lunch back down my throat. "Please, don't enlighten us to your twisted fantasies. I really didn't need to know you were into incest."

He ruffles up my hair, mostly because he knows I hate when he does that. "Aww, I love you too, kid."

I shove him away and pat my hair back down. "Why are you shirtless, anyway?"

"Just got done training for the Struggle tournament. I'm winning us the prize next summer, Xion. I can feel it!"

I roll my eyes. "Didn't you feel it the past three summers?"

"This time, for sure! And if not, at least I can say I did my best. Right?" He ties his hands behind his head with that shit-eating grin of his. Don't let that dorky smile fool you, he's insufferable. He's always acting nice, helpful, selfless, and the most perfect human being to everyone else but then acts like a total dickbag of a brother when he's around us. And Kairi just had have a crush on him. Isn't that right, irony? God, I hate him.

"I-I think you'll do great, Sora!"

"Thanks," Sora says excitedly. "Seeee? Kairi believes in me."

I give him a dim expression. "Haven't you ever thought about why she might always be rooting for you and cheering you on?"

He backs up and scratches his head. "Should I?"

I hear Kairi squeak. "I-It's nothing! Don't mind her—"

"You are so dense," I cut her off. After all these years, she still doesn't have the balls to tell this idiot how she feels. "Have you still not noticed the way she looks at you?"

"The way she looks at me...?"

Kairi chuckles nervously. "Silly, Xion! S-She doesn't know what she's talking about! Hey, how about we go up to your room?" She gives me a death glare when Sora isn't paying attention while tugging on my arm.

"Okay, hold your horses," I say after getting her off. "You don't even have to worry about him figuring anything out anyway. He's clueless."

"About what?" he asks, scratching his head.

She casts a nervous smile to Sora with a meek wave, and he waves back, clueless to her the romantic implications that follow. It's getting really tiresome having to watch their nonexistent romance develop over the years.

"Alright, alright, move, move," I say, pushing Kairi up the stairs. "Just go to my room. I'll be there in a second." She gives a pouty face before begrudgingly making her way upstairs. Once she's out of earshot, I turn to Sora ready to scold him for being doofus of the year.

"What?"

"You're not very smart, are you?"

"You could tell me what you're talking about, you know."

I groan. "My point exactly. Look, just go away and do whatever you do, will you? You better make that girl my sister-in-law someday."

"W-What...?"

I walk away before he can ask any more dumb questions. I set my bag and the money I got from Axel on the kitchen table before peeking into the living room; it's separated by two sliding doors. As I expected, he's sprawled out on the couch yet again with the TV blaring. His long, black hair cascades over his face and that damn bandanna, that he refuses to take off, hovers over one eye while snoozes his afternoon away. He looks like a fool, but I still can't fight back a smile.

I turn the TV off and take a seat beside him in the small space left on the couch, making sure not to mess with the cast on his right leg.

"Pssst," I hiss. "Hey, Vince. Viiince~," I sing, intentionally obnoxious. He stirs out of his nap and opens his eyes. After rapidly blinking himself back into consciousness, he seems to finally recognize me. "Welcome to the land of the living, sleepyhead!"

"Xion...?" he says in a raspy voice. "Is it morning already?"

I lightly tap him on the forehead with my knuckles. "It's four in the afternoon, goofball. Don't tell me you slept all day again."

He perches himself onto his elbows, whipping his hair out of his eyes. "Well, why don't you go out and break your leg in the middle of working on Gummi ships, then come back and tell me what a rollercoaster your daily activities are." He sighs. "If only your mother were around..."

I sigh. "Yeah, if only."

"You plan on visiting her?"

"If I can buy the time."

"Still busy with that mystery job of yours, huh?" He gives a skeptical look while he forces himself to sit up.

"Uh, yeah."

"Still waiting for you to tell me what that mystery job is, and how you get so much money out of it."

I grumble beneath my breath. "Does that really matter? I'm helping us pay bills. Isn't that good enough?"

His stern expression falters slightly as he places a hand on my shoulder. "It doesn't mean anything if I have to deal with my youngest daughter getting hurt. You know how uncomfortable this makes me, but your mother and I always believed in allowing you kids to find your own paths, not letting our expectations weigh you down. Still..."

I take his hand into mine. "Look, Vincent—"

"Dad," he corrects. "How many times have we gone over that?"

"Ugh, fine." I prefer to call him by his first name. It makes me feel like we're on equal ground. "Dad, I get it. I get that you're stressed. But I have this under control. You don't need to worry about what I'm doing. I promise you, it's not dangerous. Just a little embarrassing and I don't need Sora coming by to harass me while I'm on the job."

"You make it sound like you're a mascot at the carnival," he says with lingering suspicion set in his tone.

"Maybe, maybe not," I reply with a shrug. "But it's nothing crazy. Trust me, I got this in the bag!"

He chuckles dryly. "You really do take after your brother sometimes."

"What?" I ask, offended. He knows I hate being compared to that little shit.

Dad bursts out laughing; he always seems to get a kick out of getting a reaction out of me. I pout and fold my arms. "I'm just teasing you." After a moment of his laughter dying down, his expression turns grim. "But still, you can't blame me for being worried and suspicious. You're taking advantage of the fact that I'm tied down to the house and can't really follow you around."

"I told you, it's embarrassing. I, uh, just don't want you sending Sora or Shiki up to my job to spy on me or something. I know how you are. And I'd never hear the end of it from them."

"It can't be that bad." He ponders for a moment before speaking up again. "You're not selling drugs, are you?"

The thought of him even suggesting me doing that makes me scowl. "Dad."

"I trust you, Xion. But that's not the point. I'm glad that you're taking responsibility, and you've done a tremendous job. Really, you and your sister have saved our butts more than once. Let's just not forget that I'm still your father."

"I know that, Daddy." I smile. "But I need you to believe in me. You and Yuffie—I-I mean... Mom," I quickly correct before he can scold me again. "You two have spent your whole lives looking after us. I guess I just feel like I should return the favor. If you'll let me...?"

Silence washes the room over for a while as Dad contemplates with his usual skepticism. It's not very fun trying to keep a secret of sex working from an overly protective father, believe me. But coming home with money in my pockets kind of makes it all worthwhile. He's right about one thing, I am taking advantage of the fact that he can't really go hounding around behind my back when he's weighed down by a broken leg. Even so, he eventually sighs in defeat.

"Okay. I'm trusting you... for now. But the moment I detect that something's wrong, you will tell me what you're doing. No matter what I have to do to get it out of you." I smile sheepishly with a nod. Dad isn't someone to disobey. "Until then, I'll rely on you."

"I'll do my best." I pick up his blanket and snake it across his chest. "Now get some rest, Mr. Manly. That leg isn't going to heal itself."

I kiss him on the forehead and he turns to his side, clearing his throat before shutting his eyes. I pick myself up and make my way into the kitchen before his voice interrupts me.

"Hey."

"Hm?"

"I'm proud of you, kid."

I frown. "I hate when you call me that."

Even though I can't see it, I'm well aware of the bastard of a smirk currently smeared across his lips. "I know."

"...T-Thanks."

I pull the doors closed with a sigh. I wonder if he'd be so proud if knew exactly what it is that I do to keep a roof over our heads. Times have been tough ever since both Mom and Dad got put out of commission temporarily. Thanks to bullshit benefits plans and insurance policies, there hasn't been much money. Me, my brother, and my sister have each had to step it up. This just so happens to be my way of doing it. I'm just doing what I have to do. So there's no need to feel bad about it. With a renewed resolve, I turn around to—

"XION."

"Gyah!" I squeak. "Shiki, how many times do I have to tell you? Don't sneak up on me like that." Her ear-piercing squeal made me jerk back a little bit and hit my head on the door. Vince is probably cursing under his breath right now.

"Do you really think I ever listen to you?"

"...Touché." It's not like I really listen to her either.

Meet my big sister, Shiki. Surprisingly, she's the oldest out of the three of us. But she certainly doesn't act like it. "Anyway, quit your whining and check this out." She practically shoves her phone screen into my face. It's a picture of some dude with a lusciously bronze tan and long silver hair. That is a fascinating jawline. "Whaddaya think?"

"He's cute. So?"

She slumps at my lackluster response. "Don't be dense. I got us jobs tonight. Both him, and his little brother, who just so happens to be around your age."

Now I'm interested. "Give me the details."

"I met them at the Struggle prelims," she explains. "They're in town for a few months because of some business trip with their parents, and get this, their father is the CEO of Moogle Express. So you know these guys are loaded!"

"Are you serious?" This must be my lucky day. "Is his brother as cute as him?"

"Who, Xehanort? Of course!" Xehanort? That's a funky name. "And before you ask, they agreed to three-hundred if we go to dinner. Five-hundred if we go back to their hotels with them."

Sounds like the perfect way to make up for the whole Axel catastrophe. Plus, rich and cute? I've been hitting the jackpot lately. In hindsight, it helps that Twilight High is such a prestigious school where a handful of wealthy kids end up attending, but getting clients from outside of school is more up my speed. I'll take it.

"So, when do they want to meet us?"

She smirks. "Tonight."

I have no business putting out another story, but I've had this idea since like January. I tried writing the new chapters for Rags To Riches and Lover's Quarrel, but the inspiration just wasn't there. So I came across this document that had been lounging around for the past seven months and I decided to finish it. I quickly got a lot of inspiration and thought up a bunch of ideas!

Just want to keep in mind that I am not glorifying prostitution nor am I degrading it, this is just an idea I had.

Hopefully, this doesn't get too controversial or anything, I don't want my account banned O.o but this story has a lesson to be learned, and damn it, I shall do what I feel is right!

So, what do you think? Would you like to read more? What didn't you like about this and what do you think I should improve on? Let me know in a review and thank you for taking the time to read! I hope you enjoyed!

EDIT: 11/1/16 And if you could be so kind, could you pleeeeasse, pleeease leave a review to let me know what you all think? I would REALLY appreciate the feedback, even if you didn't like this first chapter and aren't interested in continuing, please leave a review letting me know why, please? I really could use the constructive criticism because I just want to get better!