1- the breakup

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"trev, please don't do this, i swear we'll make it work!"

"i'm so so sorry y/n"

you get up, not being able to hear anymore of his stupid excuses on why you guys should breakup, you knew this was because of allie, she was your best friend - or so you thought, she came to you last night admitting she had feelings for your now, ex boyfriend.

she must have said something to him

you thought to yourself, the very idea of them together making your eyes well. storming down the street not knowing where to go, so you go to the closest place, your local bar. using your fake id you order yourself 3 shots and a tequila, planing to get pretty drunk. as each of the shot glasses get filled by the bartender you pick each one up and scull them down quickly, he starts on your tequila next,

"rough night?"

he questions, glancing at the mascara stains on my cheeks while pouring the drink into the large, round glass, placing a slice of lime on top.

"something like that"

you reply, forcing a small smile. he hands you the glass, topping it with a small straw. you take a sip and make a sour face, while shaking your head

"it's a strong one"

the bartender says, piercing your soul with his strong gaze.

"when do you knock off?" you question,

some rebound sex can't be too bad, right?

you think to yourself, wanting to get your mind off of trevor. needing to. he glances at his watch while giving you a cheeky smirk.

"give me ten minutes"

he says collecting your empty glasses and handing you his car keys,

"it's the black porsche out front"

he says pointing to his car, his words shocking you to your core.

is this guy rich or something? maybe he just likes cars?

"alright thanks"

you give him a toothy smile, taking the keys from his palm, gently brushing your fingertips across it as you take them. you push the door open and unlock his car, pulling the handle and relaxing back into the soft, leather seat waiting for the stunningly hot bartender to come meet you in his car, excitedly thinking about what's coming next.

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