Before the Factor

Melody

Amelia

"Okay okay. Oh, shit. Okay." I whispered to myself, sneaking across the wooden floorboards. A loud squeak under my right foot. Curse word escaping from my lips. Around the corner. Down the stairs. Putting on my shoes, shoving my jacket over my shoulders.
Alright, so I was sneaking out. So what? I wasn't exactly thrilled about my chemo session tomorrow, all my fears and worries summing up to one big disaster. What if I got a nurse that looked like a man? What if they got the wrong vein and I bled to death.
Many scenarios, none of them good.
Out the door, passing the gate, and finally walking down the street. I left a note for Harry if I didn't make it home, even though I was positive I could. One beer, that's what I was giving myself. Maybe even a shot, if I was feeling adventurous. If anything the bars would be too crowded and I'd end up wandering the streets of London.
But I had no such luck you see, because the world freaking hated me.
The first bar I saw was an Irish pub and was mostly empty. I opened the door before my conscience could turn me around and haul my ass back to Mr.Styles. I didn't want to see his face anymore. It was too perfect, too composed. I knew he was loosing his shit the moment little miss perfect doctor mentioned chemo.
It smelled like smelly men and fried food, but hey, I wasn't one for complaining at this point. There were two people at the bar and about ten spread out at the tables. Rihanna was playing, her words slurred by the broken speakers. I sat on the stool furthest from the door, willing myself to stay.
A woman my age, maybe twenty was to my left, the wall to my right. Ignoring the vague smell of pee, I waited for the bartender to notice me. She was a bit preoccupied, speaking to another woman with the largest set of breasts I'd ever seen. Her hair was purple, her eyeshadow blue, she looked like a Sephora store blew up in her face and she'd kept it like that.
I huffed, not knowing what to do.
"She'll be busy for a while over there." The woman next to me said, with gorgeous bronze skin and curly hair cascading down her shoulder. Her accent was American, surprising me. She lit a cigarette, flicking her eyes in my direction, then reached over to grab a bottle and a cup over the counter. "The boobs keep you occupied for a while, if you know what I mean. They're like," she pours the gold liquid into the glass, "mesmerizing."
A laugh escapes my lips as she pushed the glass in my direction. I nod, then bring it to my lips slowly.
"Oh, no, no." She puts her manicured fingers over the lip of my cup, "all of it. Chug. You look like you need it." Then proceeds to take a long drag from her glowing piece of tobacco.

"Really?" I asked, it looked like it needed to be sipped. She nodded, I sighed. What's the point of going to a bar if you're not gonna get hammered? It burned like the devil himself was crawling through my throat. I coughed until I thought my lungs where gonna come up next, and everyone stared at me until I got it under control.
Brown eyes started laughing, her glass nearly tipping over. She slapped my back and smiled at me like I was the most amusing thing she'd ever seen.
"Oh, darling. You're a lightweight aren't you?" She smirked at me, and poured me another glass.

I swallowed, hesitant. "I've never actually, well, drank before." A blush rises in my cheeks, my hands enclosing around the pristine clear glass. I hadn't noticed that she was wearing some amazing high heeled boots and seriously skinny black jeans. Her top was showy, but not so much to where it was gross. Everything was black, even her earrings where black. She was the epitome of confidence and badass. In that order exactly.
"Wow. Well, I'm glad I got to be the first to witness it then." She smiled and took another drag, then tilted her head back and downed a glass of the stuff she put it me. "I'm Melody, by the way." Her held out her hand, and I shook it without hesitation.

"Amelia. It's nice to meet you, Melody." I said happily, then chugging another glass. I poured myself another, not waiting for her to do it. If this was going to happen, I was going to be the one pouring.

"Amelia, that's nice. Mind if I call you Mia? It's a bit easier, especially if I'm going to be drunk." She laughed and I laughed with her, she was nice I could tell. And how ironic was it that my life revolves around music and her name was part of it?