𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐬 || Jameson Hawthorne

champagne problems (Jameson's Version)

JAMESON HAWTHORNE
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༄ 𝐈'𝐃 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐔𝐏.

And maybe if I wasn't such an alcoholic, I'd actually do something about it. If I knew how to keep anything good in my life, a lot would be different.

I would have her here. In my arms.

But instead, I was drunk off my ass, the buttons of my shirt undone and jeans loose. After my fight with her, it only felt right to leave the memorial. I didn't want to ruin anything else for her.

Fuck.

"You really are a mess," Xander said. "Drinking at 9pm? Already?"

Drinking any time in the day was sweet, but at nighttime— when the stars were out and I could say the dumbest shit to the sky on the roof? That's the best.

Surprised Xander found me out here.

"Leave me alone," I mumbled, angry and bitter over all my fucking life choices.

"Uh oh, did someone get in trouble with his girl again?" Xander smirked. "You are always doing something to piss her off."

I took another swig at the now almost empty bottle of vodka. "She's not my girl, Xander."

"She might as well be."

In another life— a far off, perfect life— she would be my girl. I'd kiss the shit out of her every morning and tell her how beautiful she is. But instead, I messed it up. Like always.

"She likes that guy, Michelle, I think."

Xander snorted. "You mean Michael?" He grabbed the bottle of vodka out my hands, leaving me with a frown. "You gotta stop drinking so much, I think it's getting to your head."

"Yeah, yeah." I snatched the bottle back.

Xander stood up. "Listen, I know you care about her. But maybe this is a good thing?" Before I could blow up at him, he continued with, "I get it, you.. feel protective of her. The whole Emily thing— but this is good."

Once I heard the door to the roof close, I let out the biggest fucking scream I could muster.

How the hell did I get here?

Just as I did that, my phone buzzed, and I clicked it open to see a text from Avery.

Feel like going on a little trip?
—
༄

I don't know what I'm doing.

But right now, I'm stuck in the back of the car— alone, and Lizzie will not talk to me.

I have done everything and will do anything, but no matter what I do, she won't talk to me. I knew what it was about last night. I'd fucked up with Michael.

So, maybe I was angry. Yeah, I was. I told her I loved her that day in the wine cellar, and she didn't say anything back. She thought I'd meant it in the family or friend way, but I hadn't.

I think I was in love with her.

It took me a while, after treating her horribly and drinking, but when I looked up, she was there. Always. But it's too late.

She's done with me.

"We should play a game," Xander said. "What do you think, Lizzie?" He nudged her shoulder.

"Not in the mood," she said, curt and short. She had been resting her head against the window, and that only frustrated me when she knew we always sat in the back together.

Her head could've been on my shoulder, or something.

Fuck!

"A penny for your thoughts?" Xanders question brought me back to the present.

"Nope." I laid down into the seat, a small sigh escaping my lips.

I needed to fall asleep, and fast. Anything to get me out of this situation where the girl I loved literally hated me.
—
༄

a/n:

helloooo darlings!!! this one's been sitting in the drafts for a while :0 so sorry!

i'm sooo sorry i've been inactive on this story, but i'm back and promise to be as active as i can loves! 😩