¶𝗥𝗼𝗰𝗸 𝗕𝗼𝘁𝘁𝗼𝗺 [H.S]

3.3

𝙰𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗

"Melanie isn't home," was the first thing Liam said when he answered the door.

She was the last O'Coyle I wanted to see anyway.

"I'm not here for her. Can I come inside?" I asked, brushing over my cold cheeks with my warm hands. The tears had dried up, but I could still feel them under my skin. And it was so fucking frustrating how much I cried about people that probably didn't shed one single tear for me.

I snapped out of my thoughts when I tried to walk inside, but Liam didn't move away. "May," he said, and I furrowed my brows at him, "It's May."

No, it's November.

"Huh?"

He laughed at me, looking me up and down. "It's May I come in, not Can I come in," he said again, this time more understandable.

Just because he was in Med School didn't mean he was more intelligent than me. And it didn't give him the right to correct me on something that wasn't even that important.

"Okay. Would you let me in?" I asked, finding it hard to keep my guard up when all I wanted was to cry on someone's shoulder.

Probably, Liam wasn't the best option for that, but I couldn't go to Melanie, Harry, or any of my other friends. They would've all thought I was overreacting. But how could I keep my cool when I saw my fucking best friend make out with my boyfriend?

Liam's features softened the second I felt tears in my eyes. I sniffed, rubbing my eye with the back of my hand.

"Aiden, are you okay?" he took a step back with concern in his voice.

I nodded, "I'm fine."

I was fine for a girl getting cheated on. Compared to the last time I got cheated on, I was much more calm. Instead of ruining his car with Melanie, I was keeping my distance.

"So if you're fine, then why are you here?" he asked, following me from behind as I walked into the living room.

A half-empty glass of alcohol and books were opened on the coffee table. The place where Liam previously sat was made blatant by the stacked throw pillows.

"I just needed to chat with someone," I told him, taking a seat on the sofa.

Liam stood still for a second with his hands pushed into the pockets of his sweatpants. There was a small stain on his white turtleneck that looked fresh and his eyes seemed more tired than usual.

"I don't have time for a chat. I need to study," he pointed out at the books, walking back to his spot on the sofa, "I have an exam tomorrow and I can't make any mistakes."