Give Me Love (An Ed Sheeran Fanfiction)

Chapter Two

I picked the shiny rectangle up and twirled it in my hands. It was heacier than it looked but by no means too heavy. I noticed a notch in it and realized it opened. Then I remembered what it was. A lighter. Michael must've left it for me. I'd seen my dad stirke one a few times, on those occasions that we had a bonfire or something of the sort.

I held it away from my face and ran my finger over the wheel quickly. The flame flickered, smal, for a minute, then grew in height. Astonished, I pulled it a bit cloder. I could feel the heat radiating off of it. 

Suddenly, a gust of wind surged by, and when the flame brushed my lip I dropped it to the ground. My finger made it's way to my mouth. Nothing was burned, burning, or hurting on mmy face, although my hands were shaking when I reached back down for it. This time I turned away from the wind and struck i, with more sureness. I took one last look at the jar, mumbled "Bye" and poured the contents in the fire pit, catching a few peices on fire before shitting it and backing up. The fire didn't get big and the paper's mainly just smothered, which I was thankful for.

One they were all gone I promised myself I wouldn't think about anything written in those ashes again.

But, promises always tend to get topsy turvy or forgotten, or broken, whether you intend for them to be or not.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There's a select few more things I feel I need to say before I start the real story, in which you won't actually be hearing from me like this. 

First and foremost, a proper introdruction.

In case you didn't catch it earlier, my name's Bethany. Beth Tara Smith. There isn't much to say on that note, besides I'm glad my parents didn't choose something different. As of this date, I'm 21. Never went to college. Had I, I would have gone for Cosmetology, you know, hair, makeup. But taking the chemistry class, the math, I couldn't do it if I tried. 

I was born at 9:09 A.M (awful close to 9:11 but whatever) on January 19 to Sara and Peter Smith. 

I'm...maybe I'll let you find out in the story on your own. You wouldn't believe me now, possibly not then. I'm not exactly open about it. Maybe I never will be. But I don't mind it. No one even questions me about it.

Let's go on to one more time, then I swear I'll get to the real story.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bass could be heard from the club before the music could. I paused at the parking spot, letting the tingling of the seat remind me what I was walking in to. A bar/club full of drunks, male and female, straights and gays. Music, blaring music, music that literally shakes your bones. I smiled to myself.

When I stepped out of my car-okay, maybe it wasn't techically mine, I was the one in possesion of it and no police were on my trail so I figured I was safe, even if for a while-I realized it was locked with my keys still in. And my wallet was in there. 

"Shit."I muttered under my breath. But I let it go, and entered the club.

As soon as I opened the door, the reek of alchohol engulfed me. How did I expect to go home now, smelling like this? Maybe if I could refrain from drinking...

But in my mind I knew I'd leave just as hammered as I had been the weekend before at the less flashy bar, or the weekend before at the rocks with a bunch of people I didn't know.

I technically wasn't old enough to buy liquor. I just prayed there was a cute guy there that would bite the bait.

I walked over to a barstool and had a seat. After a minute or two I noticed a somewhat cute girl dancing in front of me, and I laughed at her. "What's your name?"