Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
^Aight. You see this butterknuckle right here? IM ANGRY @ THIS BUTTERKNUCKLE RIGHT HERE. Because here I am trying to find a picture of Luke Hemmings 'angry' for a visual for this chapter and hES SO GODDAMN HAPPY ALL THE TIME THERES NO ANGRY FACES AND AHHHHH hes so cute i cant but sTILL
Anyways, enjoy this chapter. Wattpad made me rewrite it all and I cba to check over it so if it sucks I apologize. ❥
I don't think I've ever felt this sick before.
Right after I saw Calum, Bailey slipped me another drink. And another. And another. And another. And another. Until her flask ran out and I couldn't even remember my own name.
The girl was relentless. After my third cup, she cheered me on until I was crushing two red solos in under a minute.
I hold my hand against my head, moaning at the way my brain is currently bashing itself against my skull.
What is in that?
It doesn't help the throbbing feeling when I hear someone call my name.
"Sophie! You'll never guess what,"
It's Ashley. At least, I'm pretty sure it's Ashley; I'm hoping it's not just a talking tree or something, because judging by how I'm currently seeing double right now, I wouldn't be surprised.
"W-what?" I ask weakly.
"Luke won against Calum at beerpong," she smiles. I don't return the favour, because my chest is tightening and my hands have never shook this much before.
Suddenly Luke is next to her, his smile dissipitating into a slight frown when he sees me shivering. "Babe?" he says.
"You don't look so good, Soph." mumbles Ashton, leaning forward to lay the back of his hand against my forehead. "You're burning up."
When I don't reply, Luke quickly kneels down in front of me, making Ashton move to the side. "Baby," he says, tilting my head up. "What's wrong?"
What's not?
My mouth is unbelievably dry, and I don't speak in fear of my tongue crumbling. So I keep my lips stuck together.
"Sophie?" Michael. I know it's Michael because of the red dye staining his shirt. "Shit, Soph, what did you drink?"
That, I can answer. I shakily hold up the red solo cup. "P-punch." I tell him weakly.
