|COMPLETED|
"Michael Langwood has Wattpad," I repeated and smirked at him, trying not to laugh.
"I told you it's NOT my account," he grunted, "It's a friend's who stopped using it so he passed it to me and -"
"Shhh," I pressed my finger on his lips...
A\N: Please listen to the song above when I tell you to. Thank you! :)
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Eighteen:
"Bree, yo, will you pass me that bottle of vodka?" asked Michael, pointing to the wide table next to me.
I followed his gaze to table, which was decorated with half a dozen bottles of transparent liquid, some of them looking more suspicious than others. A small part of that liquid was spilled on the wooden surface from all the sloppy drinkers who tried to fill their cups, and an another part was already dried up, making the table look sticky at places.
I turned my head back to Michael and passed him a death glare in response.
We'd barely been in this house for three minutes. It had taken me thirty minutes to convince mom to let me go to this party, and another ten to squeeze my body into my one and only black dress, so I was not going to spend the next three hours taking care of a drunk Michael once again.
That wasn't going to happen. Not on my watch.
"Geez, relax, Bree," laughed Michael, probably noticing the smoke billowing from my ears, "I was just kidding."
I arched an eyebrow at that but he just chuckled. "Come on, I'm serious. I promised I wouldn't drink after all, didn't I?"
I gave him a slight nod. "Okay... Back away from the drinks and I'll believe you."
"I'm not a child, Bree," he responded, but I could see the disappointment in his eyes as he shuffled further away from the drink table.
"Whatever you say, buddy." I followed him as we travelled the improvised dance floor, which was nothing but the house's living room plus a couple of seemingly new disco lights, flashing through the dim lit room.
This party was very much alike to Carly Duncan's Valentine's Day fiasco. People danced frantically to the beat of the song, minding their own fun in their revealing clothes.
And speaking of the Devil, I could spot Carly Duncan somewhere at the edge of the crowd as she moved her body to the beat of the song, her short red dress bathed in the blue light making her look like a 3-D dancing mannequin.
"Where are we going?" I demanded, seeing as we were wandering the dance floor and unintentionally getting closer to Carly.
Michael shrugged, turning his head toward me as he kept walking. "Well, you asked me to move away from the drinks, so that's exactly what I'm doing."
"Michael!" Carly squealed, her high heels clanking on the hardwood floor as she headed toward the two of us. We met half-way near a broken lamp randomly abandoned onto the floor and stopped to greet each other.
Carly approached Michael, flashing him a smile before aiming for a gentle hug. Meanwhile, I remained still in my spot, trying to ignore the green eyed monster slowly growing inside me.
