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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
B R A D ' S P O V
All parties were the same nowadays — there was always too much perfume and aftershave, the stench of alcohol was too familiar to anyone's nostrils three minutes into the party and all the girls were showing off everything they had.
Don't ask why I'm at another party after the tragic event where I almost broke a guy's nose because of some small, stupid phrase about Mollie.
She will quite literally be the death of me.
Although I try not to show it, especially around her, she brings the worse out in me. She aggravates me — possibly unknowingly — and then I turn into a dickhead in the snap of your fingers. No, I do not have bipolar.
Anyway, the party. Tristan managed to persuade me to come here and I totally regret it as girls grind upon me and I roll my eyes as Tristan shoots me a thumbs up.
I finally remove myself from the crowd and walk over to Tristan, pulling him over to the side so he can actually hear me talk.
"I'm not feeling the party, so I'm gonna go home," I announce and he groans.
"Come on! The party hasn't even started yet," He wiggles his eyebrows and I sigh.
"I'll see you tomorrow," I say and he rolls his eyes at me as I grab my jacket. Maybe it was a good idea I didn't party tonight since it was actually a school night and mum would murder me if I had another day off school.
I climb into my car and fasten my seat belt before leaving the mansion that belonged to one of Tristan's friends. Although I was slightly intoxicated, I could drive.
I don't really pay attention to where I'm going, I only pay attention to the fact that I pull up in front of Mollie's house. I sigh, and climb out the car — this is why my intoxicated self should stay at parties and not at girls' doors. Especially Mollie's.
I ring the doorbell and tap my foot impatiently, and she eventually opens the door. I grin at her and she rolls her eyes and starts closing the door.
I stop the door from closing with my hand and grin at her, "You wouldn't turn down your guest as soon as they get here, would you?"
"No, I'm doing it just for you," she says and she's already annoyed by me being here, in which I smirk at her. "You should feel special."
"Oh, I do." I grin and she sighs.
"What are you doing here?"
"I missed you."
"You saw me after you dropped me off from school. Besides, my mom and dad are home, so you can't come in," she sighs again. Does she ever stop sighing?
"I'm sure they'll be fine if you keep the door open," I wink and she rolls her eyes, a habit that I think only occurs when she's around me.
She opens the door wider after a few seconds of silence, "Follow me into the kitchen."
I nod and step inside and close the front door and slip off my shoes. She's in her pyjamas — short shorts and a baggy t-shirt — and I manage to keep my eyes up and not down.
"I thought you said your parents were in?"
"I said that to try and get you to leave," she laughs and I nod, sitting on a kitchen stool as she makes a tea. "You wreak of alcohol, by the way. Driving here was a bad idea."
"I only had one or two beers, I'm fine," I assure her and she sighs, stirring the milk and handing me a tea.
I thank her and she looks around the kitchen, looking at everything but me. She pauses as she looks out the window, biting her bottom lip like she always does when she's thinking.
"A penny for your thoughts?"
"No penny," she shakes her head. "I'm not thinking about anything."
"You are, I can tell," I stand up and walk over to her, blocking her view of the window. "Because when you think, you pull back your bottom lip and furrow your eyebrows and hum a little tune that most people wouldn't hear but I hear it. . ."
Her breath hitches as my hands place themselves on her waste and my heart flutters as she does so. I begin leaning in, our lips almost touching and she opens her mouth to speak.
"That's because you're a stalker," she blurts and I sigh, rolling my eyes and stepping back.
"I'm gonna go home," I reply, annoyed and she stands up straight, no longer leaning on the counter.
"Not whilst you're intoxicated," she shakes her head. "You can sleep upstairs and I'll crash the sofa."
"That's not fair on you, you–"
"Go upstairs," she says defiantly and I roll my eyes, picking her up and swinging her over my shoulder so I can still see properly as I walk upstairs. "Brad! Put me fucking down!"
"I like this view," I remark with a smirk and she hits my back (not that it actually hurt me at all). I let her go and she falls on the bed, and she grunts. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, whatever," she sighs. "But if you're going to sleep in the same room as me, you sleep on the other side of the bed completely, okay?"
"Alright, alright," I nod and begin walking out. "I'll let you get changed in private."
"I'm already changed, dumbass," she laughs and I stop walking, and turn around. "You're the one that needs something else to–"
"I sleep in boxers, sweetheart," I pull off my shirt and she turns around. "But don't worry, I'm on the other side of the bed so I can't try anything."
"Right okay," she mumbles and climbs under her bedsheets. I strip down, then off the light and climb under the sheets too, making sure I was on the other side of the bed. I knew I wouldn't sleep any time soon.
As the room fell silent, I hear her teeth chattering and edge closer, "Mollie, come here."
She turns around and budges closer to me, and I put my arms around her, keeping her warmer, hopefully.
"You could've just closed the windows." She laughs and I bury my head in her neck, sighing. She smelt like honey.
"I know, but I'm too tired to get up." I admit, my voice lazy.
And, for once in a very long time, my insomnia subsided and I fell to sleep peacefully with Mollie in my arms.
