According To Love

Chapter Two.

Georgia's pov

Luck really wasn't on my side tonight.

That was the one thought running through my head as I swayed down the basically deserted street, the few people who I passed casting me curious looks.

As much as I didn't exactly enjoy being blatantly stared at, I really couldn't blame them.

I must have looked a drunk mess, which being honest, I was.

My once curled hair now loosely fell in unruly tangles, framing my face in a mass of blonde waves.

The fitted black dress I'd borrowed off Leah earlier tonight was concealed by my miniature denim jacket, and the matching heels had been given up on and were now clutched in my hand instead.

I didn't even want to imagine what my face looked like. It was still wet from the tears, and I could feel the mascara covering half my cheeks. The false eyelashes Leah had forced on me I'd peeled off ages ago, and with most of my mascara gone, my eyes were a blotchy state.

It was no wonder I was receiving so much looks. I was sure if I saw a drunk, makeup smeared girl in bare feet stumble past me at almost three in the morning, I'd be staring too.

The difference is I would help her, or at least ask if she was ok. Which I wasn't.

I wasn't after pity, just someone, anyone, to actually care would have been nice. The two guys I'd bumped into, literally, had asked that, but me being me I'd brushed them off.

And now I'd never felt so alone.

I knew I was just feeling sorry for myself, and would soon get over it.

Like everything else tonight, I blamed my scattered mess of emotions on the alcohol.

I figured it was easier that way rather than face reality and have a crying match all over again. I was going to hate myself in the morning for being so darn pathetic but right now, I was honestly in a fuck all kind of mood.

Continuing the twenty-minute trek to the bus stop, my bare feet ache painfully with each step, and I try to ignore how the temperature had grown impossibly colder.

All I wanted was to pass out and sleep for ten years.

I can't help the way my shoulders slump in relief as the bus stop comes into sight, after what had seriously felt like hours of walking.

I was pretty sure I'd stood on over ten stones by now, and that my feet were bleeding too. Typical, but I couldn't bring myself to care, all I cared about now was getting on a god damn bus and out of the cold.

Pace quickening, I march up to the sign with all the schedules, my eager eyes running across each one until they land on the bus going to where I lived. Which was due in forty minutes. Forty minutes. Forty freaking god damn minutes.

Was this a joke? Sometimes it felt like my life was.

So I was supposed to sit here, drunk, tired, and in the freezing cold for forty minutes? I hated the idea, but then again, it wasn't like I had an alternative.

Biting back tears, I chew hard on my bottom lip to keep myself from screaming out in annoyance.

I couldn't believe it. Forty minutes? Surely I'd die of cold by the time it arrived anyway.

Walking over to the bench, I slump down on it, disappointed and alone, yet angry and about to kill someone at the same time. I was still trying to process the whole forty minute thing.

I sit for a few moments, completely lost in my own thoughts before a deep voice tugs me out of them.

"Rough night?"