Wasted || Liam Payne

Chapter 9

// This is officially the most I have ever written for one story and I want to thank those of you who read consistently and give feed back! It's so encouraging to know that others are enjoying this as much as I am! Sorry for the short post but my laptop has broken. I will be adding the dedication and cast of characters soon, sometime between this update and the next so please be watching for it! X.x // 

Sydney

Faded images of incoherent fantasies slip through the clenches of my slowly waking mind. My mouth feels like cotton and my head like there's a brick resting upon it. My lungs are weighed down and struggling to breath. My mind wanders to the memories of the night before, no dream could compare, and no hangover could ruin the image of Liam Payne smiling at me, telling me I'm pretty, pulling my hands from my face and looking into my eyes as he speaks with his sexy accent.I clasp my legs together as the thought of his voice causes a stirring between them. In response to my slight movement, I suddenly have an arm draped awkwardly across my neck. I squint my eyes to see a tuft of blonde hair in front of me and immediately think Brittney, but, then remembered the past few days. Brittney and I haven't spoken and... and this is Niall! But, the arm doesn't belong to him, which must mean...  

Liam.  

I close my eyes again and relish in the time I have between the two of them. For the hundredth time this weekend I acknowledge the fact that I am living the dream of millions of girls, but this time, I push it away. I'm going to do my best to just enjoy the experience while it lasts, which can only be a couple days really...  

My heart sinks as reality sets in. Despite the fact that every moment with them is surreal, the thought of it ending is something that hadn't crossed my mind yet. It's hard to be happy when you know it's only temporary, but the reminder that I'm just another girl in another town takes away my nerves. If I'm not special, and they wont remember me, than I may as well do as I please. I push my fingers through Niall's hair, brushing it off of his forehead and then stretch over to give him a soft kiss on the patch of skin that his hair covered moments before. He truly does look like an angel while he sleeps. I feel bad for being so hard on him last night, if I could do it all over again I would have been by his side the entire time.  

Then there's Liam. 'My Liam' I've called him for so long. To know that he's not really mine, and never will be is a truth that I've had to rationalize for years, but having met him only makes that more clear. He's still Liam: beautiful and sweet, but he's not mine, and it's never been more apparent to me than it was last night. Yet with him here in my bed, I can pretend otherwise for just this morning. I'm not bold enough to link my fingers between his, but maybe I'll just.. 

I scoot closer to him and pull his arm further around me, cradling it between my own like I would a pillow, or a Teddy when I was 5.  

"Mmmm" He whimpers in my ear and chills run up my back in response. I bury my face in the pillow I'm sharing with Niall and try to sleep off the rest of this alcohol.  

Liam 

The moments before I wake are always filled with hesitation. Do I really want to enter an existence of depression and drunken mistakes when I can stay in the simple bliss of my subconscious?  I feel a warm body press itself against me and I moan lightly. Maybe last nights mistake will want a morning reprise.  

I open my eyes and see the splash of brown hair spread across the blanket. Immediately my heart stops as I try to recall what I could have done to lead me back to.... but then a soft snore and a peak of blonde on the other side of the bed reminds me that the girl with my arm in her hands is Sydney, and Niall on the other side of her is sure to wake her if she isn't already. Niall on the other side of her... shit! I woke in the middle of the night to take my jeans off and Sydney had rolled over, I had no choice but to let her sleep between us. At least it's me she's curling up to and not him. The thought of her ass rubbing against my legs is enough to cause her to feel me. I don't mind, I know she isn't interested in hooking up, and I'm not either. I haven't known her long, but I know that she's the type of girl who sex means something to. Like the type of guy I use to be, before sex became a form of retaliation against fate.