Can't live with him, can't live without him.
Can't live with her, can't live without her.
Val met Michael while he was nearly passed out on the road. Their chance encounter leads to a friendship without boundaries or limits.
Val is Michael's, and Mi...
I had just moved from Lake Norman to Michigan for college. Leaving the comfort of 60-degree weather of North Carolina for the outrageous cold weather of the northwest state had my parents reeling, but it had to be done.
At the current moment, I was dodging drunken partiers who had passed out on the floor at the first frat party of the year. I had been roped into going by my senior lacrosse sister, whose job it was to introduce me to the campus and integrate me into campus life. Unfortunately for me, she had decided to get drunk and party rather than take her job seriously.
I was quite possibly the only sober person in the house and decided to leave before I changed my mind about drinking. I couldn't have a repeat of my mistakes senior year in high school. Michigan was a new start for me, and I intended to take it seriously.
As I stepped out into the late August air, a cool gust of wind blew past me, making me shiver. The outfit I had thrown together for the party tonight was not doing anything to keep me warm.
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Paired with black heels, I was in no shape to be drunk anyways. It was dark out, but the sidewalk was illuminated by streetlights. As I walked down the street, I heard a crash. I whipped around, keys in my fist, but no one was there. I heard a slight groan and realized the crash had come from ahead of me.
Instead of doing the reasonable thing and turning around, I walked every so slowly forward to peer between two cars.
There sat a guy leaning against a car holding his forehead. From the blood rushing down his face, I inferred that it was him who made the crash which resulted in a nasty cut.
Against my better judgment, I walked towards him.
"Are you alright?" I asked.
He didn't say anything or move, so I inched closer.
"Sir? Are you okay? Should I call 911?" I asked again.
He didn't respond, but he did look up at me and squint.
"Who are you?" He slurred.
I sighed. He was absolutely trashed. No wonder he had fallen and taken so long to respond.
"I'm Val. Who are you?" I asked as I sat down on the curb perpendicular to him.
"None of your business," He grumbled and put his head down on his knees. He hissed in pain and picked his head up again.
Ignoring his rudeness, I again tried to help him.
"That's a nasty cut. Would you like me to call 911 for you?"
"No. You're nosy. Go away." He turned away and leaned on the car.
"Fine, asshole. Sit there and bleed out. I tried," I said before getting up and continuing my trek home.
