Anywhere With You • {J.C.}

||Twenty-Seven|Promise||

"Stop to pretend, stop pretending
It seems this game is simply never ending."
-The Modern Age

Sitting in Harlow's driveway, Julian had drank a total of five beers—not including the malt liquor he had chugged on the way there. He didn't want to wake her, she was sound asleep, her soft snores audible over the blaring heat that wasn't warm enough.

He was stuck at a crossroads, unsure if making Harlow his girl was the right decision. In the week of her absence, he had never been more lonely, also guilt ridden from the way he had tried to cut her out of his life. But no matter what, she always seemed to pop up unexpectedly and unannounced.

He shook her shoulder gently, her body moving, but her eyes remaining closed—she was officially passed out. He cut the heat before killing the engine, sighing heavily at his own stupidity. He should've just convinced her to stay at his apartment; he should've never offered to take her home.

Julian got out of the car, making his way around the front of the hood to the passenger side. He thought about opening the door, but knew Harlow would more than likely fall out—most of her body weight leaning against it. Instead, he tapped his knuckles against the glass.

"Harlow." He tapped a little harder. "Harlow!"

She stirred, but only barely—her eyes remaining closed. Julian saw his chance to open the door, seeing her move away from it. The door came ajar, Julian stepping between the frame and the door to keep Harlow from falling out of the car. "Come on, babe... let's go."

Harlow groaned, leaning away from Julian into the center console—her head lain on her sprawled arm.

"No... I don't wanna." She moaned, speaking into the bend of her elbow.

"You gotta. You'll freeze to death out here." Julian slinked his arm beneath her back, pulling her toward him while reaching for her hands.

"I'm gonna be sick."

"Well, do it outside the car." Julian was tugging and pulling, but Harlow was deadweight. Despite being small and slender, her drunken limp body was like sandbags.

Julian managed to sit her up, her head lolling between her legs—hanging just outside the car. Right between his feet, Harlow let go of all the nausea rising up from her stomach—emptying all the contents onto the driveway pavement at Julian's feet. He placed his hand on the back of her head, his face twisting sourly at the vomit puddled at his feet.

A few dry heaves later, Harlow's head raised—looking up at Julian with glazed over eyes.

"Feel better?"

"My belly doesn't hurt anymore."

Julian dropped his hand from her head, sliding his hands under her arms to raise her from the seat. "Watch your step." He warned, coaxing her out of the car. She huddled close, Julian barely able to close the door, walking her toward the house.

"I- I gotta sit down."

"We're almost there. Once you get inside, you can lay down."

"No, no. I gotta- I gotta sit." Harlow protested, slinking down to the porch step; all the while, Julian struggled to hold her upright until she was no longer at his side, but sitting on the cold concrete. He exhaled in a huff, watching as she rested her head on her perched knees.

He turned away from the drunken mess, thinking if he could just open the door, he could coax her inside.

"The door's locked. Where's the key?" Julian's arms dropped to his sides with a thud, annoyed that he had gotten himself into this mess. He was just supposed to take Harlow home—before any pervert had a chance to do something unethical to her. He had witnessed Harlow drunk quite a few times, but he'd never been witness to her hurling, or cussing him out. But then again, she'd never had a reason to curse him before. Perhaps she did now.