your body is a weapon → brad simpson | ✓

twenty one

I definitely didn't feel up for this damned party but here I was anyway, stood in a crowd of sweaty and drunk teenagers. I'd been here for barely five minutes and I wanted to leave.

Sighing, I push myself through the busy crowd to get myself a drink since it's going to be the only thing that gets me through this night.

My dad was going to pick me up tonight since he doesn't want me walking around late at night again in case I end up being on the receiving end of an attacker.

"You okay?" Cherry asks before swinging back her drink. I smile and nod, looking around myself. I didn't know Jerome—the boy hosting this party—and I didn't know many people here either.

Brad and I had managed to avoid each other since Brad hadn't been at school since Wednesday and neither of us had messaged each other to talk. I think I was too scared to, in case I was wrong and he got annoyed at me.

I felt awful for being such a shitty friend and I know deep down that I should talk to him, but I was too nervous and whenever I typed out a message to him, I backed out and deleted the entire paragraph. He probably doesn't want to talk to me and that's why he's not been at school.

I take a gulp of my beer before topping it up with another bottle. I didn't want to get too drunk since my dad won't be impressed if I'm off my head.

"We're gonna go to the dance floor," Cherry says as Frankie and Violet wait for her. "You wanna join?"

"No, it's fine. I think I'm gonna stay in here for a bit," I smile, urging her to leave and soon enough, she's being dragged away.

The house I was in was large and there was still plenty of room left, even though there's about two hundred people here. It was barely half past eight and red solo cups already littered on the floor.

I end up making my way through to the dance floor after a while of standing alone. I felt awkward whenever a new group of people would walk into the room and I had to escape the loneliness.

"Sorry," I mumble out, my back flat against the wall as I weave my way through the living room where everyone partied. I sip on my drink once I've found some space to stand.

My eyes scan the room, looking for someone without meaning to, and I end up finding a mop of curly hair. Brad was here.

I inhale sharply, looking away as his head turns to look at me. He was surrounded by a group of girls and he stood next to Tristan. I didn't miss the cut on his cheek. He got into a fight, maybe he attacked someone else. I don't know anymore.

I look out at the people dancing, humming to the tune of the catchy pop song playing. I notice someone approaching me and I'm surprised to see two boys smirking at me. I roll my eyes as I look away.

"Hey, pretty face," one of them says. He was tall and broad but he wasn't my type at all. I didn't want to get with anyone tonight anyway. "How come you're all alone?"

I shrug absentmindedly, my eyes flickering behind their shoulders. Brad was no longer next to Tristan but the blonde was heavily making out with one of the girls lazily, one hand holding a beer as his other arm was slung over her shoulder and tugging her close.

"Care to keep us company?" The other one asks and he flicks his brown hair back.

"I think I'm fine by myself, thanks," I mumble, my eyes falling to my drink that I hold in my hands uncomfortably. I knew coming to this party was a bad idea.

"Come on," the brown haired one moves closer to me, his arm going around my waist and pulling me close so that our hips bounce against each other. I didn't feel comfortable right now.

"We can take this upstairs," the other one says, biting his lip in an attempt to be seductive. I was nothing but grossed out by these creeps but I just look down at my cup nervously.

The one that holds on to me slowly moves his hand down and I let out a gasp of surprise as his hand squeezes my bum firmly. "Just like dough, baby doll. How about we go upstairs?"

"I just want to stay here," I say, my voice shy and quiet but I try my best to stay confident. It wasn't working but I wanted them to take the hint that I'm not interested.

The brunette laughs, turning me around so that I'm against his chest, "playing hard to get, huh?" His hands wrap entirely around my wrists as I try and move away and I drop my drink to the floor.

"Let go of me," I beg as his grip tightens and I struggle against it. I didn't know what to do, I couldn't bring myself to hurt him.

"I think—,"

"She said let go," a voice says from behind me and I turn my head around to see Brad standing there. He pulls the brunette's shoulder and he falls to the ground. "So let go."

"Got a problem, Simpson?" The brunette smirks but Brad simply tears his hands off of me.

"You hurt her," Brad pushes the man backwards, causing him to stumble against the wall. A crowd was forming and I rub my wrists to help subside the pain.

"She was enjoying it," the man chuckled out, his eyes flickering to me and he winks. I felt revolted by him.

Brad shoves him up against the wall, gripping his shirt. It was uncanny how similar it looked to the other night.

"You better leave this party before I rip your fucking face off," Brad growls out, his knuckles turning white. "And I don't want to see you talk to another woman again, otherwise you won't live to see the next day."

I step forward to get Brad away, but Tristan was one step ahead of me. "Come on, mate. We don't want a fight."

Brad doesn't say anything, he keeps his glare set on the man before pushing him against the wall as he lets go of his shirt. The man looked terrified and I bet I did, too.

His eyes meet mine as he turns around and he purses his lips. He didn't know whether to talk to more or not but he decides against it and pushes through the crowd.

Tristan looks at me, taking my wrists gently in his hands to observe them. There were still red. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," I breathe out as the man stumbles out of the house and the crowd disappears. Tristan meets my eyes and I know I should go after Brad and thank him for helping my useless ass.

"Do you wanna go find him and talk to him?" Tristan asks, reading my mind. I nod slowly and he smiles softly. "Come on, I'll help you."

Tristan and I make a beeline out of the lounge that was still too crowded, and he holds my hand softly, like a father does to a child. It was comforting.

When we find Brad, he's sat down on a chair by himself outside, with an unlit cigarette in his hand, contemplating whether to light it or not. When he hears Tristan and I, he turns slowly to look behind his shoulder and a sigh escapes his lips.

"I'll leave you two to talk," Tristan says and I nod with a grateful smile before I watch him leave. When the patio door closes and Brad and I are entirely by ourselves, I slowly approach the chair next to Brad and sit beside him.

Brad glances at me, "You look nice tonight." He tosses the cigarette to the side. I wonder why he wanted to have one.

"Thanks, you don't look half bad yourself," I attempt to joke but it feels so force. It was awkward between us. "I wanted to, um, talk to you."

He leans against he back of his chair, looking at me. "Yeah, I think we need to talk."

edited.