No Labels (Coming Soon)

No Labels (Coming Soon)

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WpMetadataReadOngoing<5 mins
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Wed, Apr 3, 2013
"You can't keep living like this," he whispers, the freckles on his face pulse pain as he smiles a soft, reassuring smile at me. His brown hair that was spiked at all times was now falling into his deep, sea-weed green eyes. His minty scent floats into my nose making me want to groan as I could taste a bit of the mint coming from his breath and cologne. His cold, hard hands go around my waist and he looks me straight in the eyes and smiles, as I pry my eyes from his beauties. His smile donned with a small dimple stands out on his freckled face. The freckles were light, as if they melted in with his pasty skin. "Not without you," I whisper, a devious smile on my lips. I was hammered in the middle of school and he could see this as his reflection stares back at him from my muddled eyes. He shakes his head at me and frowns at little bit. "I don't drink, Dylan, not your Tanqueray," he says before letting go of waist and walking the other way down the abandoned, blue locker filled hall. Papers were scattered everywhere and you couldn't tiptoe and not step on one. I knew he was being honest, that's better than any gentleman. Read more to find out if Dylan and Chase find a way to cut Dylan's addiction or if they will get plastered trying.
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#850
drunk
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(THE EDIT OF THIS STORY HAS BEEN TEMPORARILY REMOVED. IT WILL BE PUBLISHED AGAIN SOON) I clear my throat and pop my head into view with the most friendly smile I could muster. "Hi," I say softly, stepping closer. "Um, I'm Cammie." To my relief, she smiles back. "Hi," she says simply. She was... a little drunk, and by the redness in her eyes, probably high. She smelled of beer and weed and as she turned to the shower to pull the curtain back, I noticed the tramp stamp on her lower back that read "This was a dare." "A real tease, isn't she?" I recognized that voice. It made my skin crawl and sweat break out over my entire body. My body turns and my blood runs cold when the gray eyes from downstairs meet mine. What are the odds that my roommate brought this sleaze-bag home? "Uh..." is the only word that is able to exit my mouth. He chuckles and leans back into the couch behind him, his eyes not leaving mine. A pair of dimples so large you could fill them with water and call them kiddie pools. "I-I guess you can't choose your roommate when you apply so late," I say with a nervous laugh before my hand comes up to hold my own arm in an attempt to comfort myself out of this awkward moment. His eyebrows raise until they disappear under his floppy bangs. "Yeah, I guess that's true. Hopefully you don't mind me bringing girls around here often." I thickly swallow as his words make their way through my brain, and I take a small step back until I feel the bathroom door against my back. "What?" I blurt out. He smirks and takes a few steps closer to me, his hands slowly, slowly coming to rest on the door on either side of my shoulders, about six inches between our faces. He smelled better than she did, that was for sure. His scent alone could have made me blush. "Cause you can't choose your roommates, and I ain't going anywhere, roomie."

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