|COMPLETED|
"Michael Langwood has Wattpad," I repeated and smirked at him, trying not to laugh.
"I told you it's NOT my account," he grunted, "It's a friend's who stopped using it so he passed it to me and -"
"Shhh," I pressed my finger on his lips...
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Ten:
After two more times of entirely cleaning up his stomach, Michael had eventually passed out.
I had to make sure to catch him before he collapsed to the ground, missing the patio chair by only two inches.
I wish I had asked him how much he had to drink. Or, how much he hadn't drunk.
It was impressive what kind of effects alcohol could have on people.
Not even three days before we had been annoying each other via private messages on Wattpad (even though he hadn't known it was me). And now, Michael Langwood was standing next to me on a patio chair by his former girlfriend's house, his head propped onto my lap as he snored ever so slightly in the silence of the night. Only that it wasn't that silent. The music coming from inside the house was so loud it might've killed my hearing.
But I was not one to complain. I did like weird things. Therefore, this night kind of appealed to me... In a strange, completely absurd way.
As Chloe had said, it seemed like a night from one of those teen fictions from Wattpad. And I was one of the people that lived within books. So as the cold wind of the night whisked through my hair, I found myself feeling something feverish spread within me.
Something... warm. Maybe I had telepathically gotten drunk just by watching Michael. Maybe. Or maybe it was something else. Something that was so estranged to me, that I couldn't put my finger on.
I didn't feel like myself. But then again, what girl that goes to a party ever feels like herself? Or perhaps there are a lot of girls like this in the world. How would I know?
"Bree?"
I flinched.
"Bree?" The voice called again, and it was Matt Leniston, Michael's friend and member of the popular gang, who had appeared out of the darkness.
It still amazed me how so many people actually knew my name. It was really refreshing to hear.
"What happened?" He came closer to us, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets as his teeth chattered from the cold. Seeing him made me aware of my own frozen hands. When did the temperature decrease so much?
"Michael passed out," I summed out the last twenty minutes. "What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be at the party?"
He shrugged, removing a strand of his light brown hair from his eyes. "It's not that fun, really. And I'd just heard someone talking about some guy that punched Michael...? But now that I saw his broken nose, I don't need a confirmation anymore."
Matt took a seat on the other chair across me. He looked tired. Dark circles hung underneath his eyes, his expression devoid from any other emotion. "Is he okay now?"
