29 | not all accidents are bad

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not all accidents are bad


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     I don't remember us pulling off the driveway.

     The night is silent. Not a single word or breath. I try to say something but my mouth doesn't form words, and I sense everyone's as tired as I am. When Justine opens the car door, I recognise the house instantly.

     She answers my unasked question. "Jude and I figured that, since we wouldn't be able to drive each of you home to your own houses, you all would just spend the night at our place."

     I blink. "That's really nice."

     Justine pats my head. "You're welcome."

     Jude snatches a key from below the doormat. A flicker of sound and the lights blare through the room, blinding me. Fuck. My head hurts. I reach for the empty sofa in the living room, sprawling on the pillows.

    "You're so smashed," Laney quips, smirking by the door.

     Like a trigger, Vic turns to her, nostrils flaring. "You're one to talk. What the hell were you thinking, stealing someone's house? I knew you were wild, Burke, but now you're just batshit crazy." He lets out a strangled laugh. "Do you even realise the trouble you've — "

    "Bla, bla, bla," she yawns. "You're boring me."

    Vic loses it. "Your ass is dead — "

    "Guys," Jude hisses from the kitchen. "Our parents are upstairs sleeping their asses of, so I'd rather you guys stay fucking quiet and go to one of the guest rooms or something."

    "And Vic?" Trey adds, quietly but dangerously, "keep scolding her."

    "Damn right," Jude mutters.

     Vic doesn't say anything and grabs Laney's hand, dragging her into one of the said rooms, all while Laney's still complaining.

    I follow their trailing figures, my focus elevated now after the great escape. Something tells me this happens a lot — them arguing and always at the end of each other's throats. Maybe that's why they didn't work out. My eyes instantly find Liv; she sits in a chair next to me, unusually alert. Her eyes follow them, too.

    "Hey." I nudge her with my outstretched hand, but it doesn't reach her. "You alright?"

    "Me?" She chuckles. "Look at yourself. You're basically a sloth."

    "Touché," I slur, and she nudges my foot in return.

     From the kitchen, Trey and Justine come back with a tray of water, passing it around the room. Jude doesn't leave his position in front of the wall. His arms are crossed and his expression is tight, but his eyes are trained on me.

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