maybe if she had been called beautiful before with so much drive, she wouldn't have been so
stuck
on the one drunk boy from the street.
but he had meant it in such a way―
she was doomed right from the start.
༻❁༺
―on a girl with bad days, the first b...
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「 I 」 EIGHT.
he called twenty-six hours later. she didn't even know people still made calls.
her ever-hopeful heart was racingas her trembling fingers answered his call. "hello?"
"pretty, pretty girl. can you help me, pleeeease?"
of course. of course.
he was beyond drunk.
still, she told him, "sure."
that was how she found herself on the street where they'd met, the night sky pitch black with few stars scattered across its countenance. she exited her car ever-so-tentatively to search for his certainly staggering figure.
it wasn't hard for her to dodge the other bar hoppers and party-searchers. she had mastered the art of avoiding the gaze of others. around the house, in school, throughout her life, she was only seen when she wanted to be. want. a rare occurrence in her sea of gray.
then she felt a hand close around her wrist. her heart leapt, her mind racing with escape procedures until she looked down at the series of numbers on the arm.
messy. like her mind.
she looked up.
"Margo! no, no, it's Presley. Marguerite is stifling you, isn't it?" his tone was laced with tantalizingly pure honey, his breath coated in whiskey, and she was m e l t i n g.
"hey, you." she couldn't help but smile. it had been so long.
yet it hadn't. she had just seen him the day before.
how had it felt like so many forevers?
"hey, me. yeah. it's Morrison now. sounds cooler than what it used to be."
and she should've asked him. right then and there, while he was drunk. she could've found out who he really was, but her head was spinning too much for her to think clearly.
stupid, stupid girl. why all this fuss over one boy?
"where do you need to go?" she asked him as they walked to her car in an attempt to plan ahead.
he laughed, a golden laugh that she was sure could never escape from his sober form. "anywhere. everywhere. nowhere." he paused, calculated as much as he could. "wherever you want, Margo."
it sent a shiver down her form. he tried to walk closer to her, overestimating and running into her side. "sorry."
but she was already afire from the contact.
they had reached her car before she knew it. "Morrison, please. where do you need to go?"
"i...i can't go back," he said cryptically but somehow all too clearly. his eyes darkened in a manner she hadn't witnessed before; he looked so sad. he had a significantly wider range of emotions when jack daniel's was running through him. he looked up at her, eyes almost desperate, and somehow she already knew what he would say.
"let me stay with you?"
she didn't have the willpower, not so late at night, when she was tired and he was a dream, to turn him down.
"yeah, yeah. of course."
of course. she had said of course.
and the worst part was that she fully meant it.
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