punks / matt champion

chapter 7

thanku guys so much for over 500 reads this be crazy. and srry for not updating earlier x

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MELANIE'S POV

arriving, ameer parks the car further down the street from the house. "in case the cops come. neighbors are pretty sensitive to noise around here," he said.

we all file out of the car and walk along the curb, my thin strap heels almost echoing down the street.

"hey," ian says quietly, walking beside. "you still haven't told me why you were upset, why you stayed home from school?"

i frown at the question, sighing. "you know how i told you that my mom and i aren't close?"

he nods.

"well, it's because, ever since my dad split when i was a kid, she's literally abandoned me, only returning home once every few weeks."

"shit," he says under his breath, eyes widening.

"she came back last night. tried to pretend everything was normal, like we had an entire history of being loving and caring towards each other. when reality's the complete opposite." taking about this is making me desperate for a drink. "i called her out on it, finally, and she hit me for it."

i look at ian. his brows are furrowed and eyes wide. i look to ameer and merlyn who share almost the same expression. it's obvious they were listening in on the conversation.

we make it to the driveway of this brittany girl's house, and i gotta say, this place looks nothing like i expected it to be. i thought it was gonna be this fucking white house-looking mansion with the little garden and all that shit. but no, it's kind of an old suburban house, mostly wooden.

multiple cars fill the driveway, some on the front lawn. the music from inside can be heard from out here.

i follow the boys inside, particularly sticking to ian. the living room is dim, and filled with bodies, everyone moving.

"aye, lets get drinks," merlyn shouts over the music.

we all agree, but ameer gets whisked away by one of his friends. just merlyn and ian now.

pushing through the heavy crowd, the boys guide me into the poorly lit kitchen. across the stove is a wooden counter lined with a heap of bottled alcohol and few sodas. ian passes us plastic cups and we take our pick, pouring it into the red container. i begin with vodka.

merlyn flinches as guy behind him slaps his shoulder. he turns round, his face lighting up once he realizes it's only a friend. "hey, man," merlyn chuckles slapping hands with the guy. he's kind of cute, middle eastern looking, with dark curls, thick brows, and wearing an orange sweatshirt with a gold chain round his neck.

"ian," the guy nods, then slapping hands with ian.

"aye, mel, this is romil. he makes hot tracks and shit."

"nice to meet you," he smiles sweetly, reaching out his hand. "i'm romil."

"mel," i return the favor, shaking his hand.

"hey, mel, we'll meet you in there, okay?" ian points back to the living room where the majority of people have crowded.

i nod, giving a small smile. although my anxiety had risen since we stepped foot in this house, and i was scared i would loose him amongst all these people, i didn't say anything. simply because i didn't want my new friends to think i was a dependent little bitch.

i return to pouring my drink.

i look up from my cup, only to see the one and only matt champion staring right at me. its only his face, amongst plenty of others, that remains still. i won't lie, he's very attractive. but i don't like him in that way, of course. him commenting on my instagram doesn't mean shit.

in unease i quickly turn away, leaving the kitchen without adding anything to my drink. straight vodka it is.

thankfully, i find the group again, muddled into the crowd.

...

after a few drinks, i find that we've all stepped away from where most of the people are, a lot of them on the verge of either puking or passing out. we stand by the staircase in a huddled group, just talking, i guess.

ameer has rejoined us, a few others also accompanying who i don't know, one of them being that brittany girl. he hangs off of her, laughing. they seem quite cozy, touching hands and all that. she's a pretty girl, tall, slim, with long blonde hair. i look to the right of me to see ian and merlyn chuckling pretty hard, leaning on each other, jumping up and down on occasion whenever the joke was funny enough. they're drunk off of their faces.

letting my anxiety sink in again, i take my current drink and pack of smokes and make my way to the front door in a hurry. when i am met with fresh air, i can't help but let out a sigh of relief. by the window next to the front door is an old couch on the porch, which i make myself comfortable on. eager for a smoke i flip open the little carton in my hand and pull a cigarette out with my lips, then lighting it.

just when i thought all would be quiet and still, the wire door swings open. too anxious to look who it is, i keep my eyes fixated on what's left of my drink.

i can see the body of the person from my peripheral vision, but not their face. it's a guy. the sit themselves directly in front of me, only about two feet away, on an old milk carton. soon my eyes give into temptation, but only to see matt, who, again, is looking back at me.

the boy grins. "you know, smoking is bad for you," he says as he lights his own cigarette.

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HAPPY 8 MONTHS ROMIL AND GRACE YALL BE BLESSING THE INTERNET
UGH FUCK YOURE SO CUTE