Chapter #33: Take Care of  Me

A/N #1: Before you continue, please click my name and check out my new book. I just posted it, and I really would love some feed back on the first chapter. The name is "Deep Ends" and it involves a guy quite similar to Evan... I know you guys would love it. Thanks again, happy reading :) x


There was simply no word to explain heartbreak, or the feeling of it. Although I've experienced it millions of times in my short life, this one, was 10 times more deep. It was 10 times more painful, in the oddest of ways. Four large beers never tasted so good and replenishing. My mind ceased to exist as I gulfed them down, one after another.

I slammed the heavy, glass mug of beer onto the wooden counter of the bar. The bartender looked at me from beneath his eyes as he dried a cup with his cloth. I looked at him. He had four faces, 8 eyes, and he was moving from left to right. "I'm afraid I can't give you another beer...-"

"P-Peyton," I offered my name, a wet burp slipping through my throat.

"Peyton. I have legal rights to refuse the offer of alcohol to someone who has consumed a certain amount," he shook his forehead, moving his sticky black hair to one side of his face. He was profusely licking the bottom of his lip.

I burped, sluggishly. "You need chapstick?"

He immediately retracted his tongue from his lip. I giggled drunkenly.


"It's cool. I'm- I'm drunk enough anyways."

I shoved both my hands through my hair, letting my head rest against the bar. I could smell the strong scent of the old wood beneath my face, yet it didn't bother me.

"I should visit my parents," I muttered.

The bartender looked at me, gently placing the soaked mug on his sink. He whistled for his employee to close the doors and lock them. I looked at my open purse and wallet. "I could ger... Go."

He shook his head. "8 minutes left, I can give you time to call a cab or a friend."

"I have no- none- nun't friends," I slurred, which slowly turning into a sarcastic laugh. "Oh God! I have no friends! HA!" I let out a wet burp. "I should visit my parents."

He looked at me for a short minute, before leaning his elbows onto the bar. He gave me a soft look of concern. "Don't go anywhere you wouldn't go if you were sober."

I looked up at him, untangling my fingers from my greasy, unruly hair. We held each other's gaze for what felt like a really, really long time. His eyes were green, something that I find immensely stunning. Although I was a crap ton of drunk, I could feel his gaze so strongly on me that it burned through my skin.

"Your eyes are beautiful," I muttered.

He chuckled. "You're drunk. You won't remember anything I tell you tomorrow morning."

I hiccupped repeatedly, before catching my breath once more. "Take care of me."

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk on his lips. His face was sharp, defined, a face that shouldn't be working at a bar. "Take care of me," I repeated, more urgently.

"I don't take advantage. 8 minutes is up, have a safe night."

A sad frown fell onto my face, and his expression immediately changed when he noticed my face breaking out into a small cry.

"My boyfriend dumped me," I croaked. "I don't pay enough attention to him. I am selfish. I never have time for him. I had his baby, and I chose to abort. I have nowhere to go, my rent is overdue, my best friend thinks I'm disgusting for having an abortion even though she claimed she doesn't think that of me. My parents are dead, I can't- I cannot visit them. My new family is distracted with their new child. I ruin everyone who comes into my life. I want to change. Please," I sobbed. "Please take care of me."

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