Fuck Buddies |•| lrh

6

I stood up shakily and brought my hand to cover my dry, trembling lips. How in the hell am I going to play this off?

First of all, I need to cover the bruise. I nod to myself, happy to have a task to distract my wandering mind. I walk to the bathroom, pulling the bag full of makeup I never use from under the sink and letting its contents spill out onto the counter. I do my best to cover the quickly purpling spot, praying that it's dark enough in Michael's car and at the party that nobody will notice. I do a dark smoky eye with thick eyeliner to add as a distraction, along with a thick coat of mascara to try and counteract my bloodshot eyes. I look myself over in the mirror, huffing before deciding that it's probably only going to get worse the more I add on.

I shuffle to my closet, pulling out a pair of black jeans and a loose, flowy white top. I slip them on quickly, not entirely sure how long the drive is from the party to my house and wondering to myself when Michael will be here. I pull out a pair of black strappy sandals and take the last few moments I will have alone to gather my emotions. I walk to the full length mirror by my door, tugging at my clothes and practicing my smile. Hopefully it'll only have to be fake long enough to walk from the front door to the drinks table. As soon as I have a bit of alcohol in me, the entire day will be a blur and I won't have to worry about Sandra. At least, not for a few hours.

My phone beeps, and Michael's name lights up my screen.

Here.

I look out my window to see his headlights at the end of the driveway. I pray to god Sandra won't be conscious enough to notice as I silently open my bedroom door. I slip into the hallway, tip toeing to the stairs and grabbing the railing. I apply as little pressure on each wooden step as possible, avoiding the second to last one altogether, knowing how it creaks.

I see Sandra's slumped figure on the couch. Based on the deepness of her breath, I can tell she must have passed out after our altercation. I place my hand on the door knob, breathing carefully through my nose and looking cautiously over my shoulder once more. She hasn't moved an inch. Just as I go to turn the handle in my finger tips, I hear a sound from behind me, so quiet I almost miss it. If I wasn't so focused on the unusual silence of the house, I wouldn't have caught it. Sandra had turned slightly, and she continued to stir in her sleep. I let go of my fear and opened the door as fast as possible, slipping out onto the porch and closing the door behind me before she even had time to fully turn onto her other side.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding and placed my right hand over my racing heart. I walk fast paced down the front steps and toward the car parked at the end of the road. What in the hell have I gotten myself into?

I slip into the passenger side door, breathing a quick sigh of relief.

"Well hello to you too," Michael says with a smirk.

"Sorry, I'm a little out of it tonight. Thanks for the ride," I say, rushing my words.

"No problemo, now, I had originally planned to already be drunk by now so let's get to this god damn party!"

"Hey who's that coming down your drive way?" I nearly scream when I hear an unfamiliar voice from the back seat.

"What the hell?" I say breathlessly as Calum makes his appearance leaning on the centre console.

"I said who's coming down your drive way? She looks pissed." His words slur together slightly and I can smell the whiskey on his breath. When I turn to look up the cobblestone pavement, though, I see Sandra wobbling her way towards us.

"Drive."

"What?" Michael asks, confused between all the sudden events around us.

"Just drive!" I yell, and he steps on the gas suddenly, causing all of us to jerk back in our seats.

"Mate, how long have you been back there?" Michael asks, obviously just as surprised by Calum's appearance as I was.

"I'm not sure," he slurs, "but I think that I'm gonna throw up if you keep driving like some crazy person." Michael noticeably slows down, glaring at his friend in the rear view mirror.

"You better not, Hood."

"I will if I need to, Clifford."

"Okay, okay, love birds, are we almost there? I'm extremely ready to get shit faced." I interrupt.

"Yeah just around this corner." Michael mumbles, pulling onto a busy street.

As promised, there's the beach house in all of its glory. A large, lonely cabin right on the beach. The moon shines brightly enough that I can see a sliver of its reflection on the ocean past the crowded drive way. Did I say crowded? I meant fucking packed. I don't know if I've ever seen this many people at one place all at once.

"Okay, lets go get shit faced, miss Harley." Michael smiles reassuringly before opening his door. He begins to walk forward, but I see him sigh and walk towards the back seat to help his considerably drunk friend out of the car.

"Calum, we're back at the party lets go." He pushes his shoulder gently, attempting to pull him from his nap.

"I don' wanna." He says, his voice resembling a small child. I step out of the car.

"Mate lets go you can't sit in my car all night." He makes a small noise of acknowledgment but makes no move to get up off the leathery seats.

"I'll let you see my boobs." I say, completely monotone.

"What?" He sits up fast, hitting his head on the roof.

"Get the fuck out of the car so I can go get drunk, Hood!" I grab his left arm while Michael goes to grab his right, and together we successfully pull him out onto the pavement. He stands up on wobbly legs.

"Woohoo I saw Mickey's boobs!" He says in singsong voice.

"No, you didn't actually." I say, amused by his state of mind.

"Oh. Well then let's go get drunk!"

For once in my life, I actually agreed with Calum Hood. I guess there's a first time for everything.

••••

I'm so sorry this took so long guys! Thanks for sticking with me through all of this anyways, I'll try and post soon