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 」 FIVE.
"tell me, Marguerite, why did you end up here?"
his eyes were boring holes in her conscience. she looked away; it was her only option.
"i told you i don't know."
"so, Marguerite, you just happened to drop by for no reason at all, yet you're right here, right now, two weeks after a rather unfortunate encounter, with no explanation as to why?"
she could collapse at his sentiment, at every passing word that reassured her that no, she wasn't
out of her mind.
"t-two weeks after; you—you..." she would never have been bold enough to complete her own statement, but of course he got it. he could see through her transparent skin so much easier than she could ever understand him.
"yeah. i remember," he remarked reluctantly, a small smile of mild embarrassment gracing his features in a manner she thought she'd never get to witness. "i was drunk, Marguerite, but i didn't lose track of anything. i told you i—i just didn't." and suddenly it seemed like too much for him to express. "don't worry. i've had worse moments."
"you couldn't be legal."
"they make fake ids and pretty faces, Marguerite. certainly you're old enough to know that." and his tone.
it was too acidic, too biting. she didn't like it. she didn't want to hear that tone. ever.
if she were to ever see him again, that is.
"i know what a fake id is, Morrison. or whoever you are. they just don't work." of course she'd never tried. Archer had tried once, with his friends. they all got them from the same source, and they were stupid enough to all try together. the eagerness on their youthful faces must've been enough; the bouncers likely never even carded them.
"apparently they do, or else you wouldn't have seen me drunk that night, would you?" he looked at her then, a perfectly gilded look, and combined with the mixture of honey and depth in the way he spoke to her, like no one else existed but the two of them in their singular moment,
it rendered her
absolutely captivated.
there was no way she'd be able to escape him now.
"i guess not."
he lowered his voice, and...goodness. it was over for her. he had to know exactly what he was doing to her. "so tell me why you're here."
she looked at him, trying to match the intensity of his gaze with one of her own, and she could only assume she looked like a ten-year-old telling her friends her boyfriend was the one. "you know why, Morrison. you know why i'm here."
both of them had begun leaning forward as if in confidence, like they were whispering precious secrets into each other's ears in hopes no one else would know what the two of them shared.
"then go somewhere with me, Marguerite."
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