your body is a weapon → brad simpson | ✓

sixty two

Once Brad and I had finished making out a few more times, we decide we should probably let the boys know how it went since they're probably all outside the door waiting for us.

I climb off of Brad's lap as he sits on the sofa before we get up and walk towards the door. His lips kiss at my neck as I reach to open the door but I laugh lightly and turn around in his grip.

"Stop kissing me before they all think we're filming porn or something," I say, his lips move from my skin as he looks up at me. He presses a final kiss to my lips.

"I'm sorry if I want to kiss you after not seeing you for two and a half months," he says firmly. "I don't know when I'm gonna see you again after today, and I wanna make the most of the time we have together."

"Okay, but not when your friends are waiting outside the room for us," I say, pushing some of his hair up. I notice he's had it cut, and it suits him very well.

"Fine," he mumbles, reaching for the door handle and I quickly move from in front of him and make my way out.

Connor was sat on the stairs waiting for us, while James was laying on the floor with his eyes shut, humming a tune. Tristan was no where to be seen.

"Where's Tristan?" Brad asks, also noticing the absence of his blonde friend.

"Went to make some food," Connor says, standing up and kicking the side of James' stomach. "Stand up."

James eyes flash open and he quickly jumps up from the floor. "You're out! Are you two friends again now?"

"Something like that," Brad says, shrugging as he takes ahold of my hand. "That's not your business anyway. How long were you guys stood out here?"

"An hour and a half?" Connor says I surely. "I can't remember, but ever since you went in there together."

"Oh, right," Brad says. "How long do you think Tristan will be?"

"He went in not long ago, so probably half an hour?" Connor suggests with uncertainty. "Why? What are you thinking of doing?"

"We're gonna go upstairs," Brad says, and I smile at the boys before letting go of Brad's hands and pulling them in for a hug.

They were confused when I pull away, "thanks for sorting everything out for today."

"It's fine," Connor smiles. "You make each other happy, don't see why we couldn't help you."

For the first time since I've met Connor, I feel like I've finally established a friendship with him, which is weird considering everything that's happened in the last two months.

"We're gonna go upstairs," Brad says from behind me, taking ahold of my hand. "Call us down when dinner is ready."

"Alright," Connor says, letting us go up the stairs. Brad holds my hand tightly.

We make it into his room and he opens the door. Compared to the last time I saw it, it was a mess. His bed was unmade, there was dirty clothes all over the floor—I could've sworn I saw a bra that probably belonged to someone other than him—and what struck me the most was the beer bottles all over his floor.

In the six months that I've known Brad, I've never seen him consume alcohol once. Even at the party where he was making out with Frankie, I could tell he was completely sober.

I turn to him with my lips pursed, and he's already inhaled sharply and looking at me nervously. I'm not sure what to say, but I know he feels guilty. He wouldn't have drank alcohol if it wasn't for me, or for this stupid engagement.