PEACHES [bws]

28. PEACHES

He frowns. "You sure? I don't think being alone is a good idea tonight. You're still upset."

"I'll be fine. And I'll come straight over tomorrow morning with McDonalds breakfast and a Starbucks," she swedes him with food.

"Okay, only because I'm greedy," he says. "I'll order you an Uber."

"I can order it myself—,"

"You're buying McDonald's tomorrow. I'll pay for your Uber."

"Okay, Gray."

❛ ━━━━━━･ ❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

Summer was sat on her bed, her lips pursed as she scrolled through her phone. It was almost eleven at night and she was far from tired. She needed to do something to take her mind off of Brad.

Brad, Brad, Brad. That's all she could think about and she knew it was because of her unprecedented schoolgirl crush on him. I guess that's what made it worse when she found at how she was spoken about by him to Tristan.

She gets up off of her bed and goes downstairs, putting some music on. She shuffled through the cupboards in hope to find some baking ingredients but she didn't have any.

Guess that took baking off of her list of distractions.

She made herself a cup of tea and sat down in her front room, letting the music fill her ears but it didn't feel loud enough. It didn't make it impossible for her to think like it would if she had put it on during studying.

With a small sigh, she grabs her phone and scrolls down her contacts before stopping on Sophie's name. Neither of them had spoken after Charlie and Summer had broken up and they rarely even acknowledged each other.

But Summer knew Sophie would be at a party like she always is, so she clicks the call button and prays for an answer.

She gets one, and as soon as they've exchanged a few words, Sophie had texted an address only down the road from Summer's house where a party was currently taking place.

Summer goes upstairs and changes out of her pyjamas and into a dress Sophie had bought her while they were still friends. She doesn't do much makeup since she didn't really need it, so soon she's walking down the road in her dress and some heels that she didn't even realise she owned.

The party was crowded but it was a standard party. There were mostly people making out or gossiping or taking way too many shots.

She just went through the hallway to grab a drink from the kitchen. Her fingers ghosted over a bottle of water before she let her hand grasp a bottle of beer instead.

She'd never drank before since she's actually alcohol-free, but tonight she needed to take her mind off of a certain brown haired boy, and she had heard that drinking does the trick.

However, Brad was at the same party, slowly drinking his cider as he sat next to Connor on the sofa, girls giving him lap dances as he pretended to be interested. He hadn't drank as much as usual, he didn't feel like he had any energy.

The girl on his lap runs her hand up his arm, along his bicep, before resting it on his shoulder.

"Why don't we take this somewhere else?" She says seductively. Brad glances over at Connor who was making out with a random girl, before nodding and downing his cider and going up the stairs.

Hopefully, this time he won't be so out of it that the girl ends up leaving again. It's not like he got blue balls earlier since he was barely even turned on.

She pushed him down onto the bed and he gripped her waist, bringing her down with him as he sat at the edge. Their lips moved sloppily and he clenched his eyes shut, pretending that it was Summer on top of him.

He pretended it was her waist he was gripping, her soft lips he was kissing, her soft touch instead of the girl's rough one.

The girl grasps his hair in her hands and tugs gently as she dry humps his hips, friction warming up their bodies as she lets out a few moans.

"Fuck, Summer," he practically whimpers out and the girl pulls away quickly, a look of disgust on her face.

"What did you just call me?"

He blinks, disoriented for a passing moment. He didn't mean to let her name slip, he was just so caught up in pretending it was Summer that he had forgotten for a moment that it wasn't her.

"You're such a fucking arsehole!" She scoffs, standing up off of her, her lipstick smudged. "Fuck you!"

Brad rolls his eyes as she turns on her heel and exits the room, slamming the door shut. With a sigh, he runs his hand through his hair and falls back against the bed.

He wanted to forget about Summer so he wouldn't have to admit that he caught stupid feelings for her.

He gets up and decides it would be best if he went and got a drink. Drink, drink, drink. He'll pass out and hopefully not remember today even happened if he drank enough.

He walked downstairs and through the crowded hallway where a girl was on her knees eating another girl out. He just walked by, remaining unbothered, to go and get a drink.

The kitchen wasn't too packed, a group of boys talking amongst themselves and a girl in a pink bodycon dress who was downing a can of cider.

Brad took a double glance as he notices the long, rich hair and recognised the curves he's ran his hands up and down so many times.

"Peaches?"

He wasn't sure what was more surprising: her being at the party or her drinking.

She brings down the can from her lips after she's finished it, looking at Brad. She was so out of it that she just smiles at him.

"Bradley!" She cheers, putting her can in the bin before approaching him and stumbling a bit. He puts his hands on her forearms as he notice her loss of balance. "What are you doing here?"

"Could ask you the same thing, peach," he says.

She glares at him as she hiccups. "I told you not to call me that."

"I know," he says. "It's a force of habit. Why are you here, though? This isn't your scene."

"Well, I was trying to forget about you," she slurs. "Got told drinking does the trick. But you're everywhere! Wherever I go, whatever I think, you're always there."

His eyes soften at the girl who had clearly drank way too much for a lightweight. She quickly realised his hands are still holding her arms and goes back a step, letting go of him.

"I'm meant to be mad at you because you're an arsehole," she quickly remember. "You shouldn't even talk to me."

Despite getting called an arsehole more than once tonight, Summer saying it actually hurt his feelings.

"I know. I don't deserve to talk to you."

She scrunches up her nose. "Don't try and make me feel bad, Brad. You got yourself into this mess because you can't treat people with any respect at all."

He was about to respond when she feels her legs just give way and she almost falls to the ground. She was so drunk, her body reacting to the alcohol strangely.

Brad grabs her arms again, bringing her back up. "Come on, pea—Summer, let me take you home, yeah?"

"Yeah," she hiccups. "I'd like that."

unedited.