Our Broship [on hold]

Chapter Three

Jason to the side. ;)

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"You're drunk." He replied with.

"Maybe a little but... You're Tate. I know it." I was still laying on the floor. I pathetically waved my arms so he crouched down.

"Nah you're just really drunk." He shook is head and snorted before putting an arm under my knees and on my back. I wrapped my arms around his freakishly long and familiar neck.

He hoisted me up bridal style, the same way he held Molly before walking over to my room which I pointed out for him.

I snuggled up to his chest and felt a wave of nostalgia, we've been in a similar situation when I once fell off my bike; Tate had to haul me back home then come back to get our bikes. Being this close, I was finally able to look at his face properly, I could see the small freckles on his nose and his long lashes.

My vision started to blur as I felt tears prickling at my eyes. They eventually slid down my cheek and as we got inside my room, Tate let out the loudest groan ever.

"You haven't done your bed yet? Oh for god's sake." He sat me down on the desk chair gingerly. "Which box is it?"

My eyes went from the left side of the room to the right to behind me on my desk, where I saw a box labelled 'bed stuff'. It wasn't difficult to find because it was the biggest box so I pointed it out for him and he tore the lid open and took out the bed sheet, the duvet cover and the pillows.

I couldn't speak at the moment, if I tried there would most likely be no sound coming out at all. All I could do was cry like a freaking baby, it wasn't helping anything.

"Are you going sleep in your jeans then?" He asked in a sassy way as he finished putting the mattress cover and bed sheet on nice and neatly.

I took in a big breath, nodded and carefully stood up, using the desk as my support. I pulled my jeans off and kicked them in the corner before pulling my sweatshirt and polo off, throwing it in the same direction.

I crawled into my bed, not taking my eyes off my best friend. My vision was starting to get clearer as less tears spewed out my eyes.

Tate tossed the duvet cover on top of me and just stood there watching me as I made myself comfortable. I was far too overwhelmed at the moment with all these emotions and thoughts and questions and I think I need some time alone and some with Tate to help clear them.

"Why did you help me?" I asked, my voice pipsqueak. Was it a stupid question? Probably, but it was out of my mouth and in the open already.

"You're drunk, just shut up and go sleep, okay?" He sighed and put both his hands behind his head.

"You've changed." I pointed out. All the controlling, the smoking, the darkness and mysteriousness. Where did the fun, outgoing Tate go? The narcissistic one with all his 'I'm better than you' attitude?

"Yeah well, that happens in four years." He slid his hands down his face and shoved them in his pockets. He didn't move away, he didn't even say anything, we were just left in silence for a few moments. Finally he came closer to me and brushed away some hair from my forehead, then he brought his head down and kissed it.

His lips were like silk and felt much more softer than they looked but as I was relishing in the moment, it ended just as quick as it started.

Not a word was said between us as he shoved his hands in his pockets again and started walking in the general direction of the door. I heard a slam then moments later, another.