"Jesus, Zayn," Niall fumed, his slender fingers threading into my hair as he glared at his friend from over my head, "Can't you save making girls cry for your free time?"
I furiously rubbed my eyes. There were a few things as pathetic as hysterically crying in front of your peers, but yet despite how hard I tried to stop, it was as though my tear duct had recieved a fatal blow and now refused to do anything but pour out every bit of emotion I had stored inside. My tongue curled up in my mouth to give another example of what Zayn could do in his free time, but for once the words got stuck and no snappy reply could leave my lips. Only deranged hiccuping and senseless babbling.
"I can't stand watching girls cry, it's so sad," Harry whispered. He stared off in the distance for a second, his own eyes going misty.
"Great, now we've got two girls crying," Zayn said.
"Wait, you guys," Liam exclaimed, bobbing up and down around the edge of our circle, "Did you not hear what I just said. I got a blow job. Ask me about it so I can tell you in exact detail."
Louis looked around in a flustered panic. "Should I pull the fire alarm?"
"Life," Harry declared. He held a clawed hand over his heart. "Oh, life." I'm pretty sure he was full out crying now. It was hard to tell through my own blurry vision. It was like looking through a glass of water, everything distorted and wavering.
Zayn pulled the cigarette from his lips, letting out a final puff of smoke at Harry. "If you don't stop crying I'm going to put this out on your arm."
"I'm going to pull the fire alarm," Louis decided solemly. He rose to his feet.
"My man meat," Liam continued to blather, "It was up in someone's mouth. Imagine if my ding-a-long was a tuba, and she was a well-known tuba player."
And that's when I heard a calm, underlying tone I recgonized, laced underneath all the chaotic rambling. I turned around, surprised to find Niall so close. Our noses bumped lightly. I reeled back in surprise, but his fingers hooked into my front short pockets and pulled me back. They wriggled lightly against my thigh. His eyes meant buinssness. The normal blue had turned dark and unforgiving like the ocean during a storm, ready to batter anything in sight.
"Abbey," he was saying. "Abbey Farrell."
"I thought she was going to bite if off," Liam said in the background. His voice dropped several octaves. "Not that I would've minded."
"I'm gonna do it," Zayn threatened, holding the glowing red end of his cigarette dangerously close to Harry's arm. "Give you something to cry about."
"Abbey, sweetheart," Niall said. And he was there, and I suddenly realized he was usually there- like always picking me up for school in the morning. Or more like, waking me up when I overslept and standing there laughing as I ran around trying to furiously cram food in my mouth and get dressed. And he would brush my bedhead while I brushed my teeth, his lilac hair soft in the early morning light. Maybe I was purposefully forgetting to turn on my alarm these days, so I could wake up to him shaking my shoulder or blowing on my face like an idiot and just hear him laugh laugh laugh. His presence had become something constant that worked its way so effortlessly into my life that I hadn't even realized it was there.
"Niall," I said, hating that my voice sounded like a whiny prepubescent boy. "Niall, I can't do this. I can't tell you why I'm afraid of touching. I'm sorry." Suddenly I couldn't stop, as though I had to be heard above all his idiotic friends screaming in the background. "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm-"
His hand closed over my mouth gently. "You, Abbey Farrell," he said, "Will never need to apologize for this." He then whipped around and bellowed, "WILL YOU LOT SHUT THE FLYING FUCK UP."
I peeked around him, watching everyone freeze. Liam looking like he was about to take off his pants, and Harry attempting to crawl under the coffee table while Louis had Zayn in a half Nelson.
"Bunch of cock suckers," Niall muttered, lifting me to my feet and directing me towards the bathroom. I stumbled after him blindly, only half aware of him grabbing my shoulders and back peddling me until I sat on the closed toilet lid. I didn't realize I had been anxiously chewing on the strings of my hoodie, a nervous habit, until he gently grabbed the bottom of my jaw and pulled it from my mouth.
It was silent as he ran a washcloth under warm water, before bending down and dabbing it under my eyes. Not one of our comfortable silences either, where we bathed in each other just being there, but thick and full of words I couldn't say and he didn't ask for.
"So did you hear about that thing," I offered, drumming my hands along the porcelain bowl I sat on, "The stock market thing. Man, that looked bad. Real crusher to the economy." He stared at me. "And the weather yesterday." I continued lamely, "Wow. Talk about overcast."
He paused to wring out the washcloth, not looking at me, but instead at the water swirling down the drain. "You have no idea what you're talking about, do you."
"True," I said, "But, I'm pretty convincing. I can go from talking about politics to talking street in like five seconds."
"You are so not street," Niall declared, dropping until he was eye level with my knee. It had recieved a microscopic scrape during my hysterics, but he was looking at it as though he would need to amputate.
"Diggity damn, I am. Come on son, let's go hit up some drugs and such and blaze it. Ha- 4, 20, my brethren. Maybe find some ladies to penetrate sexually."
"Jesus Christ." Niall deadpanned, "Don't talk street." He paused to kiss my knee before grabbing my ankles, hooking them over his shoulders, and pulling me towards him.
"As utterly seductive as this setting is, I'm sitting on a toilet," I pointed out, while his pointer finger rubbed the strip of flushed skin between the top of my shorts and my navel. "And I'm feeling mildly traumatized."
He expression turns sullen, hand stopping its gentle movement. "Sorry," he said, "Oh god, that's my fault. I thought talking would help, and I pushed you and technically I made you cry. Shit, and I promised myself I'd try to never make you cry. You're such a sad cryer, damn it, because you look so sorry like its your fault and-" He paused from him rambling and punched the rubber duck printed shower curtain so it jumped in time with me. "Let's go get drunk and forget this happened."
----------------
"Uh, hello," I said, trying to appear casual as I eased my way onto a bar stool. I balanced my elbows on the counter, the epitome of cool and confident. My arm slipped and I just managed to catch myself from a fall onto the sticky floor. The man behind the counter covered a quiet snicker behind his hand.
"Slippery counters," I mused, running my finger along the surface, "Was this waxed recently? Must be mahogany, judging by the firmness of the wood-"
"Sweetheart," Niall said. He sat next to me with his chin balanced on his palm, head cocked to the side and smiling. He was enjoying watching this.
"Right. Right-o. Bring on the alcoholic liquids," I stalled, eyeing the wall. I wasn't sure if most bars had menus, but this one didn't have any in sight. I was surprised that Niall had agreed to take me out drinking, because he was usually such a hard ass about not wanting me anywhere near alcohol. He just felt bad about the crying mess I had been made earlier, trying to find out why I was afraid of touching. Everybody knew, but nobody really knew, and I think that we both just wanted to forget about it momentarily. Keep pushing the past back until we had no choice but to let it catch up. Besides, this was part of my high school years I didn't have. The getting drunk and being stupid and doing things I would regret in the morning.
"May I have a beer, please," I asked. It was the only name I could think of.
The guy behind the counter set down the rag he was using to clean a glass. "Aren't you a little young to be drinking. Don't you want a glass of chocolate milk or something."
I perked up instantly. "Oooh, actually, I love chocolate milk-" I paused, back peddling, "I mean- it would be nice. But I would like a nice cold beer." I smacked my fist on the counter. "A beer. Damn it."
While he left to go get that, Niall spun me around on my stool. He nursed his drink in his hand, eyes still bright in the dark room. That was basically how everything felt here, dark and hot and crowded and loud. A guy pushed up against my back and Niall frowned and pulled me closer.
"Way to assert your authority there," Niall said, "A beer. Damn it."
"Gotta show these guys who's boss," I exclaimed as my drink was slid over to me. Some of the liquid sloshed onto the counter, and when I asked the bartender for a handkerchief to clean up the mess, he just stared at me.
"Yeah, baby, show me who's boss," someone cat-called as they shuffled past. "Let's see what the little girls got."
I realized that yes, I did not look as old and mature as I could. That people referred to me as cute more then they did sexy (I was called weird and uncomfortable more then anything, but) the jokes about it constantly were getting old. I grabbed my drink and tipped it back, ignoring the sharp tug in my head as I downed the cold liquid and thumped my empty glass on the counter.
"Oh, sweetheart," Niall said, closing his hand around my wrist, "Please don't do what I think you're about to do." He glared at someone checking out my commotion nearby. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea."
"Hey, man," shouted an enthusiastic and clearly wasted passerby. He draped an arm around my shoulder, which Niall casually flicked off. "If the girl wants to drink, then she drinks."
"Another beer. Damn it?" asked the bartender.
I shook my fist at him. "Damn it." He laughed and moved to refill my glass.
Niall pulled me onto his lap, his arms easily looping around my waist and pulling me up against him. I was already feeling it all, like I'd just stepped off a roller coaster, light and adrenaline pumped. I wriggled in his lap, making him bury his face into my hair and groan.
"Abbey Farrell," he muttered, "You better be careful. Self control becomes difficult around you."
"Well, then screw self control," I said daringly, picking up my glass again.
He made a quiet humming sound into the back of my neck, his lips being replaced with the sharp prick of teeth as he bit down. He sighed. "There's something else I'd rather screw."
An hour and a half later, a couple more drinks, and Niall and I were dancing. Not very erotic, as the many people around us were, everyone grinding and sweating on one another. Oh no, the alcohol was hitting me hard, and I felt like I was walking on bubbles, almost. Light and tipsy, the ground sudsy and making it hard to stay upright.
"The WindMill," I shouted, whipping my arms around my head at rapid speed. A ring of space cleared out around me.
Niall moved behind me and began waving his hands out like a cobra until I joined in and he said, "Do the Vishnu!" We were laughing. I tried remembering what we came here for. I was trying to forget something- it was something sad. My memory felt like it was behind a sheer curtain, it was there and I could see it but couldn't make out the details.
"Whoa, sweetheart," Niall exclaimed, catching my elbow before I fell over while doing a sporadic sprinkler move. ("I'm a short wiring sprinkler!") His arm tightened around my waist and pulled me against him, eyes scanning over heads for the door. "I think it's about time to get you to bed."
"Aw, don't be so lame," I said, "It's so early, it's only-" I squinted at the clock on the wall before whipping around, "Niall, Niall, oh my god, I can't remember how to tell time. I don't belong in this realm." I made a clawed hand gesture at the clock.
"Definently bed," he said, as though that confirmed his thoughts. But a groping couple that looked like they were furiously pick pocketing each other bumped into us and suddenly Niall was gone behind a thick, gyrating wall of sweaty people. I spun in a circle, confused.
"Neil!" I called, "Oh damn it. Wait, I meant Niall. Niall!"
"Lost, sweetheart?" someone said. Hands were on my hips suddenly and pulling me against them, grinding on me with such an aggression that I was thrown off guard.
"No, no, I'm trying to find my boyfriend," I tried to explain calmly to the shadowed stranger, but they didn't seem to hear me over the pulsing music. I swung at him weakly but missed by a landslide. "Please stop dancing, you keep accidentally brushing your crotch on me." I paused for a second as their fingers dug into my hips. "Hey, wait. Don't touch me. I don't like touching, I think. I don't. Neil- ugh, Niall!"
While the guy behind me just kept saying "yes" repeatedly in the background, Niall burst through the crowd doing literal jazz hands. "Did somebody call for Neil?" he sang, sashaying into view. He paused when he saw what was happening and immediatly turned bloodthirsty, like a monster baring its teeth. He slid inbetween us, shoving the guy away with one hand and pushing me behind him with the other.
"Niall," I said, dumbfounded, "I don't like touching. Like- a lot."
He sighed. "I know." Then kneeled down and grabbed me around the waist, heaving me over his shoulder. I waved goodbye to the guy that was now on the ground as Niall turned and began to shove his way through the crowd, me held tightly in tow.
"I never got your name," I exclaimed, "I would've loved to continue you dry humping me like a dog, but this is my boyfriend." I pointed to Niall, "And I don't like touching."
"Well, you're a friendly drunk," Niall said once we were situated in his car. He watched me attempt to buckle my self in for a minute, and after I repeatedly stabbed myself in the thigh with the buckle, leaned over and did it for me. "But now what do I do with you?"
"Paint me like one of your French girls," I said lowly, beginning to take off my shirt. Niall glanced over, eyes springing open in alarm as he slammed the brakes and leaned over to shove my top back over my head.
"Ah, okay," Niall said, "Keep that on. I'm not a good drawer, anyway. Let's see-" He watched me for a moment, "I can't bring you home, you're completely wasted, and I can't bring you to my house because my dads home and actually sober."
"Ohmygodohmygod," I exclaimed, "Take me there. People can sleep there. They probably have waffles." I pressed my nose against the window and stared at the neon lights of the Suncrest Motel sign.
Niall made a face, stopping at the red light to push me back into my seat and rebuckle after I tried to dive out at the intersection. "That's so cheesy. Guys always do that- take the girl to a crappy motel and they request a room with two beds but there's only a room with a queen and they frick each others frack-" He frowned, "Did I say that. You're rubbing off on me."
"You know what else is rubbing you," I tried to say seductively. I made a wild grab at his crotch, miss-shot completely, and ended up punching his thigh. Niall moved my hand away from his lap.
"Can you tell the time yet?" he said jokingly, pulling up outside the motel.
"IT'S TIME FOR REBELLION!" I screamed.
"Power to the people," he shouted with me into the night. He came over to my side and helped me out, watching as I slipped away from him and climbed onto the roof off his car. He stood on the ground with his arms crossed, and the neon pink lights from the sign shown across his smiling face and lit up his hair.
"WE RIDE AT DAWN," I continued to scream, "A NEW SOCIETY WILL RISE FROM THE ASHES OF OUR BATTLES, STRONGER THEN EVER BEFORE." I was fist pumping like a madman, as though I could punch a hole through the jet black sky so all the stars could pour out. Niall joined in with me. A couple of guys smoking a few yards away stared before weakly raising their arms.
"Abbey Farrell," Niall laughed, shaking his head, "I can never get enough of you. I could live out an entire lifetime and still never get enough of you." He climbed up onto the hood. "Hopefully I'll never have to."
"So now are we going to go inside this place and you eat chocolate off my bare body," I said, climbing onto his back as we manuevered off the car. I buried my face into his shoulder and breathed him in- he smelled like cheap detergent and smoke and boy and safety. I latched my arms tightly around his neck and legs around his waist, clinging so hard he staggered.
"Ah, no."
"Can I eat chocolate off your body."
"As appealing as that would probably be for both of us, I think you'd rather use a proper plate."
"Can we at least eat chocolate?"
"Damn right we are."
(well this was weird) (drunk abbey would be even weirder then regular abbey idk man) (so I know you guys are all like "whoa why hasn't she said why she's afraid of touching") (but like when people are trying to get over things it really isn't easy to talk about especially in front of a large group of idiots) (it'll happen) (even though everybody knows kinda why) (next chapter is them at the motel I think) (I don't want to be cheesy though I'm already so cheesy people call me Gouda) (sorry) (k bye love you all)