Neely's POV:
A few body shots later, I finished another beer and fire tingled through my arms and torso all the way to my fingertips and toes. Hanging on to Collin to be able to stand and balance, his arm wrapped around my waist and we began to walk.
"Hey, Derek, can you take Neely home?"
"Noooo," I protested, leaning against his shoulder.
"Yeah," Derek laughed, taking me from Collin's arms.
"Goodnight, Neely. I'm sure we'll do this again," Collin murmured and kissed my forehead. Grabbing a bottle of something from the table as we walked out,I took a swig and clung to Derek's shirt. The cool night air hit my skin and I wanted to scream out at the top of my lungs. I was no longer happy, but the realization hit me that everything I wanted to be distracted from was coming in my mind. My parents, Colby, Coach styles, everything. Derek sat me in the front seat and I took a large sip from the bottle and it smoothly went down my throat.
"Where am I taking you, Neels?"
"Um, 5730 Morgan Street," I giggled. "God, I'm horny as fuck. Do you have a cigarette?" Rolling down the window and running my hand through my hair, I dug through he glove compartment. I only smoked when I was drunk or stressed. Other than that, I hated it.
"No, I don't have a cigarette," he laughed. "You don't need one."
"What I need is a burger, more drinks and a good fuck. That's what I need," I beamed, leaning my head against his shoulder.
"That's the last thing you need. We're almost there. About ten minutes," he chuckled.
"Thanks for driving me back, I appreciate it." Kissing his cheek, I left my lips there for a few seconds.
"No problem. Why are you drinking so much, anyway?" Digging through the middle console, I found a pack of cigarettes. Taking one from the pack, I dug for a lighter and lit one.
"I'm a fucking mess, that's why." I exhaled the smoke out the window and took another long drag. I hadn't smoked since the accident. I immediately felt more calm as I continued to smoke the cigarette.
"Why do you think you're such a mess?"
"What are you, a fucking therapist now?"
"Just trying to help you out. You seem like you've got a lot going for you."
"That's what everyone says. They believe the bullshit I put in front of them. They don't care to look past my smile or my eyes and see that I'm a catastrophic mess on the inside."
"Why are you such a mess then? You've gotta know why," he countered.
"My parents died five fucking months ago, you'd be a god damn mess too if you lost both your parents," I snapped, my hand shaking as I took another cigarette from the pack.
"It's always the quiet ones," he chuckled.
"What?"
"It's always the quiet ones who hide the most secrets." The car came to a stop and I blew more smoke out the window.
"I'm not quiet. I know people don't care about my problems so I just keep my mouth shut," I replied, opening the door.
"Thanks for the ride," I sighed and stepped out. "And the cigarettes." Closing the door behind me, I tried my best to make it up the driveway and to the front door. Finishing the cigarette and taking a long sip of what I assumed to be tequila or vodka, I banged the end of the bottle on the door.
"Oh, Ha-rry!" I trilled, putting my hand on the knob and opening the door. Slamming it behind me, I saw a light on upstairs. Giggling to myself, I saw him emerge from the room where the light was on and a look of worry was on his face.
"Neely? Are you drunk?" he asked, finally reaching the bottom of the stairs.
"What the fuck do you think?" I laughed, taking another long sip.
Harry's POV:
"What the fuck do you think?" she snapped. She reeked of stale cigarettes and liquor, her eyes bloodshot.
"Neely, what happened?" I asked, knowing this was probably her way of coping with things or lashing out. I'd read her journal entry and knew this was probably more of a lash out. She wasn't one to express her feelings unless it was in writing I had learned.
"None of your business. Go on and live your perfect life. Leave me here to crumble," she laughed almost maniacally.
"Neely." My heart was breaking for the girl standing in front of me. Thank God Louis was out for the night and Gemma, my sister, was watching Bruce. I took a step toward her and she threw up her hands in defense.
"Don't fucking touch me. I don't need your pity," she snapped, pushing me away. She needed someone to care and if it was only me, I'd be there for her. tears began to stream down her face and she took another sip from the bottle of tequila. Taking it from her hand, she looked at me with a death glare.
"Fucking give it back!" she screamed, lunging for my hand and I kept it from her reach.
"Neely, you don't need alcohol or cigarettes," I sighed, pulling the pack from her warm hands.
"You don't know what the fuck I need so take your ass back up those god damn stairs and leave me alone. I want my tequila back!"
"No."
"I hate you!" she screamed, hitting my chest with both of her hands. "I fucking hate you. I fucking hate the person who hit me and my parents, I fucking everything! I'd be better off dead any fucking way, so why don't you just give me the fucking bottle back and let me go on my way."
"Neely, there's more to life than just tragedy," I tried to reason with her. Watching her makeup smudging, I held my ground.
"Don't act like you give a damn about me," she snapped. "I fucking hate you. You're pathetic and I don't need you to pretend that you care." She began hitting my chest and pushing me. I caught her hands and pulled her in for a hug and she began to sob even harder.
"No one cares," she sobbed. "No one fucking cares."
"That's not true, Neely. I care. Louis cares. You've got a lot of people behind you," I murmured, hoping she'd stop crying. She let out a shaky breath, looking up at me, her eyes full of emotions.
"Kiss me," she whispered.
And I did.