Love You Like a Sister:
Intoxicated:
Michelle PoV
"Chelle, you ready?" Liam yells from the hallway. I throw some items into a bag and hang it over my shoulder. He raises his eyebrows at me when I emerge from my bedroom.
"What?" I snap. I didn't like it when people judged me, without telling me their observations.
"Nothing, you just look grown up that's all." He shrugs. "Not like my little sister anymore."
"Yeah well she's been and gone." I sigh, checking my reflection in the mirror. Call me vain, but I did think I looked pretty hot tonight; I was wearing a tight red dress that showed plenty of my cleavage and my eyes were lined with smouldering black eye liner.
"Come on then." Liam grabs my hand. "Else mom and dad will come back and start interrogating you about where you're going."
"Where are you going?" Paul asks from behind us.
"Davie Tuttle's fourteenth." I tell him, flicking my black hair over my shoulder.
"House party." Liam adds. "You coming?"
"Davie Tuttle?" Paul scoffs. "That kid in the year below you Chelle? No thanks."
"Suit yourself." Liam shrugs, opening the door and stepping outside.
"Enjoy playing pass the parcel and musical statues." He shouts after us and Liam slams the door.
"It's gonna be shit isn't it?" I ask my favourite of my two brothers.
"It's a party, with alcohol." He reminds me. "What's shit about that?"
"OI!" A familiar voice yells out once we were outside the building and Liam groans at the realisation of who it was. We turn to see Carla running towards us, her white dress flapping in the wind. White. How ironic. Loose dark curls fall over her shoulders, being blown back in the breeze.
"That's our reputation ruined." Liam mutters before she reaches us. "To what do we owe this pleasure?" He greets her, sarcastically.
"You get the pleasure of walking me to the party Leebugs." She grins.
"You were invited?" He pulls a face, despite the fact that she is looking absolutely stunning. In fact, I was rather annoyed that she was coming with us, purely for the fact that she was yet again upstaging me. Plus hanging around with Carla Donovan all night was, as Liam had mentioned, not going to give us the best reputation.
"No." She shakes her head. "Who needs invites ay?"
"I'm not smuggling you in again." He rolls his eyes.
"It's Davie Tuttle." Carla sighs, stepping between us and pulling us into a stride. "It's hardly a strip club."
"It will be with you there." Liam grumbles and she slaps him lightly over the head.
"You got the vodi?" She asks him and he shoots her a look.
"Oh great so we're sharing that now are we?" He glares at her and I walk awkwardly next to them.
"Paul not joining us?" She pesters, as if afraid of a silence between us.
"Twenty questions with you today isn't it?" I finally chime in.
"Oh good I was wondering when you were gonna pipe up." She grins at me, flicking her hair back off her shoulders.
"No, he's not coming." Liam crushes her hope with a great deal of satisfaction. "Says it's gonna be shit."
"How can it be shit with me there?" She giggles and he rolls his eyes again at me.
When we arrive at Davie's house, the place was already buzzing. It wasn't difficult to get in, people had clearly had pre-drinks and so weren't too bothered about who was invited. Liam soon deserted us as soon as we arrive and goes off to find his mates, so I am left with Carla, who clasps my hand in hers and drags me towards the kitchen.
This was a time when I especially did not want to hold hands with her, because I was actually going to attempt to pull tonight... And fail at it all the same. I was concerned people stayed away from me because they do think I'm in a relationship with her, or maybe it's just me...
Carla gets straight to pouring shots as soon as we enter the kitchen, from someone else's bottle which doesn't seem to bother her. I knew I was going to end up getting splattered so there was no point in trying to stop Carla from shoving the shots down my neck. As much as I loved her and I did love her, I was desperate to get out and socialise with other people, so I was relieved when she is dragged off by some sleazy adolescent who is waving a spliff in her face.
I pour myself a glass of the pear wine which I had brought with me, feeling awkwardly out of place by drinking such an elegant drink. I peer around me, leaning up against the cooker, instantly regretting letting Carla go because now I really was alone.
I take one look down the corridor at a ton of people I didn't know, or didn't care to speak to. Instead, I slip outside, the cool air hitting me hard. There were very few people out here and it was a refreshing change. My eyes fixate on Rob, who is leaning up against the wall smoking a fag. I approach him cautiously, trying to judge what state he was in before I made any sort of conversation.
"Hey." I greet him and he looks up suddenly, trying to hide the look of excitement that fills his face. "Can I have some of that?"
He takes another drag before passing me the cigarette and I inhale it slowly, releasing a cloud of smoke into the night air.
"Didn't know you were coming." He tells me as I pass it back to him.
"Could say the same to you." I smile. "And your sister."
"She wasn't even invited." He shakes his head. I could tell he had already drank quite a bit because he was slurring his words slightly.
"Billy no mates tonight are we?" I take another drag of his cigarette.
"Well surprisingly very few of my mates wanted to come to Davie Tuttle's party." He raises his eyebrows at me.
"Oh so you do have mates then?" I grin and he shoots me a look. He doesn't move his gaze from mine for a while and I am forced to look away to prevent an awkward silence. We're both laughing then though and I think that's what gives him the sudden confidence to lean in and kiss me.
I drop the fag on the floor before our lips touch and I sigh, placing my hand on the back of his head. This was not what I had in mind by 'pulling' but I would give Rob the satisfaction all the same. He had wanted this for ages anyway.
After about a minute I pull away and he is looking at me, bemused and shocked that I had actually returned the kiss.
"Ok..." He grins, wiping his mouth slowly and I shove him backwards lightly.
"Hope you enjoyed that Robert." I tell him, before awkwardly coughing and winking at him as I turn my back and walk away. I could feel his eyes on the back of my head. Maybe that was a stupid move because I could virtually feel his longing growing stronger. But it had given me the boost to continue the party and I step inside, guilt and excitement on my mind.
I work my way through the crowds of people, searching the faces of students that I could talk to without lowering my popularity status.
"Oh sorry!" I apologise as I bump into someone walking relatively fast and carrying a can of beer. I focus my eyes and they rest on Dean's, who smiles at me, warmly.
"Sorry... Oh hi Chelle." He greets, and hesitates before beckoning me to follow him. He leads me into the lounge, which is a bit quieter and we find a spare sofa to sit down on.
"I didn't know you'd be here." I start up a conversation, trying to act as casual as possible. It was true, I wasn't expecting someone like Dean to be slumming it at a fourteen year olds birthday party. But then again, it was a party and therefore everyone on the estate would have heard about it.
"Ditto." He replies and then cringes. "...I never say that."
"It's fine." I laugh, glad of the company. "I just thought you know... Davie Tuttle... He's a bit of a pathetic loser..." I try to come up with the best insult ever and fail.
"He's my cousin." Dean responds, with a serious expression and I suddenly feel my heart stop beating in my chest. Shit. Oh shit. I'm going red. Help.
"I... um..." I stutter, apologetically and then his face breaks into a smile.
"I'm kidding Chelle." He punches me lightly in the arm. "I agree, I'm just here for the party and free booze."
A wave of relief washes over me and I suddenly feel incredibly angry at him. I hated it when people did that, Carla did it all the time and it made me feel completely gullible.
"Don't do that!" I try and yell at him but he's laughing now and so my face creases into a smile. "Seriously, that's not funny!"
"A little bit." He grins and I slap him lightly. Never in a million years did I think I'd be sitting alone at a party with Dean. This was insane. However I was pretty sure my confidence had been boosted by the four shots I'd crammed down my neck before bumping into him. We're both lost for conversation then and we sit in a comfortable silence whilst he sips his drink. He offers me a can but I shake my head. "I heard Carla's fight went well."
"Which one?" I smirk even though I knew he was implying the one that had been initiated the night we were in the pub. "But yeah it did, as ever... Just to boost her ego a bit more."
"Yeah well I wouldn't want to be on the wrong side of her." Dean shrugs.
"I don't even know how I am on the right side of her." I gaze off into the distance. "...Something just clicked I guess. But I don't know, it's not like I have anything that special that she must be drawn to."
"I could argue with that." He replies quickly and I turn my head back to look at him before he gives a slight cough, tipping his can up to shield his face for a few seconds. I can't help but smile... Was he flirting with me? "Anyway..." He covers, flicking the metal pull on the can a few times. "She's a tough one her. She'll be ok."
"Mmm." I just mumble, knowing that was all just front. She was strong and she was tough, but under all that she was just a lost little girl. Confused as hell about how life had lead to here. But I don't tell him this, that's for only us to know. It was our secret.
"When are you next going to be going down the quarry?" He changes the subject swiftly.
"I was there the other day actually." I inform him, but didn't tell him when or where. "...Why hoping I'd be up for round two ay?" I wink, giggling.
"Well I was hoping I wouldn't have to wait that long for round two Chelle..." He whispers and that stops my giggling. I freeze, locking my eyes with his to see if he was joking. He pauses, checking whether I had registered what he was implying and then moves in, hand pressed against my cheek. His kiss is so gentle, so soft, so genuine. I've never felt anything like it. I've never felt anyone appreciate me as much as he is now. My tongue builds up a steady rhythm against his as it begins to get more intense. I have never known what real passion feels like; it feels as if a thousand fireworks are exploding on my tongue. As if a million butterflies have been set free in my stomach. It feels like fire. Heated but refreshing. Our breathing has become ragged so he pulls away. I stare at him intently for a few seconds, trying to catch my breath and steady my racing heart before he reaches for my hand and pulls me up. My head is spinning. I'm beyond bewildered. I can make out the shapes of people who are pointing at us in disbelief. Shocked? Amused? Maybe they were just confused. But either way, Dean was pulling me gently up the stairs and for some reason I followed him. Against my mother's advice. Against everything I had ever been taught. He pulled me into the bedroom and closed the door behind us.
He asked if I was scared. I was. I was terrified. But when he had told me he would be gentle, I was lost. Lost in him. Lost in a maze of inquisition, fear and excitement. I was one with him.
Carla PoV
How am I yet again lying flat out on a damp, musty carpet, pissed off my head? Just your typical Saturday night for me. I knew I was drunk because I was lying here singing 'Wheels On The Bus' with some year nine kid who had been eyeing me up all evening. In fact, that's probably why most people had exited the room.
I lift the bottle of whatever the fuck it was to my mouth again, taking a deep glug and not bothering to wince at the bitter taste. I loved being wasted. The surge of excitement you get when you know you can do anything. The sudden confidence boost that allows you to say anything to anyone. The fact that you live in the moment because the past; even what happened five minutes ago, feels like it never happened. It feels like a dream. I feel invincible. I feel free.
"Get up." Liam suddenly orders and I see his face appear miles above mine, towering over me.
"Scuse me." I slur, rolling around on the floor and sloshing the liquid in my bottle everywhere. "I will not follow orders Leebugs."
"Have you seen Michelle?" He asks, panic in his voice. "I've looked everywhere."
"Well unless she has turned into a carpet then no." I drone, kissing the carpet as I do so. "Hello Mr Carpet."
"Stop being so childish." He huffs, holding out a hand to help me up. "I'm getting a cab now, find Michelle."
"I'm not ready to go yet." I groan, as I stand up, my head spinning, everything blurry. I cling onto Liam for dear life and he reluctantly catches me before I fall into the floor. "You tell that taxi driver, to turn around and go home... Because I..."
I forget the end of my sentence and droop down over Liam's shoulder as he holds me up. I felt shattered but alive at the same time.
"Bloody 'ell Carla, how much have you had?" He holds me at arms length, hands under my pits to support my weight.
"Do I really need to answer that?" I grin at him, observing every inch of his face as I did so. He looked concerned as well as annoyed and it overjoyed me that I could make him feel that way. His eyes were beautiful, a deep blue under the dim lights from the ceiling. My eyes fall to his lips which are only slightly parted, both to convey a look of curiosity and irritation. He notices me staring. He doesn't move.
However I do. Stupidly. Being the idiot that I am. I move in, pressing my lips against his.
But he pulls away.
After letting out a gentle sigh he retracts, before we've properly connected. It was barley a kiss. It was barely even contact. It was over so fast and I hated it.
"No, Carla." His voice is a lot softer now, almost patronising, as if he had undertaken the role of being my carer. I am not used to being knocked back. I am suddenly angry, both at myself and him for humiliating me. Despite the fact that I don't think anyone saw, we both knew and that made my blood boil. Sanity seeps back into my bones and I stare at him weakly before shoving him back aggressively.
Liam was strong, he didn't fall to the floor, he was just pushed up against the arm chair which he grabs onto for dear life. I clench my fists, so angry that yet another person had turned me away; made me feel so pathetic, so vulnerable.
"Carla." He sees the hatred in my eyes, which was something he did understand. He'd had to put up with me after all these years on the estate and he could tell when I was in breakdown mode. "No one saw."
His words freeze me. He knows exactly why I'm so angry. He feels it too. He feels what we can't admit; something that we will never, ever admit. He had to stop it for both of our sakes and he knew how much that hurt me. No one saw.
I have two options. I can run at him, beat him to pieces; release all my anger and feelings and emotions.
Or I could run away from him.
I take the second option and I'm out of the door without looking back. Except I'm not running away from him, because he's running after me. Yelling my name over and over as it echoes through the streets. The rain pelts down onto me but I don't care. I'm running.
The only problem with Liam is that he was in the cross-country team for four years.
His footsteps get louder, his breathing gets louder. I see his shadow in the reflection of a street light and before I know it his arms have been thrown around me and I am screaming, fighting him off. Tearing, biting, yelling like a wild animal.
But he doesn't let go. Unlike most people in my life he will not let go of me. He clings to me protectively until I eventually give in and sink down onto the glistening pavement, the damp of the tarmac seeping through my dress. I felt helpless and weak and empty and naked. I push him off me as I lie on my front, crying my eyes out, hammering the pavement with my fists. I can hear his soothing voice next to me, telling me it was ok. It made me even more angry.
"SHUT UP LIAM." I yell with all my might, sitting up to face him, makeup streaming down my face, my hair in wet, straggly tendrils. I was hoping maybe my appearance would make him run a mile but it didn't. He just sits there, not moving an inch.
He wasn't allowed to do that. Only Michelle was allowed to sit and watch me cry. Not Liam. Never Liam. I hated him. I had always hated him and I always would. I hated everything about him. I hated his witty comments and his gentle tone of voice, with the slight lisp. I hated the way his dark hair flopped over his forehead. I hated his serious blue eyes, the colour of the night sky. I hated the warmth of his skin. The strength of his arms. The shaven stubble that was ever so slightly visible around his jaw line. I hated the way he looked at me. I hated the way he talked to me. I hated the way he held me.
But at the same time. I loved it all.