2brown-eyes rocks!


No song so…

Ice Ice Baby—Vanilla Ice

I toss one of my father's old tees over my head before hurrying down the stairs. I should tell him to go home to his girlfriend and come back to see me when he's sober, but I won't.

Pausing to take a deep breath, I pull open the door.

He's there on the porch, using the column to keep himself standing. His eyes are red and glassy, and I can smell the vodka from here.

I look past him to the driveway and then the curb. "Thank god you didn't drive."

"Alice dropped me off," he says, pushing off the rail. "She agrees with me."

"Where's Bree?" I ask.

Knowing Alice, she's still at the beach.

He winces, pushing past me to get inside. "Don't talk about her."

I huff, turning to watch as he sways his way to the sofa. "Does she know you're here?"

"No." He flops down, laying his head back and closing his eyes. "Alice said she'd take care of it."

"Please tell me you're not serious." I'm slightly panicking. There's no telling what kind of scheme my best friend has cooked up.

"Relax," he says, tossing a hand in the air without even opening his eyes. "She wants what's best for us."

"Edward," I say, settling on the arm of the couch. "As long as there's a Bree, there will never be an us."

He lifts his head then, swiveling my way. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" His words are slurring, but there's also a bite. "For me to break up with her so I can be lonely and miserable while you flaunt your new boyfriend in my face." He stands, but he stumbles back to the seat. "You can forget it."

"He's not my boyfriend." I don't look at him when I say it because giving him that when he still has her feels wrong. "We had a great time, he's a great guy…" I trail off, shrugging. "But he isn't and was never meant to be my guy."

"Not what it looked like to me," he mumbles, his voice as weary as his body seems. "It makes me sick to watch him touch you."

My heart hammers at his confession, and even though his words are scornful, they're everything I want to hear. Except not like this, not now, not when he's so drunk he can barely stand.

"Don't you get that?" He lolls his head to the side, and I meet his bleary red eyes. "Or is it not the same for you? Have you really moved on and forgotten me, B?"

"Oh, Edward," I say, moving to his side. I don't want to do the wrong thing right now, so I very carefully lift my hand and brush his bangs off his forehead. "I could never forget you."

Tears burn my eyes, but I blink them back. This conversation can't happen right now. He's too wasted to make much sense, and I don't have the strength to go through it twice. It has to matter when it does finally take place.

He nestles into my touch. "I miss you, B."

"I miss you, too," I say so quietly it might as well be a whisper. "Let me get you a blanket and pillow."

He doesn't respond, only huffing at the loss of my touch when I stand. I go to the hall closet and grab a wool throw and pillow before returning to the sofa where he hasn't moved an inch. I wonder if he's still awake as I lay the pillow on the arm and return to him.

I touch his shoulder. "Edward, I need you to lie down, please."

He mumbles something, but thankfully, goes along with my prodding. His eyes pop open as soon as his head hits the pillow and he searches for me, almost panicked. But as soon as he spots me, he settles in. I sigh and lift his legs to the sofa before tossing the throw over him.

I plop to the floor beside his head, unwilling to leave him here alone. I doze on and off through the night, startling myself awake almost every time I get good and asleep. One time, I even wake to his fingers trailing through my hair.

I don't know if it's a habit or if he's aware.

But I don't stop it.

I simply smile to myself and close my eyes again.


See ya tmr :)