A U T U M N
I lost track of how many ales I've drunk. I suddenly felt like my old sixteen years old self, the one who liked to party and got drunk. The girl who didn't give a fuck about anything and stayed up all night long outside partying because no one gave a fuck about her at home anyway.
If it wasn't because of Phraser telling me to stop drinking, I probably wouldn't until I passed out.
"Give me one more glass. Just one more. Please..." I gave him a pleading look.
He leaned forward, closing the gap between us. With eyes locked on mine and his face inches away from me, he whispered, "No."
Phraser paid the bills then stood beside my chair and held out his arm. "Come on." I jumped off the stool and nearly fell flat on the ground. His strong arms were quick enough to hold me and kept me steady. "Be careful."
