78 days
Avoiding Alice was harder than I'd expected. She'd go in for a hug, and I'd have to unwrap her arms from around my neck. She'd try to sit on my lap, and I'd have to get up and sit at the other end of the room. Ashton was like a hawk; if I was within two feet of Alice, he was watching my every move, making sure I was keeping up my end of the bargain.
We were sat around at Michael's, our usual hang out while a bottle of his parent's expensive dessert wine was being passed around. The light conversation flowed like waves in the sea, but Alice's gaze wouldn't leave me. She was sat between Calum and Michael, I was next to the blond asshole, and Ashton had gone downstairs to retrieve a bottle opener for the next bottle of wine.
I dared to take a peek at Alice to see if she was still staring. Taking the last swig of wine, she holds the intense eye contact. After swallowing the sweet juice, she throws the empty bottle into the center of the half circle, turns to Michael, gripping his face between her small hands, brings his face to hers in a drunken kiss.
My eyes widen in shock, as do Michael's, but rather than pull away, he pulls her into his lap. Their make out becomes sloppy very quickly. I turn away to find Calum, jaw practically on the floor. We telepathically share confused thoughts as he shakes his head, regretting it; the yellowed bruises surely sore.
They don't part mouths for sometime, but when they do, Alice stands up taking Michael's hand, helping him steady himself. She playfully kisses him, giggling the giggle she's giggled to me a hundred times. He chuckles, nodding his head toward the door. She looks over her shoulder, her hair falling down her back in a frizzy, blonde waterfall. He gaze catches mine, and she winks at me, blows me a kiss, then she's out the door towing behind Michael.
Calum and I exchange glances, and he just shrugs. Maybe Ashton was right, maybe Alice is just a whore.
My blood begins to boil at the images of the two of them in Michael's parent's room. She's probably crawling on top of him, whispering in his ear with her soft voice and minty breath. Her blonde hair tickling over his bare chest... It should be me.
Ashton comes in, holding up a bottle holder triumphantly. He stops, gazes around the room, noting Alice and Michael's absence. "Where'd they go?" He asks, staring at me.
I stand and shove him out of the way of the door way so I can leave. "Ask your slut sister." I spit, seething in a boiling bath of jealousy.
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