I was used to being alone.
I was always the girl surrounded by people, yet still utterly alone.
It was comforting. I had grown immune to the feeling of being by myself.
But then, I met him.
And despite the voices in my head screaming at me to not l...
I called Emma this week and asked if she wanted to go out together, just the two of us this weekend. She responded by saying there was a party being hosted by one of her model friends in the Hidden Hills tonight.
So here we are, four shots of tequila in and we haven't even left my apartment yet.
"Lex, we need to take a picture before we leave," Emma calls out to me from the living room which she had turned into her own personal dance floor.
I nod from on top of the kitchen island that I'm sitting on, "yeah we should probably leave soon, or else I'm going to crawl into bed and never make it out." I hop down from the countertop, landing with a slight wobble due to the drunken rush that's raced into my head. I look over at her as I grab my leather jacket and slip it over my shoulders, "what are you looking at Bear?" Her gaze is captured upon the rows of pictures I have hung up on the main wall.
"Can I ask a question?" She speaks with a slight slur, not bothering to turn her head to look at me as I walk up beside her.
"Go ahead," I respond back, following her gaze and looking amongst the pictures.
"Why isn't Harry up there yet?" She turns her head this time, her eyes pouring into the side of my head.
A soft sigh falls from my lips, "I'm just waiting a little longer." My eyes fall to my feet as I turn to walk over to the mirror in my hallway, lifting my arm I motion to Emma who's staring after me, "well come on, let's take this picture and leave. The uber is almost here!"
She blinks twice before walking over to me with a sway in her steps, we pose for the picture that Emma deems is good enough for her to post before I force one more shot down my throat, and shove Emma out of the door.
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The uber ride goes by in a blur as Emma talked the entire time, asking the driver numerous questions about his life.
I know Emma's drunk because she tried to get his number even after he had said he was happily married with children, thank God he was at least nice about the obnoxious drunk girl in his car. I could only imagine what would happen if this night started off on a bad note.
This night is important to me. Not in an "I care about the people here" way but in an "I need to get shit-faced with my best friend" way.
We've managed our way out of the uber and up the stairs to the mansion of a house, holding onto each other. Our giggles fill the air as each time we look at each other something unknown sparks more laughter.
I've spent a lot of time recently feeling guilty for the way I've been treating Emma. It's why tonight is actually important.
Ever since our argument in the kitchen that one night before dinner, something's just been off. We had planned for an entire trip of festivities in Paris and after the first night, I had barely seen her.
