Who Knew: A Liam Payne Fan Fiction

Chapter Ten

            Long after the moon has risen in the sky, I slowly detach myself from the bleachers and aimlessly walk through the neighborhood. I do not try to understand where I’m going, my brain has long shut out any kind of thought process. Getting lost isn’t a concern, I’ve been carving my own paths along these streets ever since I learned how to ride a bike. Not far into my journey, a voice rings through the night air.

            “Adieeeeeeeeeeee, is that you?” I don’t have to turn to know whom the words belong to. Smirking, I pivot around to see a petite silhouette moseying along the sidewalk.

            “Hey Amelia.”

            Amelia Rutherford is the closest thing I had to a best friend in high school. Even my mother approved of our friendship. But that is because to any sensible set of parents, Amelia Rutherford is the golden child. And on paper, she is. 4.0 student and our class valedictorian, she earned a spot in the honor’s program at LSU with an athletic scholarship to boot. However to any classmate, Amelia is far from innocent. She is the girl that can get hammered the night before a big exam, wake up with no hangover to speak of, and ace the test. Nobody has yet to figure it out, but she jokes that it’s because her mother drank so much when she was pregnant with her, alcohol just runs in her veins. But she could never confirm that, because she’s lived most of her life without her parents. They both died in a car accident when she was two, and since then she’s been raised by the hands of her grandparents. What amazes me most about the girl I’ve learned to call my friend is that she has never once resented me for my disloyalty to my parents.

            Picking up her already unstable pace, she skips and trips to my spot, landing her arms around my neck and nuzzling her face into my sleeve. The smell of Jack Daniels penetrates my senses, nearly giving me a buzz off of the strong alcohol. I roll my eyes, steadying her on her own two feet. Looking around, I attempt to find the source of her current state. The houses around us seem fairly quiet, but I vaguely remember passing by a rowdy crowd in my angry getaway. With so many students back on break, I’m not surprised at how inebriated she is.

            “Come on Amelia, let me take you home.” I was used to this routine, going out with Amelia, looking after her to make sure she didn’t go home with someone she’d regret in the morning, and then tuck her in bed once dragging her home. As I reach for her hand, she bats it away, instead slinging her arm through mine, trying to lead me up the hill and away from her house.

            “Oh Addie, I’m not drunk. Tipsy, yes, but not drunk. Besides I haven’t seen you in ages! I’ve missed you.” I give her a steady look in the eyes before continuing our trek, not responding at first. I suppose this is better than losing her to another party. We walk for a while without talking, me focusing on keeping her vertical and Amelia doing her best to act sober for me. We reach the pier, one of the few still on the boardwalk. The sea-washed planks are dotted with a few couples enjoying the evening as well as the occasional group of teenagers. The strong smell of salt wafts along the warm breeze, and the sand is free from pesky seagulls. I shouldn’t be surprised we have ended here, Amelia always chose this spot when she wanted quiet time. We settle on one of the benches that faces the ocean.

            “So, how’re Mr. and Mrs. Frost?”  I feel myself go rigid, heat rising up from my fingers and along my arms. Amelia notices as the blush swirls onto my cheeks.

            “That bad then?” I nod, rehashing our latest argument with probably more viciousness than necessary. As I repeat my parting line, I watch my friend’s face change from passive to disbelief. Letting out a low whistle between her teeth, she replies, “Harsh.” I assume she’s speaking of my mother until I notice how her critical gaze has landed on me.