limerence | afi [DISCONTINUED]

:08

warning: there will be drug use in this chapter. if you're not comfortable with it, you can skip over the part that's written then read onto the next chapter. if you don't care about a little smoking then cool; read that shiiiiiit. just do whatever you're comfortable with.

p.s. don't comment about how your dog's grandpa's fish's cousin's lawyer's doctor's mailman's son's husband's boss's hairdresser's niece had "overdosed and died" from recreational marijuana use. because lmao wtf chill.

you can leave that on someone else's story. i have pretty chill readers, so i'm not too worried about those kinds of comments. so enjoy the chapter.

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CHAPTER 8:

"Thanks for helping me set everything up, boys. You're the real MVPs," I pat all four friends on the backs.

"No problem, K. Anything for a sick party," Calum chuckles as he stores the broom away. I look around my large fourier, living room, kitchen, and dining room. Everything was clean and all the expensive items were locked away in my parents' room.

Michael helped me set up the surround sound speakers so we can blast music. Ashton supplied the alcohol, Luke bought boxes of cheap pizza and snacks, and Calum -- well, he just brought himself. But, he did help clean the house and offer to clean it once again when the party was over.

We all slump onto the couches waiting for people to arrive. It was Friday, a week after my date with Ashton. The whole week at school Michael and I invited a crap load of people and Luke and Calum invited friends from their school. There is going to be a lot of people here later.

We told everyone to come around nine at night which is the time right now. No one ever comes exactly at the said time at parties, they'll probably be here in an hour and a half. This was my first ever party. I've been to a lot of house parties, but I've never thrown one myself. Tonight was going to be lit.

"Tonight is going to be L-I-T lit, friends," I look to the four boys.

"What's that even mean?" Calum asks with a confused face.

"Lit means, like -- I don't know -- fun? Turnt? Off-the-chain? Rad? Narly?" I try to explain the slang.

"Lit," Luke repeats the word trying to get it sketched into his brain.

"Speaking of lit," I divert my gaze over to Michael and smirk.

My best friend returns the smirk, "Pre-game?"

I nod and repeat the same work, "Pre-game."

I quickly run into my room and slide a plastic tote box from under my bed. I drag the box into the living room before I open the door to the balcony slightly. I sit back down on the couch and open the box showing off the treasures I had in it.

"Holy moly," Luke gasped.

"How do you even--," Calum started but never finished.

"That's a lot of--," Ashton started.

"Glass," Michael finished the sentence for his friend and smirked. He reached in and rummaged for his item.

Here's the thing: When I met Michael, I was a young and innocent little flower. I met him during my freshman year which was three years ago. We hit it off instantly in our PE class, since we both complained about physical activity. We found out we lived in the same building and that our parents were friends. Michael and I hung out every single day.