4. I don't run from cops!

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I thought about the perfect thing to say to someone after they'd gone no contact with you for three years. I wracked my brain trying to reconcile the fact that he was here, talking to me. 

Under normal circumstances, I would have stormed off, but I'd already done a fine job of causing irreversible damage to what people thought of me. Talking to Milo couldn't worsen that any. 

So I said something that every girl dreams of saying to their childhood crush, 

"What's your deal?" The fact that I wasn't slurring by that point came at a surprise to me. 

He hunkered down in the seat opposite to me, making it look comically small compared to him before reaching for the bottle, "You're not supposed to be up here." 

I passed the bottle after a moments hesitation, and all he did was cap it, stow it away. Okay then, I thought, I'm being cut off. How drunk was I really?  The lights in the distance were blurring, and something about the remaining light was making him glow. 

So pretty fucking drunk, clearly. 

"I know," I murmured, "but frankly, I could give a rat's ass on what is and isn't acceptable right about now." 

The house reverberated faintly, a testament to how loud the music was. For a moment, I sympathized with Lily, thinking about how annoying it truly must have been to live next to someone like Cole. 

But then I remembered how much I disliked her, not for any particular reason other than being the apparent object of Cole's affections, and wiped any understanding I might have felt a moment earlier from my mind. Her Highness could purchase a pair of soundproof headphones and learn a thing or two about minding her damn business for all I cared. 

"Okay, but you still can't be up here. That railing isn't up to code, and frankly you're drunk. Can you go be angsty somewhere else?" He stood, arms crossed, and seemed to be enjoying this a tad too much. 

I narrowed my eyes at him, peeved at the tone he was using. After barging in on my alone time, he was planning on kicking me out? And after three years of being a stranger, that was how he wanted to have broken the silence?  

"Oh, fuck off," I growled, looking away, "I'll be angsty wherever I want." 

"You're drunk," he pointed. 

"No shit, Sherlock," I rolled my eyes. 

"Do you have a way of getting home?" 

I nodded, "Zara-she's supposed to," but then looked down at my phone. It was a text from Zara that read: 

Sorry Mahi, K was puking so we had to leave early. Lmk how the rest of the party is. see u at school! 

"Never mind," I reconciled. I just knew that Zara was frothing at the mouth for the opportunity to ditch me at this party, and Katie didn't even seem all that drunk last I checked on her. I would deal with them later. 

He stood up suddenly, stretching out his hand, "Alright, I'll drop you home." 

I shook my head, "I'm fine here, thanks." 

"It doesn't seem like it. And from what I saw downstairs, it doesn't even look like you really want to be here either," He replied, arm still outstretched. 

He had a point there. 

"What's the catch? You end up taking me to your home instead of yours?" I sounded bitter, and angry. 

He looked pained, "No, I just want to get you home safe. And frankly have an excuse to leave for a little while too." 

"I'm not going back down there," I waved in the general direction of the party and detached my gaze from him, opting to stare out at the lights again, mesmerized by the way they twinkled. 

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