ripped jeans | hes

thirteen

votes and comments really help me out so please show me some love if you'd like :))

i really hope you enjoy chapter thirteen and are looking forward to chapter fourteen! thanks babes i have some great ideas for this series!! -GIGI

zuzwang (noun) - a situation where every possible move or decision is a bad one, or one that will result in damage or loss

"Who's Josh?" Aria asked Niall.

Aria and I both turned around to face Niall, who was happily sitting in the counter. I was still stressed out and extremely confused about the situation, but I decided to just bond with Niall instead.

Although, Niall currently seemed too tipsy to bond.

"Josh Devine is our drummer. Great kid, good kid." The alcohol was making Niall's accent was becoming so rapid and so thick.

It was becoming almost impossible to fathom what Niall was saying. But whatever Niall was saying in that foreign accent of his, it was dead sexy.

"You have a drummer?" I eyed him. "You guys must be legit,"

"Pretty legit." Niall aimlessly repeated. "Want shots?"

"Yes!" Aria clapped her hands in excitement.

I tightly puckered my lips and looked back into the living room, as if Harry would just miraculously appear from the drunken crowd.

Once I realized Harry wasn't coming back, I turned my attention back to Niall. Even if Harry wasn't here, I was going to have a damn good time.

I bit the corner of my bottom lip and nodded, agreeing to a round. I didn't know if it was the best idea, especially with my classes tomorrow, but...why the fuck not?

One round can't hurt, right?

"I'll get them." I offered. "Where are they?"

"Great, you're a great girl. Vodka's on the counter and there's plastic shot glasses in the cabinet." Niall told me, his accent sloppy.

"Right." I nodded, leaving Aria and Niall alone for an important mission to find alcohol.

I tightly curled my fingers around the neck of vodka hidden behind a jug of juice. I walked over and opened a white cabinet, searching for the plastic shot glasses Niall said to get.

"Ahem."

I peered over to see a girl with a bad dye job staring directly at me. I jumped back slightly at her sudden presence, my heart skipping a quick beat.

She was only a few feet from where I was standing, and she seemed to be highly interested in what I was doing.

Her intimate stare startled me. She wouldn't look away, even when I looked her right back in the eyes.

I grabbed three plastic shot glasses from the cabinet and faced the girl, who's darkly stained lips curled into a condescending smirk.

"Can I help you?" I scoffed.

"Yes, actually, you can." her voice sounded like sweet poison, seemingly kind but laced with danger.

I clutched neck of the vodka bottle tighter. I've never seen this girl in my life, for she definitely wasn't a student at UCLA. 

"How can I help you, princess?"

She took a step towards me. Not in a threatening way, but more in a 'let-me-tell-you-a-secret' kind of way. I sized her up, trying to interoperate what this girl's intentions were.