Reckless Fearless Careless | ✓

7-It's Not A Wall, It's A Person

Chapter 7: It's Not A Wall, It's A Person

I get up but as soon as I do a wave of nausea hits me, forcing me to run to the nearest available bathroom to throw up for the first time tonight. I wash my mouth out thoroughly and exit the bathroom that is currently covered in urine, alcohol and vomit — the latter being caused by myself. Since the air is quite stuffy inside, I begin to make my way outside to cool down and to hopefully not throw up again.

I step outside, the cold air nipping at my exposed skin. I already feel better, fresh air really helps. I feel a shiver run down my spine but I pay it no heed as I continue to walk down the patio, tripping now and then due to the amount of alcohol I've consumed, until I walk into a hard wall. Ouch. Since when does Jordan have a random wall in the middle of his garden anyway? Who does that? Is an artistic statement or something?

Suddenly, the wall moves, huh? Strong arms wrap around my waist, steadying me. So it's not a wall, it's a person.

Duh Ari, you really are stupid when you're drunk. Shut up. Even when I'm intoxicated my conscience still manages to make jabs at me. What has my world come to?

I slowly lift my head upwards only to be met with the most gorgeous electric blue eyes I've ever seen in my entire life. They are so vivid and intense yet for some reason, I find comfort in just staring at them. They're like deep ocean pools that I could just get lost in for hours on end. There is something else though, they seemed to be hiding something like there's a storm waiting to destroy the calm waters. I ignore the thought and begin to study the person's face.

That's when I recognise him. This is none other than Wyatt King, the bad boy — for lack of a better term — at my high school. Oh hell no.

I can't get involved with this boy, he only leads to trouble. He's supposedly extremely dangerous and always getting into trouble, not someone I should be around, even in my drunken state I know that. From what I've heard he's also a fuck boy, I don't want him to take advantage of me, I've no idea if he'd do something like that but it's best not to chance it. I need to get away from him as soon as possible.

I immediately jump away from his touch and take a big step back. He seems a little shocked by my sudden movement — most likely expecting me to thank him — but is quick to cover it with a blank expression.

I'm about to walk away but my big mouth decides that I have to make some sort of comment. I blame it on the alcohol because let's be real, if I wasn't intoxicated there's not a chance in hell that I would even dare to open my mouth and speak to someone I don't know, especially someone like Wyatt King. "Watch where you're going," I hiss at him.

His blank look quickly morphs into one of confusion followed closely by irritation. "Me? You're the one who walked into me!"

"What? No, I didn't," I lie. Now I'm lying just to prove a point, god I've no clue what I'm doing anymore.

"Yes you did," he counters, anger rising in his voice. Is it just me or is his voice sexy even when he's angry?

What? I did not just think that. The alcohol must really be affecting me. Stupid alcohol. Stupid subconscious.

I throw my hands up in exasperation. "Whatever. Just look where you're going from now on," I snap at him rather harshly and try to walk off.

'Try' being the keyword. Me being the drunk idiot I stumble during my sassy exit, ruining the whole effect. I look more like a stupid, drunk, lonely teenage girl than anything else — it's true that that's what I am but it sounds kind of pathetic when you put it that way. Stupid alcohol.