The Middle - Volume Three ✔️

Chapter 65

Jamie

So, yeah. I'm drunk.

And I'm chatting away to Scott as if I've known him my entire life, not less than a day. He's great. He's attractive, he's funny, he's sweet. He's fucking awesome.

And he's a drummer. With black hair, tattoos and piercings. He reminds me of him. Too much. But the bad thing is, I kinda like that. And the more I'm drinking, the more I'm able to sort of warp his Scottish accent into an American accent in my mind. I can pretend the ring through his eyebrow is actually through his bottom lip. I can pretend he plays in a band called The Middle, not a band called The Dire Bends (seriously?). I can pretend Scott isn't Scott. I can pretend I'm talking to the one boy I really wanna be talking to tonight. And it's nice. It's kinda comforting.

It's almost 3 o clock in the morning, we moved on from the bar to some club that Lori and her friends like. Scott and his friends didn't seem too keen on this place, but they came. And okay, okay, I know I'm leading him on. But I can't help it. He talked about his drumming, and we had a natural connection after that. I told him I play guitar, and he even looked up The Middle on Spotify and got his boss to play us through the speakers when we were in BrewDog. I loved that. A lot of people came up to me after that, very interested in my music. It was totally cool. And naturally, Scott had a lot of questions about the drummer. So (after many gins and a few beers) I told him a little about Patrick.

Well, I thought it was a little. Turns out it was a lot. I'm dancing to some horrendous pop song (Calvin Harris I think) in this club with Scott. His hands are on my waist and he's smiling down at me. But I think he knows. I've talked about Patrick so much. He must know. It must be obvious, right?

"Dude, I'm in love with Patrick!" I blurt out of no where over the music. Damn you, gin.

The shitty dance song carries on playing (How deep is your love? Oooh aaaah! Oooh aaaah!) and Scott doesn't miss a beat. He twirls me around and whispers "I know." into my ear, before smiling at me kindly.

"It's so obvious, isn't it?" I ask him, sighing in defeat. I don't wanna dance anymore. I move over to the side of the dancefloor and he follows me.

"It's not that obvious. But we have talked a lot tonight, and most things you tell me go back to him."

I sigh again and pout at Scott's words. How will I ever get over Patrick!? How!?

"And your face does that every time you say his name." Scott adds with a kind laugh. "Listen, Jamie. I don't bullshit. I talked to you in the bar earlier because I liked what I saw and you seem cool. But I don't want to step on anyone's toes..."

"Me and Patrick aren't a couple, never have been." I add in quickly.

"Oh?" His eyebrows go up in interest. "Well, maybe you'd like some help then?"

"I don't need your help with anything, dude. Unless it's getting over my best friend." I sigh again.

"That's exactly the kind of help I'm offering." He says in his slow, Scottish tongue. It's sexy. I like it. He pulls me towards him where he's standing with his back up against the wall. It's dark and smoky in here. We could make out, no one would even notice. He brings his lips down to meet mine while pulling my body into him.

And I push against his chest lightly. I don't want to do this. And that's the bottom line.

"I'm sorry, Scott. I can't." I whisper, as he awkwardly tries to laugh off my rejection.

"Don't worry about it." He shrugs his shoulders like it's no big deal. "But tell me something, aye?"

"Aye?" Oops, that just came out. I really am drunk.