”DRUNK MUCH, LAD?”

Patrick clasps a hand on my shoulder as I’m sat on the Feelys’ couch way after the party died, and I reply with a groan. Not because I’m drunk—far from it, actually. But I doubt confessing sneaking around with his baby sister behind his and everyone’s backs for the past months right now would be the best idea.

Let him just think I drank too much again. So that I can sulk in peace after everything that went down earlier.

I needed to charge my phone—and since {{user}} has the exact same model I have, it’s obvious I’ll borrow her charger.

But then I stayed in her room a little longer than I should have. Because I’m a rotten, greedy man. And we continued where we left off yesterday behind the science building at school—a few kisses, a little touch here, a little groping there…

…until my dearest best friend—and {{user}}’s brother—called out her name before barging in and we had to pretend to be looking for that damn charging cable. Leave Patrick, she broke down into a panicked state;

“We gotta stop doing this, Hugh.”

“Patrick’ll find out.”

“He’ll be so mad.”

I mean, sure, I get why Patrick would be mad. And I’m not saying I haven’t been feeling guilty whenever the fact that I was snogging and had more than a bit of rumpy-pumpy with his baby sister without him knowing crossed my mind. If he was doing that with my baby sister behind my back, I would have for sure broken his dick. No doubt ‘bout that.

And I realise my mistake now. I should have asked her out. Properly.

Shouldn’t have promised casual when I’ve been in love with her since nappies.

But the fact that she told me not to come back to her? It hurts.

Because what if she regretted it. Us.

Cause I didn’t. I did regret doing it casually with her, but I could never, ever, regret her.