"Come on, have another shot. I swear it won't kill you," I say, taking another drag on my cigarette. "That's the last one, I promise."

"Styles! I told you not to smoke in my kitchen!" Liam yells from across the kitchen.

"Yeez, Liam, relax. It's just a little cigarette." I toss the cigarette into a glass someone had left on the counter and watch it go out. Then I look back at you. "You're going to be a really bad friend if you don't take that last shot with me."

It's always a surprise to everyone when we tell them we're best friends. We're the fucking definition of polar opposites. You're the saintly one, well-behaved, with good grades, who always listens to Mom and Dad. And I'm the bastard who smokes and drinks every chance he gets, who fights with everyone who gets in his way, who does a little cocaine at parties, and who your parents hate their guts. If you don’t care, i don’t care.

I always knew you were the one, the one who was going to get me out of here someday, the one I was going to fall madly in love with. And even though we've kissed a few times, while we were drunk and didn't know what we were doing... maybe I have, you've never given me any indication that anything was going to happen between us.

But when has anything ever stopped me?