best mistake; closed.

  • maxim adam bemis;

    maxim adam bemis; (100)

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    Sunday morning, and I feel sorry about the pieces of me
    that I left at your house.
    Down on luck, my mind was anxious and;
    you made me face it with your lips on my neck,
    and a taste from the bottle.


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    I’ve got this funny feeling, that you’ve got this funny feeling
    as I watch you dance above me.


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    Wait, you could be my best mistake,
    that I’ve just been dying to make.
    And when the fireworks faded
    I can’t believe I ever contemplated.
    You’ve got me tired and tied up;
    you’re my best mistake.
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    Nydia Halgud & Matt Nicholls played by CoffeeandLightsabers
    Coraline Ellis & Oli Sykes played by maxim adam bemis;
    November 13th, 2015 at 06:06am
  • CoffeeandLightsabers

    CoffeeandLightsabers (100)

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    Matt Nicholls | Spontaneous ✘ Irresponsible ✘ Adventurous

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    The late afternoon light was the thing that woke Matt Nicholls from his rather deep sleep. It had been with a reluctance he whined, shifting onto his side ready to fall asleep when he felt the body of another under his covers. He had gotten completely drunk, drunker than he had in a long time so Matt couldn't recall a name or face; and curiosity caused him to open his eyes as they fell on a tiny raven-haired girl beside him still sleeping. Sitting up, rubbing his eyes Matt tried his best to recall the events of last night. This tour wasn't supposed to be any different. Drink, play, party- repeat. He had stopped taking the harder drugs a couple tours ago, though the occasional joint or bowl was still enjoyed by Matthew Nicholls. The drummer had seen the world times over, but tonight- their last stop being Vegas, he was quite excited. See, the plan was play the early concert, go back to the hotel and rest, then go out to fucking party. And so far the concert had been done as had the resting. Matt had woken last, Oli and Jordan had taken the courtesy to sneak into his room and leap onto him announcing that it was dark and they were hitting the casinos. Which, a small bit of a Matthew was quite worried at this. Oliver had an addictive personality, he knew it, everyone around him knew it, and Matt was a little concerned that gambling might not be the best course of action for the night; but the larger more irresponsible part of him had decided there was no way he could fucking bankrupt himself in a night. It hadn't taken long for Matt to shrug on a relatively clean pair of pants and a shirt, before heading out to hit the ever-bustling city of Las Vegas.

    Their first stop had been the casino that Oli's phone GPS had said was five minutes away via walking, though honestly because of the boy's horsing around and penchant for getting sucked into their heated debate about if Australia or Las Vegas was a better place to vacation, missed the casino and had to double back. The night air was hot and sticky, and the scents of the city, mostly greasy to-go food piss, and sometimes the ever faintest scent of weed, overwhelmed Matt's nose. The night life here was vivacious, crowds of people and new faces; though Matt seemed to be the only one in awe of it. Oliver was continuing to go on about why Australia was so much better, and really couldn't care less about the night life or just... The feel of the city. By the time they got to the casino, Matthew was ready to spin. He and Oli had split up, Oliver heading towards some card game table while Matt preferred as little human interaction as possible. It was fun for about an hour, wining some and losing some- however he rather did like the waitresses that paraded around in small shorts and tight tops, and the jack and coke they served. All was going well, and Matt was beginning to loosen up- rather the booze coursing through his veins was loosening him up. However, all good things must come to an end, and about an hour into his gambling, having been up now by a hundred bucks Matthew was aware of raised voices- one of them being rather familiar.

    "Oi, get your fucking hands off me mate!" Even over the din of hundreds of other people, Matt could hear Oli hollering at someone. Forgetting his game, Matt stood up heading towards the last table he'd seen Oli at. Sure enough there he was, gripped by the collar by a bigger far more muscular man, while a tiny brunette stood a few feet off looking absolutely panicked. "Not my fault your bird wants to fuck me." Oli sneered, which only led to the larger man drawing his hand back to punch the leadsinger square in the jaw. Even Matt winced when the sound of skin colliding on skin could be heard, sending Oliver colliding to the floor. "Hey!" Matt snarled, ready to charge over there when five security guards descended on the scene. Hurrying over, picking Oliver up off the floor, noting the blood flowing from what could possibly be a broken nose the drummer narrowed his eyes at the strange man and his bird. Thankfully no charges were being pressed, but after they'd gotten Oliver an ice pack had asked them to leave, and Oliver had- after spitting blood at the other man and smirking as he was held back. Matt thought it was pure luck the cops hadn't been called, and as they exited the casino, not followed and gutted by the guy Oliver had managed to piss off. After wandering around for another thirty minutes, the lanky brunette had decided he had enough, and grumbled he'd see Matt later before taking off in the direction of the hotel. Matthew just hoped he didn't fucking get into anymore trouble along the way.

    At first he wasn't sure what to do with himself, or where to go- but after a good bit of walking around, he was drawn to one of those bars next to one of those little chapels where people got married. He snickered a bit as he walked by, convinced that he in no way would ever get hitched- before making his way to the club with the neon lighting, a place called Syn. Original. But Matt was bored, it'd been awhile since he'd gotten laid- since his ex Kathryn broke up with him. Apparently she'd been kissing other men and whatnot while he was on tour and decided that there were better things than Matthew Nicholls in the world. He was still pretty raw about it. The club itself had been dark, packed with kids on college break and those seeking entertainment and booze. Matt, already slightly buzzed was quick to push his way through the crowds towards the bar, and after waiting a good fifteen minutes to get the attention of the bartender- ordered a Boston Sour. And after he received his drink, downing it- ordered another and another after that until Matt could feel that state of drunkardness returning to him. And then... His memory just went hazy. Perhaps it was the hangover setting in, or just simply he had to much to drink; but he couldn't remember anything past his fourth Boston Sour. Groaning, rubbing a large, calloused hand against his face Matt was quite startled to feel the cold metal of a ring against his face.

    Curiously he pulled his hand back, and to his utter horror his gaze fell onto a shiny, brand-new gold band. A wedding ring. What. The. Fuck?! "No, nonononono." He thought, and in a hurry to get out of bed nearly fell over himself and onto the floor. Wincing he threw a glance backwards at the slender girl, naked, still soundly asleep. What did he do? Wake her up? Ask if they got married? Jesus fucking Christ the band was never going to let him live this shit down. He was fucked, Matt couldn't even recall this woman's name or what she looked like save for the unruly mop of hair so brown it appeared black. For about ten minutes Matt just stood there, panic gnawing at his stomach when it occurred to him- that he could just get this whole thing annulled. Surely, with any luck it wasn't a psychotic fan, and she'd be reasonable in wanting a divorce. "Am I going to have to give her money? Fuck." Matt thought to himself, biting at his lip. Before he could flee the room or at least contact one of the guys for help, the girl began to stir, and a soft sigh was drawn for her lips- though it quickly turned into a groan as he suspected the hangover set in. Deciding to just stay, Matt waited until she sat up, drawing the sheet over her chest and turned to fix him with a tepid gaze of confusion. Matt didn't think she knew who he was either. True to his eloquent self the drummer just gaped at her throat dry in awkward silence. For what felt like an eternity a petrified silence had stretched between them until he cleared his throat, "Good morning wifey. Sleep well?"
    _______________________________________________________________________________________________

    Nydia Leigh | Faithful ✘ Naive ✘ Hopeless Romantic

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    Looking back, Nydia told herself that it was just dumb luck that she'd met him on her eighteenth birthday- out celebrating her first legal drink at a local bar in Sheffield. She was supposed to be meeting a few of her university friends there, but so far she was the first to arrive. The bar wasn't too far from her small flat, paid for by the small fund she and her parents had set up years prior, and the new job she'd attained by dropping Uni. However short the walk was, the biting winter air made it miserable. Being a particularly nasty February night a small flurry had begun to kick up on Nydia's fifteen minute walk, freezing her to the bone nearly. By the time she approached the little bar the girl was quick fling the door open, all too happy to escape the snow and hoping to warm her bones. It was pretty empty, a couple towards the back, and music quietly drifted out of overhead speakers, and to her surprise Martin Gayes filtered over the old speakers. An older man sat at one end of the bar looking utterly pissed, his snowy, balding head lolling onto the bartop. Finally her gaze landed on a lanky, tattooed male who appeared to be a tad older than her sitting at the other end of the bar staring down at a tall glass of what looked to be a sort of dark lager. She could only see his right-side but... She'd admit he was handsome.

    For a moment she lingered in front of the door, completely unsure of what to do with herself, or where to sit. However she took a deep breath and seated herself at the bartop, in the middle of the elder man and the lanky brunette. The bartender must of been on break, as he was nowhere to be seen and shivering within her oversized parka, Nydia's gaze was drawn once again to the man about five seats away from her left. From what she could see, he looked like the kind of guy her mother would tell her not to get involved with. She was startled out of her thoughts when the girl's phone began ringing in her coat's pocket, and flinching Nydia was quick to pull it out and answer it. "'Dia, where are you? You're not already there are you?" Frowning at her friend Charlotte's voice, staticy and hard to make out she nodded as she spoke. "Yes. Why? Has something come up?" For a moment there was silence before Charlotte spoke again. "Look outside, the snow picked up- got real bad. The roads are terrible. I really don't want to drive in this. Do you want to come to my place? We'll put a film and I can get some wine?" The guilt in her best friend's voice was almost tangible and glancing out the bar's large front window Nydia noted that- she was right.

    The snow was coming steadily down now, and the roads were almost eerily quiet. Sighing heavily Nydia reached back to tuck a lock of brunette tresses behind her ear. "Uh, no. Don't worry about it. We can do it some other time yeah? I'll probably just have a... Um..." Faltering, she tried to figure out what the hell she wanted. Charlotte was a couple years older than Nydia, and usually was the one making the drinks at her apartment when they hung out. "Beer. I'll probably try a beer." Nydia finally finished, feeling her cheeks flush. Her voice was soft, as it always was; though in a place which was nearly empty she was sure that everyone could hear her. "'Dia, I am so sorry! Do you want me to come out? I can try to walk. It'll take me about forty though." Biting her lip she was quick to dissuade 'Lottie from coming. "You'll freeze. It's fine Charlotte. We'll just do something next week. It's not that big of a deal. Look, I gotta go okay. Stay warm. Tell Nolan I said hi." After Charlotte promised she would, the two hung up and after pocketing her phone the brunette wondered if she should just go. Biting at her lip she decided to just have a drink and then go back. A nice, quiet birthday. Or so she thought, little did Nydia know that fate was brewing something far more intriguing than a cliche Sixteen Candles scenario for her. Hearing the door open again, and what must of been the bartender shuffle behind the bar she timidly cleared her throat.

    "Hi, can I... Can I get a margarita? With a sugar rim?" As he shuffled over, the male raised an eyebrow and calmly asked for her ID. After a bit of fumbling with her coat, she fetched her wallet and handed the bartender her ID. He was silent for a moment, though handed it back over with a smile. "Happy birthday miss. It'll be right over." Thanking him quietly she sat there, feeling more than a little out of place. More out of curiosity than anything her gaze slid, almost against her own accord, towards the stranger to her left. However, her gaze was not met by the side of his face; rather he was regarding her quietly and calmly; like he had been here a thousand times and the only thing not seen before- was her. Which very well may be the case. Offering a small smile Nydia was considering greeting him with a quiet hello when a rather large glass of blue margarita was set in front of her. "On the house Miss." The bartender told her quite cheerfully. Once again, thanking him the girl was quick to take a sip; though nearly choked on it. The drink itself was quite sour, and burned her throat- it was a wonder she didn't break out coughing. "Not much of a margarita girl are you?" To the slender brunette's great shock, the male to her left had spoken, his gaze resting on her with a tepid warmth. "Not really sure what I am. I don't drink much. I probably would of figured it out if not for this damned snow." Nydia wasn't quite sure what possessed her to speak in such a bold tone, but she added. "Why, anything you suggest?"
    November 13th, 2015 at 08:56am
  • maxim adam bemis;

    maxim adam bemis; (100)

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    @ CoffeeandLightsabers
    Coraline Eliss
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    The feel of the bed shifting began to draw the brunette from her unconscious state. Who in the
    world was in her hotel room? Going out for a drink was not something Coraline did often; she
    didn't find herself enjoying the taste and she hated the thought of being disoriented, admittedly she
    was a control freak, and the thought of not being able to control her actions left her anxious. She
    made a noise in the back of her throat - a commotion that was caught somewhere between a sigh and a
    groan. How much alcohol had she consumed last night? Try as she might the brunette's mind
    stubbornly refused to string together a memory, almost as if it was set on punishing her the
    girl thought scornfully. With the warmth withdrawn from her bare side Caroline quickly came to the
    conclusion that the bed truly wasn't all that comfortable - letting out a soft sigh she began to stir,
    half tempted to turn onto her other side in hopes of finding new comfort, but as the ungodly hangover
    began to set in, the thought of returning back to her restful slumber was the furthest thing on her
    mind. Drawing the sheet over her chest she sat up much too sharply for her scrambled mind, but before she could stumble out of the hotel bed in search for painkillers her hazel eyes took in her surroundings and landed on the stranger who stood a few feet away from the bed. Months from now the brunette would definitely scold herself, but in the moment she merely gaped at the man - staring up at him like a deer in the headlights. Coraline couldn't piece together much from the night before, but she definitely did not recall following some guy back to his hotel - that wasn't usually in her nature, it was more so her best friend's speed. Speaking of her best friend and the woman Coraline currently held responsible for the uncomfortable situation she found herself in - Where in the hell was Gaby?

    Wifey? That was definitely a strange form of greeting. The twenty-three year old's dark brows furrowed in confusion, "Pardon?" She questioned, thinking that she misunderstood what the guy mumbled - it was definitely the accent, she reassured herself. The longer she sat there the more self conscious Coraline began to grow under the stranger's gaze - she knew she probably looked an absolute state. Her raked a hand through the rats nest that took claim of dark locks hoping to tame them, but almost immediately gave up. It was a wasted effort, the girl thought bitterly as she massaged her pounding temples only to flinch at the unfamiliar feeling of cool metal against her warm skin. Her heart hammered in her chest cavity as she withdrew her hand with a quickness she never knew she possessed and she swore she could have fainted when her eyes landed on the silver band that glared up at her from her willowy ring finger. Her eyes darted from the ring and back to the male in an almost accusing fashion - this had to be some barbaric hoax on her best friend's behalf; in fact she was sure Gaby would come bustling in any second cackling her curly-haired head off. If the situation wasn't already uncomfortable for the brunette, this definitely made it quite worse for her. "Could you possibly pass me my shirt?" She needed clothes, food, and a nice heavy dose of painkillers before she came to terms with her marriage. Goodness, she would not live this down. Gaby, and all of their friends back in Florida, would find a hoot out of this.

    If the circumstances weren't so painfully awkward Caroline would have laughed at the irony - her roommate, Jeremy, had made countless jokes about something like happening to one of the girls before the friends left for Vegas. "Somebody always leaves married in Vegas," He teased and now Coraline wished she paid attention to his silly words. Once she was handed her clothes from the night before she wasted no time in redressing herself - thankful that she was now wearing more than a thin sheet. "Do you...remember anything from last night?" The brunette questioned unsurely - hoping he at least remembered more than her. She could recall her blonde friend teasing her about being sober, she remembered that god-awful bar named Syn or something unoriginal like that, she could even remember trying to keep up with her friend who easily threw back shot after shot - but try as she might she could not but the stranger's handsome face to a name.

    The familiar feeling of nausea itched the back of the girl's throat and for the second time that afternoon she felt like she was going to be sick. Getting herself hitched to a stranger while completely hammered was not on her bucket list - in fact it was probably the furthest thing on her mind! What would her estranged mother say? Breathe, breathe, breathe the silent mantra did little to calm her nerves as she stared into the male's unfamiliar brown eyes from her spot on the bed. She wanted to ask if the two of them were actually married - but the last she wanted to do was come off as an idiot, of course they were. How mortifying, desperately she wished that she could have been the first to wake up, at least then she would have time to think and put herself in control of the situation.

    "This is definitely not a big deal, right?" She asked, pushing her pesky fringe out of her eyes. She was looking for reassurance from the male, hoping he would say something that could calm her nerves. All they had to do was get everything settled - this was Vegas, this happened all the time! Caroline was fairly certain that everything would be done and other with within the hour - Gaby, or anyone else for that matter, would never have to know!
    Oliver Sykes
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    Oliver Sykes was not an alcoholic, or that's what he repeated to himself. The alcohol was just an appreciated escape - it was something that kept the dark thoughts at bay. The brunette usually preferred having a drink at his flat with a mate because he preferred the privacy, but his friends were busy, or they were trying to stay sober as a New Year's Resolution - admittedly the singer picked at the thought of giving up alcohol, but couldn't bring himself to do so especially with the shit storm he was going through with Hannah. Why should he? It wasn't as if he was a danger to anyone around him and he still took care of his responsibilities with the band and his clothing line, though admittedly he needed prodding here and there from a band mate or his younger brother. He wasn't all too surprised that the bar was nearly vacant that night - the weather outside was down right nasty. It was melodramatic to admit but the brunette didn't mind the frigid air around him, he felt as if it matched the state he was in - icy and bitter. He didn't know why he tried anymore with the opposite sex, or with anyone for that matter. He felt inadequate, he felt used - these were feelings the twenty-eight year old was used to at this point in his life, but they still burned none the less. Fuck, he was lonely. It was pathetic - it was juvenile, even - but fuck he was tired of the hollow feeling inside of him. He thought that Hannah had been the answer to his loneliness, fuck he had fallen so hard for the model only to have it all thrown back in his face - the love of his life was just like the rest of the women he had encountered in his life. When the entrance door was flung open he couldn't muster up the energy to glance upward, he simply didn't care enough. It was either another old bat, or some lonely old sod. Briefly he felt sympathetic for the man behind the bar - the poor lad looked like he was dying to close up and get home.

    His chin was settled on the top of his hand as he stared down at the glass in front of him - the first of many, he thought with a bitter chuckle. The lad wished he could feel satisfied in his life. He could have any girl he wanted, he had fans who were dying to get into bed with him, but the life style wasn't appealing to him anymore. He was nearly thirty for chrissakes! To be completely honest, despite what many people probably thought of the singer, sleeping around was never something Oliver fancied. The brunette was known to have an addictive personality and woman were no different for the singer - once he opened himself up to somebody he had a hard time shaking them from his mind. It was the main reason he was always left hurt and picking up the pieces - he felt hard and fucking fast; half the time he felt like a damn girl. The ringing of a phone broke his train of thought and he couldn't help but glance over with mild curiosity.

    He was briefly surprised at his discovery - she was definitely a new face, probably the assumed bloke who strolled in not too long ago. Was she even old enough to buy a drink? As he watched the girl to his left he couldn't help but quirk a dark brow in faint amusement - she looked so out of place in the dim lit bar - like a work of art strung up in a dingy alley, he scolded himself at the thought. Jesus, he needed another drink. Despite her beauty his interest wavered and he was once more wallowing in the depths of self pity. The last thing he needed to do was creep on some girl who was half his age - God, that would be horrific press for him and the band. He could already see the blog posts slandering his name now - Oliver Sykes the drunken pedophile, how charming. Despite trying to ignore the girl's presence he couldn't help but grin as he listened in on her hushed conversation - he was right when he assumed she wasn't a bar kind of girl, she seemed absolutely clueless; it was kind of cute.

    Hannah was never much of a drinker but whenever Oli convinced her to have a drink or two she always ordered a margarita, the memory of the brunette made the brunette frown for what like the thousandth time that night. Why did she plague his mind? He wished he could move on just as easily as she had - but here he sat mourning her absence. It was pathetic, he was pathetic. He debated on leaving the bar realizing that it was doing him more harm than good, but his attention was caught once more by the exchange between the girl and the bartender. She was spending what was probably her eighteenth birthday on her own at a dull bar surrounded by nothing but strangers. Where were her friends? He assumed that they must have been the ones on the phone but he didn't have much time to muse over his thoughts, because his eyes soon met a pair of startling blue orbs. Jesus - he hadn't meant to be caught openly staring at the girl.

    He twisted his lips to the side not entirely sure how to go about this - he could look away, or engage in conversation. He was grateful that the girl didn't seem to recognize him, he loathed dealing with crazed fans. " "Not much of a margarita girl are you?" His amusement got the better of him and his mouth was moving before his brain could really comprehend what was happening - fuck, this was the last thing he needed tonight. It was too late, however, because before he knew it her soft voice was directed at him. He crinkled his nose in thought - he wasn't sure the girl would fancy anything he drank. "I usually like to keep it a bit simply," As if to further his point he gestured towards his Lager - he honestly drank whatever got the job done, he wasn't too picky. "If you're trying to get smashed I recommend some Vodka with a good chaser." Which was probably what he planned on ordering next from the bartender who had once more disappeared. He finished off the rest of the class that had been sitting in front of him for some time before focusing his attention on the girl, "It's your birthday, yeah?" He questioned, tapping his foot against the carpeted floor - he hoped it wouldn't seem as if he had been listening to the exchange between her and the bartender. "Happy birthday - next drinks on me, yeah?"
    November 13th, 2015 at 01:09pm
  • CoffeeandLightsabers

    CoffeeandLightsabers (100)

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    Matt Nicholls | Spontaneous ✘ Irresponsible ✘ Adventurous

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    Matt was furious, mostly with himself but also at drinking so much- alone. Had Oliver not been acting like a right twat then the singer wouldn't have gone back to the hotel that night. If Matt had been a little smarter and not drunken so much; than everything would be fine. Instead he was standing in the middle of his hotel room freaking out because well, from all appearances it would seem that Matt go married. However, his anger subsided somewhat when the girl furrowed her brows together at his greeting, "Pardon?" Her voice was soft, hoarse with overuse and shifting awkwardly Matthew just motioned to her left hand. Specifically her ring finger where a simple silver band adorned it; and really? He didn't get his Vegas wife something nicer? Drunk Matt must of been stingy Matt. As the woman's gaze was slowly dragged towards her hand. When her dark mocha colored orbs landed on the wedding band the look of utter horror was evident and Matt heaved out a sigh of relief he hadn't realized he'd been holding. At least he was the only one who didn't want to be married to a fucking stranger because he was blacked out drunk. "I swear I'll never drink that much again." Matt promised himself quiet as she took a moment to comprehend the situation.

    To Matt's begrudged admiration she didn't cry or scream or yell; she didn't start talking about alimony or some shit- no this girl just asked for her shirt. "Right. Uh- let's see." The room was admittedly kind of a mess. So it took a moment to find her shirt, discarded all the way by the door. Had they fucked? Matt decided that whether or not they had sex wasn't the priority right now- getting this sham of a marriage dissolved was. Fuck. His mother was going to kill him. Literally string him up by the ears and beat some sense into him. "Here." To Matthew's credit he too sounded composed as he had walked over, picking her shirt up and handing it to her his face was a blank mask, hiding his inner turmoil. For awhile she was quiet as the woman shrugged into her shirt, trying to tame the mess her hair had become over the night. "Do you...remember anything from last night?" Matt had expected this question and honestly he shook his head. "I mean I remember my night before I got to that club- the one with the cheesy name. But, quite honestly I don't even remember your name. I'm sorry." The male admitted in a soft, and uncharacteristically abashed voice. "This is definitely not a big deal, right?" For a moment he considered telling her that, yes it was a huge fucking deal- they got married. But the vulnerability in her eyes made him bite his tongue.

    "Look, don't worry. It was a mistake, and I'll call my band's lawyer to see if she knows what to do about... Well any of this." Matt assured, really dreading that talk. First he'd need to tell the guys. "Right, well no reason we can't be civil to each other for now. I'm Matthew Nicholls, I'm a drummer in a band and I'm here touring. That's my basics, how about you tell me yours on the way to breakfast? I'm supposed... Uh, I can skip that." Matthew murmured more to himself than anything. He had wanted to grab breakfast with Oliver, see how he was holding up. Man hadn't been the same since Hannah left; though Matt was sure he could of seen it coming miles away. Listening to her soft answer the man drew his hands together. "Sorry first you'll probably be wanting some painkiller. Hold on." Turning on his heel the man hurried to the bathroom, a little eager to escape the room for a second to collect his thoughts. What was he going to tell everyone? "Hey guys, great night last night- I got married! And now I'm getting divorced. Right laugh yeah?" Groaning under his breath Matt let himself into the bathroom where he'd been keeping his Motrin; shutting the door behind him. Once he had a bit of privacy Matt allowed the almost hysteric-panic he was feeling take over; shortening his breath and clenching his gut.

    Fuck. Rubbing his face, forcing himself to take deep breaths Matthew leaned down, turning the sink on and splashing cold water on his face to calm down. Once he was breathing normally Matt turned the water off, dried his face, and grabbed the bottle of Motrin from the counter before heading back to the woman in his bed. "Here, I usually take five, but you're a little smaller than me so maybe like... Four." He muttered, handing her the bottle. Waiting until she'd doled herself the appropriate amount Matt tentatively sat down on the edge of the bed. "So, I was thinking that it'd be best if we went down to whatever court you go to and get this things absolved. It's nothing against you- but we were both far too drunk to make such a big decision and no offense but I didn't exactly picture myself marrying a stranger. So if you're good with everything, I'll call my lawyer. See what she advises and we'll take it from there. In the meantime feel free to order whatever you want for breakfast- and if you decide to go anywhere leave your number please so I can get in contact with you. I'm gonna pop in the shower real quick but I'll be out in fifteen. At the most." Matt promised, trying to make sure he sounded the the fucking posterchild for calm and collected. "And, I'm sorry I married you drunk." He added, his voice a little lighter than before with humor.

    _______________________________________________________________________________________________

    Nydia Leigh | Faithful ✘ Naive ✘ Hopeless Romantic

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    As he spoke, the girl chanced another sip of the drink she'd already ordered and again her nose wrinkled at the taste. She had the occasional beer- enough to know that she wasn't the biggest fan of the hoppy drink. "If you're trying to get smashed I recommend some Vodka with a good chaser." She already knew that she was a fan of Vodka and sprite, and would of settled for that if she wasn't afraid of passing out in some alley on her way home and freezing to death. But... But one couldn't hurt she figured. "Maybe not smashed, I'm walking back to my flat. But, I think some Vodka and sprite is what I'll have." Nydia murmured, more to herself than anything. Figuring it'd be rude to not finish her previous drink before ordering her next one, she decided to simply chug the remainder of her drink. It wasn't too terrible and once she finished, setting it aside Nydia was about to call over the bartender when to her shock, and much to her pleasure the male beside her spoke up again. "It's your birthday, yeah?" There was a note of curiosity to that voice, as smooth and smoky as a finely aged whiskey.

    "Yeah, didn't turn out to be much of a celebration though. Oh well, can't control the weather." Nydia sighed, more to herself than anything. She didn't want to be bummed out on her birthday, it wasn't like Charlotte had ditched her to hang with her boyfriend, Nolan. "Happy birthday - next drinks on me, yeah?" For a moment she paused, an impish smile touching on her pastel pink lips. "That'd be ace. I'm Nydia, by the way." Maybe it was the liquor which was beginning to hit the small girl, her head beginning to feel light while her tongue loose. "Oliver." The tattooed brunette replied, and his voice surly and utterly thrilling to Nydia. "Oli... I like it." Testing his name out, the girl quite decided that she did enjoy the way it sounded off her tongue. Turning back towards the bartender she leaned forward, gaining his attention. "Vodka and Sprite?" He nodded, setting to work. While her drink was being made, she turned back to Oliver interest and her slight intoxication getting the better of her. "So, whatcha doing here on your own? Not to pry or anything, just... Bad day or something?"The last thing the small brunette wanted to appear was nosy, especially after the male was nice enough to get her a drink since her margarita had been an utter bust in terms of enjoyment.

    The smoky bar seemed to have been winding down to a lull, well more than it had before, the man at the other end of the bar seemed to have passed out- the couple had left a few minutes ago and really that left her and Oliver. And what was that piano man quote? Loneliness is a drink best shared? Something along those lines. Outside the snow was still falling steadily, and the thought of going back out in it made the girl shiver in the parka she still hadn't taken off. As her drink was set down, she mumbled a thank you to the bartender again, before taking a small sip. This was much better, less sour and acidic. It didn't burn as much going down and she didn't feel like such a baby drinking it. Her friends had always joked that Nydia had a shockingly low tolerance for booze- it went straight to her head. The more the night wore on, and the more she chattered with Oliver, things such as What do you do for a living, which he'd been somewhat skittish about though mumbled that he was in a small band. Figuring he was embarrassed about that she had waved her hand, announcing that she worked in retail dealing with probably the shittiest people on the planet- stereotypical soccer moms.That had gotten a grin out of him and by the time Nydia had ordered herself another Vodka and sprite, the two were sitting next to one another. There was an innate comfort to this- at least for Nydia that she wasn't drinking alone. That seemed a little too sad for her big night out.The woes of being born in the winter.

    But, while things hadn't gone as planned, the blue-eyed woman was enjoying herself. He was kind, a little quieter than she was which was fine- he was a good listener. While most of her friends would of told her to stop being such a talkative drunk, he just nodded along chipping in every now and then to things he could relate to. Once or twice their hands brushed together and the girl would admit that she got butterflies. The little brunette lost track of time, and drinks, right up until the bartender warned them he was closing in thirty. With a reluctance she nodded, and the thought of going back to her quiet, empty flat struck her as something she really didn't want to do. Nydia wasn't a fool- she noticed the subtle, appreciative glances that he'd shot her throughout the evening, and normally the meek and mild mannered girl would of never acted on it- but tonight was different. She was celebrating adulthood and what better way than to go back to her flat with the handsome bloke who was trying to drink the sorrows of his ex away? "So, after this drink I'm gonna walk back to my flat. It's a fifteen minute walk- you wanna tag along?" The offer was breathed with a sort of thrill that sounded about as drunk as she did. There was something about this beautiful hollowness to him, that made Nydia curious. To want to, just for a little while help fill that emptiness that she suspected both of them shared; and of course the vodka gave her tongue the push to offer. Surely she hadn't been imagining the way Oliver had been eyeing her, and fuck it- she found something about him magnetic. At the very least, she'd probably slip him her number if he declined going back to her flat.
    November 13th, 2015 at 04:07pm
  • alchemist228

    alchemist228 (100)

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    Italy
    I really enjoy reading this novel because when I reading it I remember a fantastic read about love, soul, nature, and humans. I like reading texts from no names and underdogs because they usually have a very practical and real visions of the real world. unbelievable!
    June 9th, 2020 at 08:10pm