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Someone had set the speakers to Tom Petty’s greatest hits about an hour back, and now the sounds of ‘Breakdown’ were ringing in my ears as I made my way through Tim and Pat’s house, slowly into the kitchen, keeping a hand on the wall to guide myself along. Just a safety precaution obviously.

From inside the kitchen the sound of the boys’ screeching sing-along was muffled too, and I filled my cup with a hint of relief. I mean I loved Petty as much as the next guy, but when you got the 8123 guys together their shared adoration became a little overwhelming.

I was debating my vodka to Fanta ratio when the door swung open and in strode John, an easy smile sliding onto his face when he saw me. An empty beer bottle dangled from his fingers and he added it to the growing pile on the counter before swiping another one, biting off the cap instead of using the bottle-opener. He grinned at me.

“How’s my date doing?”

I rolled my eyes and went back to my drink mixing, deciding there definitely wasn’t enough vodka and pouring in some more. John just watched me, smiling slightly.

“Have you spoken to Garrett?” There was a slight slur to his voice, like the alcohol had somehow slicked his vocal chords, and it smoothed out of the Arizonian twang that he somehow possessed more than any of the others.

“No,” I replied. “And I’m not going to.” I’d purposefully kept away from Garrett the whole night, hiding in the corners of the rooms he was in, or moving into the kitchen for another drink every time I caught sight of him – which probably explained my rather drunk state.

John looked at me for a moment and nodded. “’E’s bein’ a tosser anyway.”

I didn’t bother to agree, and just took a sip of my drink. One swallow made me wrinkle my nose – Fanta was a horrible choice of mixer, it hardly masked the vodka at all – and John chuckled.

“Here,” he said, pushing over the bottle of Jack’s sitting at the back of the counter. “Drink this with coke instead. Much better.”

I hesitated. I knew Garrett had bought the whiskey and it was nearly all gone anyway, I didn’t know how he’d feel about me finishing it off. John saw my deliberation and sighed, grabbing my drink and knocking it back, before refilling my glass with whiskey and coke. He thrust it back into my hand with a smirk.

“Bottoms up, Brandy.”

‘John…” I started.

I was well aware that if I wasn’t leaning on the cupboard right then I’d be wobbling on my feet, and I really didn’t think another drink was going to help that situation, especially not whiskey (which always got me plastered.)

John’s face fell. “Just drink with me, Brandy. I’m having a fucking terrible time. I feel better about talking to Hannah, but it feels weird without her now and I dunno, I just feel like getting fucking drunk tonight alright?”

“You’re kinda already drunk,” I pointed out.

“So are you. I can tell because your cheeks are red.” I immediately brought my hands up to cover my burning cheeks, and he laughed, a proper throaty chuckle. “But both of us know we’re not drunk enough to be here right now.”

He took another swig of his beer and I eventually followed suit, downing half of my drink with a wince.

“I spoke to Garrett,” he announced, “I told him he was being a fucking idiot.”

“What’d he say?” I slurred.

“Told me it’s none of my business. I told him he was missing a fucking prize.”

He turned to look at me dead in the eye and the hand holding my drink froze halfway to my mouth.

“Me?”

He nodded and chucked back some more beer. “Yeah, you.”

“You didn’t tell him did you?” I panicked. “Please tell me you didn’t.”

“I didn’t tell him. Should’ve told him though.”

I sighed with relief and relaxed again. “No, you shouldn’t.”

John put slammed down his beer suddenly, looking annoyed. “Why? Why can nobody tell the truth around here?”

I stared at him, unsure of what he was trying to get at. “Uhhh?”

John sometimes got volatile when he was drunk – not exactly dangerous, just loud and angry. He’d be known to punch through a few walls and end up cradling his hand afterwards, while Jared and the guys helped him clear up.

“You! You won’t tell Garrett you like him! Garrett won’t admit to himself that he’s with a girl who is really kind of a bitch! The band! They won’t even let me sing my fucking songs without judging me anymore.”

I pushed myself off the cupboard and tried to place a hand on his shoulder or something, to calm him down, to make him feel better, but he rounded on me.
“Why’re you wasting your time on him?” he asked, looking at me directly, his hazel eyes surprisingly bright for all the alcohol he’d consumed. “He’s clearly not leaving her any time soon!”

I flinched. John had an uncanny way of saying what you were truly thinking. “I don’t really have a choice in how I feel John…”

“But that’s just it! You do! Life is just a series of choices, one after the fucking other! And she didn’t choose me, and I didn’t choose Hannah, and Garrett is not choosing you, Brandy!”

I took a step back from John, his words ripping at my heart even through the slight alcoholic haze in my mind. I tripped on my heels though, and ended stumbling backwards until John shot out an arm and caught me around the middle. His eyes had softened and he looked down at me sadly.

“I’m sorry, didn’t mean that. I just get frustrated sometimes. Why is it so difficult?” he sighed.

I shook my head, trying to answer, but John cut over me again.

“I just want to forget both of them, I swear. You know what Hannah did? She kissed me – right before I walked out her door. Told me she was happy I was finally being truthful to everyone, and then kissed me. And I swear, I can still feel it. And it gets me so angry because I can’t get myself to love her! And I can’t forget her either!”

There was so much pain in his face, the darkness of his eyes, and the sallow defeat in his cheeks. “I wanna forget about Garrett too,” I whispered, moving closer to his chest to give him a hug. My arms wrapped around his middle and we stood there for a couple of seconds, both of us utterly hopeless, fuck-ups at love, before John moved his face down closer to mine.

“He might stay with her, you know.” His breath smelt of whisky and his lips were so close to mine.

“You might never learn to love Hannah,” I answered throatily.

And then we were kissing.

John’s hands moved into my hair and wound strands around his fingers, arching into my body hungrily. I met his efforts halfway, skating my nails up his chest and making him shiver. It wasn’t that either of us liked each other like that, but we were both desperate to feel close to someone, to feel like someone at least found us desirable, to be in control of something in our love lives, I guess. It was for all the wrong reasons, but that didn’t stop John from backing me into the kitchen table, the bottles of liquor rattling as I fell backwards. He growled into my mouth before steadying me and moving his attention to my neck, sweeping my hair back messily. His mouth moved harshly over my skin, full of frustration and pent up emotion, but it still felt fucking good to know I at least wasn’t unable to get this kind of reaction from guys. I moaned his name when he caught the spot on the underside of my jaw, growing unsteady on my feet, but he just gathered me to him and moved back to my lips, sealing one last kiss there before drawing away. We were both panting.

“Shit,” he swore, looking at me with wide eyes. “Shit I’m-“

“No, it’s fine, honestly-“ I interrupted. “It feels good, right? No messy emotions attached, okay?”

I needed this, and I wasn’t going to let John’s flash of morality deny my chance at blowing off some steam. Somehow the alcohol made it seem like an excellent idea, so as soon a John nodded haltingly, I grabbed his shirt and pulled him back down. It was perfect – the way John was kissing me, the feel of his tall frame against mine, the way he had to bend down to my height instead of just dipping his head, the feel of his chapped lips on my own – it didn’t leave any room for thoughts of Garrett. I started pushing him slightly towards the door and he stumbled backwards, before feeling for it behind him awkwardly and flinging it open.

The sound of Tom Petty came flooding back in and John broke away to laugh and get us safely into the hallway. We could still hear the guys wailing along in the sitting room, completely unaware, and it made us both giggle, John biting his lip to keep in his distinctive laugh. I slipped my hand into his and he winked at me, pulling me towards the front door. Before we got there John leant down to kiss me again in the hallway, greedily claiming my lips just for the thrill, as we were right by the door to the room where we both knew Garrett was inside. It was a secret ‘fuck you’ from the both of us, I think.

“Woah, sorry guys, I-“

John and I sprung apart as if dealt an electric shock. Garrett stood frozen, staring at us both. I watched his face harden when he realised who he’d interrupted.

“So when did this start?” he practically spat at us. The hostility in his tone took even me aback. I didn’t let go of John’s hand though, something obstinate and vindictive inside me wanting to somehow shock Garrett, to get some sort of reaction. To make him feel like he was losing me.

I felt John bristle beside me and tried to squeeze his hand to get him to be quiet or something. I decided to use Garrett’s own line back on him.

“It’s none of your business-“ I began.

“So this is why you were all over each other at the bar last week…”

I flushed, about to snap back at him and tell him he’d got it wrong, but John cut over me.

“Dude, I know it’s weird because she’s your best friend, but you need to back off.”

Garrett turned on John. “Shut up O’Callaghan – you’ve just ended it with Hannah, what are you doing with Brandy?”

John squared his shoulders. “Don’t bring Hannah into this…”

“How can I not?” He turned to me, mixture of shock, disgust and worry on his face. “You’re making a mistake. Both of you.”

I refused to look at him, staring at my shoes and the ratty carpet, instead. Was Garrett jealous? Or was he just pissed at John and worried about me?

“I love you, man – you know that, and you can tell me if you think me and Brandy is going to be a problem for you, but right now you’re kind of being an ass to her, so I’m not sure she has to explain herself to you.” John came to my defence.

I felt his thumb swiping over the back of my hand, an obvious attempt to calm me down. I shut my mouth, waiting to see Garrett’s reaction. He glanced between us, floundering for words, before settling to look at me.

“Brandy?” I didn’t expect for him to sound hurt. I didn’t answer, just kept my eyes to the floor. There was a pause. “Brandy what are you doing? Is this what you want?”

“We’re both adults here Garrett, it’s really not your concern,” John replied for me.

I looed up in time to see Garrett staring incredulously at us both, at our intertwined hands, his lip curling with disgust.

“Do what you want guys. I wipe my hands of it.”

For the second time that week, Garrett slammed a door in my face as he turned and left. We both stared after him for a bit, before John tugged me out the front door.

As soon as he had gone my hand dropped from John’s and I let out a sigh, staring at where Garrett had disappeared. What had I just done? What did he think of me? John was looking at me, his brow furrowed.

“Sorry John, I’m not sure I can…”

“No, don’t even worry about it. I’m not sure I can after that, either. I’m sorry he saw us. Kind of, I don’t know. I think I would have felt bad about sleeping with Garrett’s girl afterwards, even if you’re not actually his girl…”

I let out a noise of frustration. “His girl, but not his girl. Yep, that’s me.”

John looked at me sadly and held out his hand, comforting this time, instead of inviting.

“Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

“Can you imagine Garrett’s reaction if we actually slept together?” I tried to laugh, but it came out humourless and John just sighed.

“He looked pretty pissed. I was just trying to see what he’d do if he thought he’d lost you – try and wake him up a bit. I don’t know if it worked, Brandy, I’m sorry.”

“I dunno, I think he just looked disapproving, I’m not sure if it had anything to do with me, really.” I said. “What if I’ve fucked it up even more?”

John stopped walking to sling an arm around my shoulder. “Brandy, Garrett’s the one who already fucked it up. He’s an idiot not to go for you.“ A teasing smile slipped on to his face as he pulled me closer to his side. “If it helps if I hadn’t sobered up and I had actually slept with you, I would have had a fantastic time.”

He smiled at me and I shoved him in the ribs half-heartedly. “Seriously though, you’re a great girl. Forget what I said earlier, I was drunk and I’m definitely more sober now. Don’t give up.”

I was starting to think that I had no other choice, but I squared my shoulders and attempted a smile. “I won’t.”