HURT

My name is Roseanne Martinez,but most people refer to me as Rose or Rosie. I was in love. Actually I still am. He never loved me back though. He was just another popstar,that likes to crush hearts. I should have seen through his perfect reputation. No one ever threw him hate. Even if he broke their hearts,they just pretended it was their fault. I don’t think I can do that. No,I won’t, I cannot! I will make a mess of his facade,I will make a mockery of him! He will not win this game. He picked the wrong player to knock down,now he WILL pay the price. I just wonder how long he will try to stay on top. I will be on top in the end. Or will I? Read on and find out!
A/N: This is sucky,sorry. I personally think the story is actually better. Please read it,it would mean a lot to me!

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20. Lightweight and Beyond

   After our, well more of Harry's since I stayed in the car instead of going to see Niall, excursion I drove us to the pub over on Saints' street. The pub was called You're Drunk, Go Home. Accurate name, right? So, we walk in and Harry makes a clear beeline for the bar. Normally, I stay utterly sober, so I could be the designated driver. 

   "Rose, drink. We will get a cab home." Harry slurs, only one beer in  and already inebriated.

  Knowing better than to sink into peer pressure or endanger us I highly consider faking it for his benefit, but with the way my life is at the moment and how I really do wish to block some of my overwhelming emotions, I agree.

   Chugging down drinks like he is dying Harry stumbles about, ignoring all people, even though it actually isn't late enough for many people to be here. When we arrived it was about three P.M. and now glancing at the shaking clock on the wall it seems to be quarter past four. The happy hour rush will start soon, but I am already getting wasted.

   By the time the happy hour rush lets in me and Harry are too drunk to even see straight; this being the drunkest I ever have been. Honestly, I was always far too worried about how I may behave to actually get drunk, let alone piss drunk. Clearly, though, this was is not going to end well. 

  I am carparked and it is obvious Harry is as well, because he is flirting with a post over in the corner and I am wondering why the guy only a foot away is staring at me, and why his cigarette looks so tantalizingly good. I have never once smoked in my life, but maybe tonight I would start?

  The world is now spinning and everything seems hilarious, even though everyone is slurring and my throat is burning. I kind of want to go home, getting more tired, but the drinks keep pouring and I have lost Harry somewhere amid the gyrating crowd of shirtless woman and topless men and whatever else is swarming around my swaying figure.

 

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