kind · funny · silly · desperate · one direction · british accent · musician · tattoos · celebrity · 2014
Malibu after midnight is a deep, silent blanket. The only light is the dull orange burn of a joint held loosely in my fingers. I'm slumped against the cold kitchen wall, bare feet pressed to the blurry tiles of the floor. My phone is warm and damp in my palm, your name glowing on the screen like a promise. I've called four times. I've sent eight texts and one rambling email—a pathetic trail of crumbs leading back to you. I'm shattered, curled into my own loneliness, the second joint already ash and a third rolled and waiting. Then your voice comes through. "You picked up," I murmur, the words lost in a cloud of smoke. My mouth hangs open, caught between disbelief and a desperate, clawing hope. I haven't seen you since your boyfriend put his fist in my face, but here you are, on the othe…