KNEE DEEP
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FOUR

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THE MUSIC IS LOUD, my body moves with the fluidity of it. Mine and Emory's song is long gone and I guess so is she.

My eyes open, looking around at the unfamiliar faces around the club who watch me. That's until they land on a familiar one — brown hair with curls sticking to his sweaty forehead, nursing a drink in the archway. Stood beside someone who he pretends he's listening to, but he's not because instead he's looking at me.

And I know myself well enough that if you're really looking at me, you're not thinking of anything or anyone else.

My smile widens, and I watch as one curves on his lips in response — my arm extending as I hold it out, a clear gesture for him to come over.

He doesn't move, so I bow my head and pout my lips in a way I do when I'm drunk and know he can see from the few metres he is away.

I feel this twist in my stomach as I watch him place down his drink and say something to the person who's attempting to carry his attention — his hand on their shoulder so definitive in ending the one sided conversation.

The feeling the grows isn't bad per se just...different. As he walks over to me, his hand taking the one I've been holding out for him — I pull him into me, chest to chest.

His hands soon on my waist, holding me as close as our anatomy can be. And we dance, skin to skin, his hand dangerously low for how many people are here — how many people possibly know us here.

" come home with me tonight." i hear his voice break through the barrier that the music creates, i open my eyes and register how close he is to me.

An offer he made earlier, outside — but this time I'm looking at him as the white lights only accentuate the blue of his eyes more. As his lips are gently curved at my confusion and indecision. I'm looking at him and I can hear the words ' yes' rampage in my mind.

I can feel my breath catch in my throat and can physically feel the softening of my eyes as I look at him.

Unable to form an actual sentence as I nod my head.

" o-ok." I lean into his ear and whisper back.

PRIVATE SCHOOL PRICKS

emory
um ci pick up your phone!!!
(3:12 am)

emory
ci where have you run off too!!!

lily
probably calling Freddie ngl.

emory
lils! don't put that thought in her head!!

emory
CIARA SIOBHAN MURPHY!!!

emory
PICK UP YOUR FUCKING PHONE AND LET US KNOW YOURE NOT DEAD!!!

lily
fuck full name, she's in trouble

lily
but ci, if you've fucked Freddie I will personally be the one to kill you xxxx

I HAVEN'T BEEN TO PAULS PLACE BEFORE. I didn't get time to look around at how he's decorated the place, instead my legs were each side of his thighs that are spread.

I kept my promise, about sleeping with him on the sofa of his flat. Even now, as the sun shines through the curtains he didn't pull when we got in last night. There's a soft ache on my head, I can feel the tangles where his tight grip with his fingers has left.

And I roll over onto my stomach, looking at the mop of brown hair that sits on the head of the man who lies beside me. His arm around my back, and eyes still closed.

This is new as well, staying the night. I like to think it was because we were drunk, but even before I've booked a Uber back to a hotel or my place in Ireland at five am.

I get out of bed, picking up one of Paul's shirts to cover myself with because in no way am I going to struggle to get my outfit from last night on.

My feet feel like they're stepping on treacherous ground, the further I walked into the flat. My arms crossed as I inspect, no longer under the daze of vodka and shots.

Light floods in from the windows, it creates this added layer of heat which I don't think you need in the summer. I don't know where to go, if I can go anywhere. Like I said, I don't usually stay the night — maybe in a hotel or somewhere that holds no emotional value whatsoever.

That particular thought crosses my mind as my head turns to pictures that lines this small dresser behind the sofa — a couple of our friends, a couple of his family. All of them far too personal for me to have such easy access to.

I don't belong here, family photos should be for future girlfriends and wives — not two friends who sleep with each other because they can't keep actual relationships to save their lives (well for me atleast).

I feel like I should know as little about him as possible, I should know his name (obviously), maybe when his birthday is but after that it should be all closed off.

But our lives are so intertwined, because our friends are friends so I guess that makes us friends as well? Because I know his go-to drink at the pub or what his karaoke song is. I've met his sister at a birthday dinner, I've met his family in the same night I was making out with him in the disabled toilets of the same restaurant.

I tangled myself in a web so much it's suffocating me, when all I wanted was no strings at all.

" didn't take you for the nosey kind Murphy." I hear his voice, and a part of me loves the way he nicknames me by my last name. But the again, another part of me distains that he has nicknames for me at all.

I turn around, looking at him as he stands in the archway between the hallway and the room I'm in — his top half bare and he's wearing shorts.

His eyes look tired and arms are folded as he watches me — as I turn around and shrug " I wouldn't say nosey, just curious."

I walk towards him, noticing how his arms unfold and extend to pinch the material of his shirt that sits baggy on me. How I let him pull me into his chest although I know I shouldn't.

How his lips graze my cheek and I tilt my head so they can reach my neck, how I can hear him chuckle to himself as I do so.

" come on." he says, using our connected bodies to step backwards " let's go back to bed."

And although I should just go home like all the other times before, I know that I should. I just nod my head and follow the man who kisses me back into his bedroom.

ELLIE SPEAKS🪄
ahhhh!! I adore them I can't lie.