“No way, you need more wine!” Sophia laughed, “Vic, Tony, doesn’t she need topping up?!”

“I’m honestly...”

I did try defending myself!

“Nope! Gimme your glass.” Vic slurred, beckoning the wine glass towards him.

It’s been an hour and a half since I joined the neighbours, or Vic, for the night, and me and Sophia had already had gone through two bottles of wine. It was safe to say that I was quite drunk.

“I...” I laughed. “I don’t want wine.” I whined, folding my arms tightly across my chest.

“That’s stupid.” Tony laughed, beginning to pour more wine into my glass.

In the end I gave up with them and took any alcohol handed to me.

I turned around quickly at the sudden noise of the gate behind me. I met eyes with a tall dark haired guy, smiling widely at Sophia beside me. Then a tall figure behind him, the dare I say it, the gorgeously tattooed person I saw earlier in the day.

The annoyed, angry Spanish one.

He didn’t look at me this time; instead he just looked at Tony, and then Vic. His face was emotionless, like stone. I turned around before I looked like a complete twat. I sat there quietly surrounded by two separate conversations; I’m guessing it was Jaime that was talking to Sophia. There was a slam of a bottle on the wooden table. Vic, Tony and the unnamed boy were talking quietly amongst themselves.

I sat there awkwardly, occasionally sipping on the bitter wine. I closed my eyes and rested my head back.

I heard the patio door slid open again and then the surrounding around me quietened.

“Hey, Sinead.” I opened my eyes quickly. “This is Jaime!”

“Hello Jaime.” I smiled. “I’m Sinead.”

“Hi Sinead, do you want something else to drink?” He nodded at my glass of wine and pulled a grossed-out face.

“Um.” I looked at my drink. “I’m fine! Thank you for offering though.”

He chuckled and nodded, he pulled a seat next to Sophia.

I sat there and pretended to text, or look busy while Jaime and Sophia cuddled and talked, and Tony and Vic quarrelled. I needed to sober up. I really needed to sober up.

“Soph, do you know where the bathroom is?” I asked quietly. I just needed a few minutes to sort myself out; I’ve never really taken drinking well.

She slurred the directions and gestured in a dramatic way where and which way I needed to go. I thanked her and quietly made my way into the house, accidently bumping into someone as I walked quickly through the living area.

“Shit!” I cried, watching the floor as alcohol trickled around shattered glass. “I-I’m s-sorry, I should’ve been looking where I was going.” I quickly knelt down and began picking up the large shards of glass that I had broken.

“Don’t touch it.” A soft voice whispered, quietly. He bent down in front of me, the holes in his jeans flashed his kneecaps; I looked up and partially saw his face. He had two lip rings, one stud through the middle of his philtrum, and one ring directly underneath it on his bottom lip. They shone delicately in the moonlight, twinkling as he lifted his head. He stared at me for a while and gave me a weak smile, only just revealing his teeth. He looked back down quickly, back down at the floor. “You’ll cut your hands.” He cooed.
I laughed anxiously and carried on my attempt to help him. He wafted my hands away but I carried on anyway.

“Stop.” He said, gently holding onto my wrist with one hand, his hands were soft. They were hands to hold. Definitely not a guitarist’s hand. “It’s fine.”

I smiled and gave up, not noticing the intoxicating smell that was coming from the floor – whiskey. He let go of my hand, his fingertips gently trailed down my palm, slightly raising my heartbeat, his hand eventually dropped down to his side as we both stood up in unison. His other hand was grasping the broken glass.

“I’m Michael, Mike Fuentes, Vic’s brother.” The tone of his voice was still quiet.

“I... My name’s Sinead Hughes, but, I prefer Sin.” I said, following closely behind him as he strolled to the darker kitchen area.

“Sinead Hughes, that’s what, Irish right?” He asked, before throwing the broken glass into the trashcan.

I nodded, watching him carefully as he dampened a cloth. “Um, yeah, my Dad’s Irish, yours?”

He nodded, and looked down then spoke. "Spanish, well, Mexican, kind of."

He looked at me for a second and flashed a smile. Then after what felt like a heartbeat he was already wiping up the spilt liquor. He knelt down and gently wiped the floor, carefully picking out small shards of glass.

Maybe I shouldn’t have judged him has the angry one. Maybe I just misunderstood him. I was brought out of my thoughts as his tall silhouette came closer to me again; he threw both the damp rag and the handful of shards into the bin and then leant against the kitchen island. I folded my arms around my chest.

There was a shriek of screaming, cheering and splashing that echoed from outside, which scared the living crap out of me. He snapped his head around and glared at the window with a small grin.

We stood in a comfortable silence for a few minutes before Sophia ran in with a soaking wet Jaime chasing after her. I slyly distanced myself away from Mikes body and watched them in awe and amusement as Soph tried escaping Jaime’s hug.

“Here.” Mike said, putting a small glass of – what smelt like whiskey and cola, into my hand.

I sipped a small mouthful; it felt like my stomach had recoiled inside out.

“Seriously, isn’t that like 50/50? The cola’s gone flat.” I smiled; he just shrugged and sipped his drink with another small smile.

---

Ten-glasses-of-Michael-Fuentes’-terrible-whiskey-and-cola’s later; I couldn’t get out of my chair. We were sat opposite each other, and sometimes I accidently caught him staring at me.

I didn’t know if it was his tattoo’s, or his voice, or his shy smile that made me attracted to him but I was, I just knew I couldn’t fall into this trap - I couldn’t fall into those eyes because I knew that this would just be a stupid holiday-romance that you see on in the movies.

I blocked out the music, the conversations and listened to the waves hitting the boulders, of the beach (I’m convinced it’s a cove though).

“Sinead, what do you do?” Tony asked, poking my arm, dragging me from my drunken thoughts. His stupid voice sounded like child’s curious voice, like when they ask their parents something.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Like, for a living?” He asked, laughing at himself slightly. His hair was a mess, stubborn strands of hair were wrapped out his cheeks and his eyes were bloodshot.

“I’m going to university after this vacation!” I cheered quietly. “So I’m basically still living off of my parents.”

“Oh, yeah! Me too.” He laughed.

“But you’re in a band?” I said through giggles.

“Yeah but...” He said and shrugged.

He started talking to me about how he hardly even stays at home anyway, he told me about how this so called band tours the country, tours Europe and Asia. It’s completely insane. I kind of zoned out at this point, mainly when he started talking about the drinking, the parties, and the music.

I knew for definite that this summer was going to be one to remember.

I don’t know if I wanted to be close to these guys, I didn’t know if I should befriend them because I know after these few months, I won’t see them again, and that’d just cause hurt. But this was going to be my last vacation, my last time as a... well, kid, although I’m almost 23. I knew it was selfish, trying to protect my own emotions.

I looked up, and met eyes with him again.

Sometimes you just can’t protect your own emotions, or deny them.