Chapter 2 : The Only Good Shots Are Those On Keepers
| ||Rating: Mature||Chapter Reviews: 13|
Background: Font color:
“Michelle!” my brother yelled from the door with an obviously annoyed tone since I’d taken forever to actually get ready since my bath. But he should know better, because I mean, I am a girl and us females know that it takes a while to get ready for an event, even if it just a small dinner. I knew that we weren’t going to go out somewhere fancy since that wasn’t my brother’s style. I was ninety nine percent sure that we were going to a bar.
“I’m coming!” I called back as I quickly put in the other hoop earring in my left ear. I took one last look in the floor length mirror across from me. My pre-ripped jeans hugged my legs and hung low on my waist as my white t-shirt grazed the waistband of my jeans as I turned around. I had left my blonde hair down and my make-up was natural, although Mike would probably yell at me for overdoing the eyeliner like I always did. My blue eyes sparkled in satisfaction. I felt good for once. I was playing the sport I loved and had always loved; I wasn’t kicked off the team for my sickness, I was on it for my skill. It would be the first time in a year that I was going to be on a Quidditch team that people actually followed.
“Michelle Lyn Dunbar!”
“I’m walking towards the door Mike,” I said as I grabbed my black zip up jacket and met him at the door. He was wearing his normal jeans and a Puddlemire United jersey that he insisted on getting even if I wasn’t on the team. He rolled his eyes as I approached obviously annoyed at the time that I had taken.
“You look absolutely wonderful but why must you take so long?”
“Oh come on, you should be used to this by now Mike, I’ve been living with you for months now! Do you honestly think that I take more time then those tarts you bring home each night?” I raised an eyebrow and wiggled it, a smirk upon my face.
“Touché little sister,” he grinned, punching my playfully on the shoulder, “But would it be wrong to say they get some while you don’t?”
“Mike!” I then proceeded to slap him on the shoulder, intending for him to feel immense pain. It was true however. I never was into hook ups or relationships with guys since they mostly saw me as the Quidditch Nazi of the school or a tomboy. Sure, I had crushes but I never really acted on them and I never had the skill to actually pick up a guy. That said, I hadn’t had any luck with the blind dates that Mike put me on either.
“Ouch! I was just saying the truth. Honesty is the best policy you know,” he said with a playful nod and another grin as he opened the door and we both exited the apartment and into the hall.
“When where you ever honest? You lied to the teachers about your wild parties at Mills all the time. And not to mention your employer doesn’t know about your fake credentials,” I retorted, crossing my arms over my chest, as I trailed after him down the stairs.
“Why do you have to be so damn smart all the time?” he said, rolling his eyes as he met me at the bottom of the stairs. “Why can’t you just let go and stop being so uptight?”
“Come on Thinker, we’ve got a pub to go to, where I plan to do just that,” I said leading him into the quaint street that our apartment was on. “Tonight we’re going to party. I should celebrate this; it’s my dream we’re talking about! Now come on, where are we going?”
“Diagon Alley,” he said matter of factly, a small smirk placing itself on his lips as he stopped walking and I kept going. I turned around, looking at him since I expected we would go to the bar up the street since that was where he normally went.
“And that would be where?”
“It’s a huge wizarding place. You’ll see. Now hold my hand and we’ll apparate there together.”
Oh great, a wizarding place.
“I’m a big girl Mike,” I said, coming back over to him, holding my arms and rubbing them slightly since my black jacket was quite sheer.
“Yeah, whatever,” he said with a silly grin and then grabbed my hand before I could protest. With a pop, we were gone. I never really liked apparating since I was used to a broom and apparition made my insides squirm and the rest of me feeling sore from being ripped apart. Yet, when I opened my eyes, before me was a pub chalk full of wizards and witches, just looking for a good time. There was a bar where all the stools were taken by inebriated magical folk and then booths around the wall, decorated in a true sports fashion; there were posters, pictures and scenes of sports players and their games everywhere and the rest of it was dark brown with dark wood paneling to match. What a typical place for Mike to be seen. I was surprised I hadn’t been brought here before.
“Take care of her William, I’m picking up the bill tonight,” my brother whispered to the waiter next to him, hoping I wouldn’t notice. The man nodded before heading over to the bar where there seemed to be fight just about to happen. I turned around, hearing a glass smash and I winced, seeing a man with beer all over his head. Someone must have smashed their mug over his head; it was soon cleaned up by the barmaid, who gave them a stern look.
“So what was that?” I said crossing my arms across of my chest, looking at Mike who was chuckling at the men at the bar. I’d only seen him whispering to the waiter, and from the looks of it, I didn’t like his thinking at all.
“Nothing,” he said and then gestured to an empty booth right next to him. “Sit.” I sat on one end of the booth and he slid into the other side, relaxing completely as he did. I knew that I should be doing the same, but I still felt tense at what Mike had planned for me tonight. He was quite the partyer when he was back at school and over here in Europe, he was even more so. By the end of the night, I knew he would embarrass himself, I would embarrass myself or worse, both.
“So you come here a lot?” I said as I crossed my arms over my chest and looked around at all the other people who were here. There were mostly guys, who came by and gave Mike a high five when they saw him. Apparently he came here more often then he went to the bar down the street from our apartment building.
“You could say I’m a regular,” he said taking a sip of water and a bite of bread, which had already been placed on the table when I was looking around. Seemed that they knew he was coming. I grabbed a piece for myself, being very hungry from the tryout and from the fact that I was always hungry.
“For my lady,” the waiter who Mike had been conversing with before said with a wink as he placed a small shot of fire whiskey in front of me. He then left to go serve another table, pretending to ignore my shocked looks.
“Here’s to you,” Mike said raising his own shot glass, which I hadn’t even seen being placed in front of him.
“Mike, I didn’t even order this,” I said looking at the shot in front of me as if it were an alien object. I now knew his plan. His idea of relaxing was getting drunk and then throwing up in the alley way afterwards; I should have known better. Yet, it wasn’t the first time that I had seen a shot before. Back at Mills, I just couldn’t afford to drink and do something stupid since I was the captain. I would get kicked off instantly. It didn’t help that I would have a hang over at practice the next day. During my time in England with my brother, I had started off with a beer every now and then at the apartment, but I had never done shots before in a public setting like this.
“It’s not going to bite you,” Mike said laughing as if he was already drunk. Merlin, this was going to be a long night.
“I’m eighteen Mike,” I said, implying that I was under the drinking age.
“We aren’t in the States anymore. This is England and the drinking age is eighteen. That and William likes you, I can tell. He’s the bloke that gave you the shot. He won’t tell anyone anything that happens here tonight. Just try it, lil sis.”
“I think I’ll have a beer,” I said, pushing the shot away from me towards Mike, signaling that he could have it. But before my hand could shoot up to get William’s attention, my brother pushed the shot towards me and spoke.
“Oh come on Michelle, you’re not the one to back down from a challenge are you?”
He was right. Competition ran in my blood twenty four seven. Even in the most mundane tasks, I still had to be the best. And to make matters even worse, he downed his own shot, smirking at me. “Looks like I’m winning.”
“Give me that,” I said, snatching up the shot glass and pouring the contents into my mouth. I regretted it instantly; the liquid made my throat burn and as I swallowed it, the corners of my eyes started to water. Worse, the taste wouldn’t get out of my mouth and I felt like I was going to throw up. I reached out for Mike’s water glass and downed a huge gulp of it, hoping it would help. Mike, all the while, was laughing his head off.
“You’ll get used to burning sensation,” he said, his eyes twinkling as he held his hand up. An attractive waitress with a low shirt and boobs that would have gotten her work at any Hooters [a muggle bar that was famous for its waitress’ chest sizes back in America] came up next to him, leaning on the back of the booth that Mike was sitting on.
“What can I get you two?” she said, nudging Mike in the shoulder. “Another round?”
“Read my mind babe,” he said, his eyes wandering to her shirt and then her ass as she walking off.
“Mike, I may hate you for making me take that shot, but I still am your sister. One day you’re going to get an STD and I’ll be there saying ‘I told you so’,” I warned him, pointing my finger at his face accusingly.
“You should be relaxing, not chastising me. And plus, I’m a big boy Michelle,” he said grinning like a mad man. I rolled my eyes and looked at the menu since I was just about starved from the tryouts and that bread didn’t help at all. Mike was still watching the barmaid with interest. I put down the menu in front of me. It was full of the typical English pub food, which I was not in the mood for since I figured the grease and the alcohol wouldn’t mix well in my stomach.
“Couldn’t we have gone anywhere somewhat American?” I asked after he downed his new shot which the chick had brought him. She then winked at him and then placed my shot in front of me, which I looked at with disgust.
“Where is the fun in that?” Mike said, his eyes still on the barmaid.
I rolled my eyes for the second time and when the time came to order from the busty beauty, I ordered Fish and Chips. It was the only thing that I thought looked safe to eat since my teammate Julia swore by them when she visited England two summers ago during a Quidditch camp.
“Hmmm … Those are good here,” Mike said, “I’ll have the same. And a tall glass from the tap.” He added a wink of his own and the girl blushed and swung her hips as she put the order in at the kitchen. Needless to say, Mike wasn’t listening to my complaints of his sexual excursions.
“Mike!” I said, waving my hand in front of his face. Man it seemed like I was the older sibling here.
“We should be celebrating Michelle! I mean you got onto Puddlemire United for Merlin’s sake,” he said triumphantly as he took another piece of bread.
“I never said I wanted to get drunk,” I hissed with a lowered voice.
“You don’t have to!” I held my urge to roll my eyes for the third time. Then, there was a huge commotion as a pair of redheaded twins that looked about my age swaggered into the pub liked they owned the place. People raised their glasses to them at the bar, praising them and some even offered to buy them some drinks. Why they were popular, I had no idea why, but Mike seemed to light up like a light bulb.
“Well if it isn’t Twedeldee and Twedeldum. I’ll be right back.” He smiled oddly at me, which I returned with a scowl. There was no way he was going to get away with leaving me that easily when I could feel the hungry eyes of the drunks at the bar on me. Never the less, Mike walked over to the booth that the twins had occupied and they both leapt up from their seats, giving him a slap on the back and wore a pair of high voltage grins. Apparently they knew each other quite well. I took a swig from my Coke and looked at the fire on the other side of the room bored. If this was celebrating for his sister, I didn’t want to know how he treated girls the next morning when he threw them out of his room.
I looked back at the shot in front of me. The competitive drive in me was signing in my veins and again, I grabbed the shot and drained it, gulping it down and gasping after I could breathe again. If Mike came back, if he ever did, he would find that he had started a bad thing by making me drink.
“Oy Michelle!” my brother called. It was odd for he never said “Oy” when I saw around. But then again, I’d never been around my brother much when he was in England with his friends. I took my Coke, grabbed a piece of bread, hoping that both would help me get the taste out of my mouth, and joined my brother.
“So you’re Michelle that Mike always talks about,” the one on the left said as he held a mug of something that definitely wasn’t butterbeer and winked at me. I smiled politely back, thinking of nothing else to do.
“Righto Fred!” my brother said slapping him on the back as he grinned back at me. The even odder thing was that he said in a perfect English accent. I knew that he had been living here for a couple years now but I didn’t know that he had picked up the accent. I guess he could switch back and forth from American to British.
“S’cuse these rude gents,” the other twin said, “I’m George Weasley.” I shook his hand, thankful that he at least had some sort of manors. You could never tell with the hoodlums that Mike associated himself with.
“And I’m Fred Weasley,” the other one added before shaking my hand with the one that wasn’t holding the mug.
“They run the joke shop down the street,” my brother explained and again in an English accent, ignoring my raised brow. There was no fucking way that I was going to start having an accent. Not unless you got a couple more shots in me.
“Profits are going well my friend,” Fred said with a chuckle as he stroked his green dragon scale jacket.
“A joke shop? Sounds … cool,” I said, feeling awkward since Mike was too busy talking to the other twin, George.
“You’re American aren’t you?” Fred asked, noticing how my accent stuck out like a sore thumb. I shrugged my shoulders.
“Yeah, I graduated from Mills Academy,” I replied, catching Mike’s thankful glance. I decided that I better not mention that’s where Mike went since he seemed to have blended in with the environment quite well here. I felt my hands and legs become more light as I ran my fingers through my blonde hair nervously.
“Bloody brilliant school,” George said before taking a shot of fire whiskey, which the busty barmaid had brought him after telling him it was from a guy named Dean. I snickered inwardly. I loved the English and there little mannerisms like ‘bloody’ or ‘bleedin’. Later in my life, I would mix them into my normal American slang without even noticing.
“So what’s the occasion?” George said nudging Mike and then looking at me.
“Yeah you normally don’t bring Michelle here,” Fred said looking my up and down. I felt a blush rise in my cheeks, but I managed to mask it with a smirk.
“Well she made the Puddlemire United team,” my brother beamed as he put an arm around my shoulder. I could smell the alcohol on his breath from here since he had finished his glass of beer that he had ordered before. Sadly, I felt the feeling like my arms and legs were floating in the air and a smile was now something that wouldn’t get off my face. I was on my way to getting drunk, although I didn’t want to admit it.
“No joke,” my brother said putting his other arm around me. Well wasn’t this awkward? I didn’t show it because that stupid smile was still stuck on my face.
“That’s so funny because we know someone who also made the team,” Fred said with a wink as he turned to George. He then looked at me and then gasped. “This lady needs a drink!” He turned around to the table, which had a black tray loaded with shots on it. I assumed the barmaid had set it there but before I could say anything, one of the twins thrust a glass into my hand. Not wanting to seem like a wuss, I downed the shot in front of them, trying to ignore the taste. I hoped they didn’t notice the way that my mouth scrunched up from the burning.
“Even funnier thing is, we invited him down here for a congrats drink. Well speak of the devil!” George said standing up from his seat and greeting the guy who just walked through the door. He was wearing jeans and a gray shirt that said ‘Got your tickets?’ and then lower said ‘To the gun show!’ and had arrows pointing to his biceps. My breath escaped my lungs and my heart pounded as I gulped nervously. These feelings had to be from the alcohol because I remember that on the field, he wasn’t as hot. Normally a cocky shirt like that would have made me gag, but he looked incredibly handsome in it. So handsome that he challenged my brother for right to the throne for ‘Most Fucking Handsome Man I Have Ever Seen.’ He cleans up quite well I guess.
“Oliver!” Fred said slapping his back and handing him a drink, which he accepted gratefully. He took a swig, draining the glass completely in one swig. So the Scot could drink his liquor, I could give him that. Other than that, I really didn’t have anything else to say to him. I turned, covering my face with my hair, hoping he couldn’t recognize me. I did not need Oliver seeing me drunk.
“Yank is that you?”
When I turned to see him, he was cocking his head to the side. There was an element of surprise and satisfaction in his voice and he tried to mask it. He didn’t succeed. Fred, George and Mike laughed as his face broke out in a smile. But I fumed. I didn’t care how handsome he looked. I didn’t care how he made my heart race and my palms sweaty. How dare he insult me off the field! And more importantly in front of my brother and his friends, who I was trying to get to know better! If I had to teach him the lesson of not fucking with me right now and not on the field so be it. But right now, I had to grab onto the table for support. Maybe it was better that I commenced said lesson when I wasn’t in the presence of alcohol.
“I’ll be right back,” my brother said as he got up and went to the bar, his steps not completely in a straight line. I suspected that he had more shots and when I looked back at the table, I saw that I was right. Mike then stared talking to some raven-haired beauty at the bar, who looked like she was Spanish and seemed to actually give him the time of day. I should probably clean the guestroom before he comes home. I was about to leave since I knew this was going to be awkward, but I couldn’t leave since George seemed to be blocking me from the door.
“So when do you start?” Fred asked to Oliver, striking up a conversation as George gave me another shot. I gulped, knowing that in Oliver’s eyes, I would look like a wuss, so I drained it, slamming the glass onto the table. Oliver jumped slightly at the sound and then looked back, smirking.
“Start what?” I said staring him right in the eyes, trying to be tough. Oh those chocolate brown eyes. Bad brain! He was the enemy and was with that bitch Katie. I could control myself since I had before so many times at school. But this is was so damn hard when he was making my knees go completely weak and I was drinking, which made things so much worse!
“Start practice with Puddlemire since I made the team this year,” he smirked proudly as he received a mug from George who had slipped down onto one of the seats and grabbed my waist, pulling me down next to him. I came down with an ‘ooomphf!’. It was not graceful.
It then clicked in my brain, but since I was slightly drunk, it came out a couple seconds later.
“You’re the keeper!” I blurted out, unable to control myself as I reached for another shot glass. “You’re Oliver Wood!” I now knew why Mike liked to drink so much. I loved this feeling of me floating and how the room seemed to the spinning slightly. It was so trippy, yet like when I was flying high on a broom. And Merlin knew I loved flying on a broom.
“Why yes,” he said smirking again as he took a sip and sat down next to George.
“Oh joy,” I said rolling my eyes and leaning against the booth behind me. There was no way I was going to make it through the season when he was on my team. Boy this was going to be an interesting chapter of my life; I knew it already before I had started it.
“I know I’m excited. The team should be good, which means good betting money for us,” Fred said taking a sip of beer. I tried to suppress a giggle as the forth from the beer gave him a mustache; I failed.
“I talked to the coaches and they said that the new chaser is amazing. Her last name is Dunbar but the coaches praised her so much that she was better then most guys out there. She was so swift and such a natural; she worked well with Marino and Forrester and was quick like lightening,” he said smirking at me, thinking that I had been cut and that some other chick had taken the spot had probably made the team. Little did he know that she wasn’t on the team and it was me instead. A smirk came across my face as I reached for George’s beer and took a long swig. I could see George’s eyes on me but I chose to ignore them.
“Since when do you talk to the coaches Oliver?” Fred said, laughing as he downed another shot. Feeling inferior, I took another shot and downed it right away,
smirking at the slight raise of George’s eyebrows.
“Since I was on the reserve team last year,” Oliver said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “They said they want raw talent this year. That and they couldn’t get any good trades since the players wanted such a high pay. Cambert is enough for Puddlemire to handle.”
“Sure Oliver,” Fred laughed, taking a sip of his own beer. I was about to take some of George’s when he spoke.
“Oh I’m sorry, I haven’t introduced our friend here,” the redhead said laughing as he let out a hand towards me. He then let the hand rest on my knee under the table but I was too drunk to slap it off. “You know her as Yank apparently. Her name is Michelle Dunbar.”
“What?” Oliver said, spitting out the beer that he had been drinking. He looked at me with amazement, as if I wasn’t good enough to get on the team.
“It’s true. I’ve made the team,” I smirked, leaning forward over the table slightly, before taking a large swig of George’s beer, which he let me and then started to let his hand rub my knee. He turned out to really touch my skin since there was a rip in my jean there. He started making circles with his fingertips and by now, I was drunk enough that I felt I was really flying high on my broom.
“Puddlemire is coming to an end, they’ve let a Yank on the team,” Oliver said taking a sip of his beer and leaning back into his seat. I wanted to lick the foam off his upper lip but my willpower prevailed. I instead narrowed my eyes on him.
“You should be honored to have me on the team. You need someone to whip you Tories into shape.” George laughed and pulled me closer to him, ignoring the looks that Fred was giving him since after all, I was Mike’s sister and I figured that Mike was big business since he was a huge jokester.
“Like you could whip me into shape,” Oliver said rolling his eyes and then George added a naughty comment in my ear, which I chose to ignore. Instead, I took off my black jacket since I was feeling hot, which wasn’t a good idea since George’s eyes went right to my chest and took my undressing as a hint. I took another shot, which didn’t go down that well.
“I bet I could score on you easily,” I challenged right as the liquid left my mouth so I didn’t spurt it out on the table as I pointed a finger at Oliver, trying to ignore the burning and protest from my stomach.
“I wouldn’t do that,” Fred said, his tone changing from jokingly to serious. Oliver, meanwhile, looked like he was laughing at me. I scowled back at him.
“He’s bloody good,” George said nodding his head as he took another sip of ale. How dare them! They didn’t even know my skills at all! Oh, I’d show them.
“If there was a dartboard in here, I would shoot all of the darts and they would hit the center,” I said after I hiccupped. “It’s been done before!”
“When you’re sober,” Fred muttered and Oliver chuckled, taking a sip from his mug. “We should take all the alcohol away from you or something bad might happen.”
I was going to ask what when I realized what he was talking about. I hadn’t been keeping track of how much I had been drinking and by now, my words were slurring and I was repeating myself often. My own hand was on George’s thigh and slowly going upward and I suspected that Fred knew what was going on. Oliver may have known, but he didn’t show that he knew. I wasn’t myself and the room was starting to spin.
“Where are you going?” Oliver said jokingly as I felt myself start to get out. “Going to the next pub to get some more booze are we?” Suddenly, I finally felt my body get out of George’s embrace and run outside onto the street. I turned the corner and suddenly I felt my insides squirm and the alcohol from my stomach come up to my mouth. I bent over and threw up on the brick wall. Needless to say, it was not one of my more gracious and beautiful moments. As my hands grabbed at my stomach, I muttered to myself that I would never drink again. I tried not to get it all over my shoes and my hair, but I suddenly felt my hair being lifted out of my face and I would have said something if I hadn’t thrown up again. I began to feel tears prick my eyes and then the water began to cloud my vision. Soon, the tears were tasting salty in my mouth and my legs gave way. I didn’t fall to the ground, but instead I found myself in the arms of Mr. Oliver Wood himself.
“Hi.” It was just about all I could manage to say.
“Hi,” he smiled back. “Looks like you had a bit too much to drink.”
I then blacked out in his arms.
A/N: hope you like it! I've written the end of the story, I just need to edit a couple things in some of the chapters since I wrote it a long time ago and I had a couple of good plot ideas.
Previous Chapter Next Chapter
Other Similar Stories
Fly Before Y...
Twists and Turns
A Beautiful Mess