Madeline's POV.
''Liam...'' I softly called out his name, slightly guilty that I had woken him up.
''Don't take my name like that,'' his voice a hoarse whisper. ''It's so tender that it hurts. The way you say my name''
Tears threatened to spill from my eyes at his words, the vulnerability in his voice so raw it felt like someone had slapped me on my face. He was hurting, and I was the one causing it, just by saying his name.
The thought was delusional, yet the evidence was right there in his pained expression.
"Are you drunk?" I asked, I had never really seen him drunk.
He didn't answer right away, his eyes roaming through my face, as if he could find the answer in my expression. "Let me pretend I am, even if I'm not," he finally replied, "Or maybe I am, really.''
He sat up in a swift motion. He still held my hand, his fingers a warm solace in the chaos of my thoughts. "Tell me," he asked, his voice low and pressing. ''Are we just friends?''
