Harry Styles One Shots

Implications - Part 3

 You've been staring at your bedsheets at the foot of your bed for well over an hour now. You're sat up straight, head lolled backwards and resting against the wall as you sit sunk into a pillow. Your legs are crossed under your duvet, your makeup from last night is still on, and your hair is an unbelievable state.

Last night was a disaster. After your major hiccup all hell broke loose; Leigh was yelling at you, Paige was yelling back at her, and Ria had just glared at you. And you just couldn't find the words to speak. You can't really remember much of what Leigh had yelled about, but you do remember that she'd called you a shit friend at least twice, so that was... comforting. Not.

For most of it you'd just stared into your cocktail, too pissed to contemplate a suitable answer to Leigh's incessant questioning, and in the end you'd just upped and left with most of your cocktail still waiting to be drunk. You knew you had a valid excuse for not telling her, which Paige had reiterated multiple times on your behalf, but you still couldn't find the energy to bite back.

Leigh was the last of your worries, though. And perhaps she should've been the first, but all you could really think about was the fact that you could've completely trashed Harry's career before it had even begun. Guilty was an understatement, and you desperately wished, naively, that you could go back in time and take back what you'd said. You really fucking did.

You're supposed to be meeting Harry in half an hour, and every time the thought even crosses your mind you immediately feel as if you might throw up. You remember now why you don't drink too often. Alcohol is just like a truth serum - it's just dangerous.

In the back of your head you're aware of the doorbell ringing, but you're feeling too idle and too sorry for yourself to get out of bed and answer it. You're still trying to think of what to do about your relationship with Harry.

If you keep seeing him and never mention anything about Leigh finding out, the only issue you would then have is Leigh perhaps telling everyone out of bitterness. You know she has the side to her; you've seen it before. You've just never been on the receiving end of it. But that would mean you'd be lying to him, and you've already learnt from last night's happenings that it's not big or clever to lie.

On the other hand, if you do tell Harry he could end up despising you, and that is the thing that makes you want to empty the contents of your stomach onto your bedroom floor.

A harsh wrap of smacks to your bedroom door makes you jump. "Don't answer the door then, you wanker!"

You roll your eyes and glare at your door. "Shut the fuck up, Veronica!"

You're not normally one to rise to your grotesque housemate's jibes, but today you absolutely will not stand for her being a cunt just because you interrupted her hourly shag with your ex-boyfriend. Why on God's green earth you decided it might be alright to still live with her after you caught Kevin pounding into her last June is beyond you. Sometimes your lack of metaphorical balls completely outweighs your intelligence.

There's another smack on the door as Veronica walks past, and moments later Paige appears in the doorway. "Hey."

You jut your head upwards and take a deep breath. "Hi."

"Feeling alright?"

You grimace and shake your head. "Not really."

Paige visibly inhales, stepping inside of the room apprehensively and closes the door behind her. "I spoke to Leigh this morning."

"Great. What did she say?" You ask as you move closer to the wall so Paige can squeeze in beside you. You were certain it wasn't going to be good regardless, but you were curious.