"I got my hopes up again,
Oh no,
Not again..."
-
This isn't fine.
I had been sitting on that couch for almost two hours, and there was still no sign of Harry. I had practically bit my nails down to the bone out of stress, worrying about what he could have possibly gotten tangled up in downstairs. From what I had seen, he had been drinking quite a lot, and although I knew he could hold his liquor maybe he had gotten sick? I had also been drinking quite a lot to compensate for my nerves, so I was pretty tipsy at that point.
Well I guess more like drunk.
I had texted him over a hundred times trying to see where he was, or if he was okay, but I never got an answer.
I was beyond worried at that point, and the fact that I hadn't heard from him didn't help in the slightest. Even if he had somehow gotten swept away into conversation, I assumed he would've at least texted me back.
Or at least I thought he would have.
"Heard anything from Mitch?" I asked, turning to Fi who was still on the couch beside me.
"What?" She questioned, looking up from her phone at me, almost confused.
"About Harry, has he heard anything?"
"Oh yeah right, um- nope nothing." She flicked her eyes between her phone and me.
I let out a long sigh, taking another drink out of the bottle of vodka, moving anxiously in my seat. I couldn't keep still.
I was so confused as to why Felicity wasn't also freaking out about the situation. I seemed to be the only one who was concerned about Harry. She had downed about a whole bottle of vodka herself, and had been trying to get me to dance with her half the night.
"Maybe I should just go and try to find him myself. Maybe he got sick or something, he's probably up in his apartment." I said, starting to get up from my spot on the couch.
"No!" Felicity snapped, pulling me back down onto the couch by my hand, "he's fine Cali- he's probably just talking to some uh- business men about the bar. You know how you are with crowds. You don't need to go down there. He will be fine." She tried to reassure me.
Something about her was off, but I couldn't put my finger on it. She was probably just trying to hide her own feelings about the situation so she wouldn't worry me, but she was acting very out of the ordinary.
She tended to put herself aside for the well-being of others, though I hated when she did, even though I wasn't much better. I knew how it felt to not be able to put yourself first. We both always tried to take care of other people instead of ourselves.
"Yeah you're right." I replied, not wanting to argue.
I placed my fingers on the side of my head, rubbing my temples as I felt the beginnings of a stress headache coming on. I had never felt that bad while drunk before.
I worried about everything, and when it involved people I cared about, the feeling tended to take me down with it. My stress could honestly have eaten me alive.
I felt sick to my stomach from the mixture of all the overwhelming emotions and alcohol. Every few minutes I'd get a whiff of tequila from the stain on my dress, only making my nausea worse. I tried to focus on my breathing, trying to keep myself from hurling my guts out on the floor, finally deciding I had enough vodka for the night and I should probably only accept water.
