<Coach Styles>

One Hundred and Five- Final Chapter

Neely's POV:
"Do you know her, Mr.Styles?" he asked, looking at me with hesitance.

"Quite well actually." I kept my back facing him and took a long sip of my drink.

This was going to be a hell of a night.

"On second thought," I cleared my throat, "Make that two Jack on the rocks."

"Since when did you start drinking whiskey?" Harry's footsteps crawled closer to me and I could feel the energy radiating off of him.

Since your stupid ass left and my stupid ass didn't follow you. I stayed quiet, looking at the bottles on display illuminated by LED lights. Unable to even think about how good he smelt or just how warm he was compared to my cold drink.

"Are you not gonna say anything?"

"Neely, please don't be like this. I've left a lot of things unsaid just as you have."

"Make it three," I said to Derek as I practically gulped down my second drink.

"You need to eat something," Harry said, trying to take the glass from my hand.

"You don't get to decide what I need and don't need anymore," I snapped, jerking the glass from his large hand trying not to touch it. Of course, I failed as I did in any attempt to keep him out of my life.

"Neely." The way my name rolled off his tongue made me feel like I was actually someone in the world, like I mattered.

"Can you just go?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I know you better than you know yourself."

"You don't know anything."

"You haven't changed a bit."

"Yes I have."

"Other than trimming your hair, drinking whiskey, and Louis making you more sassy, no you havent."

"Seriously, go away."

"Sorry, no can do. I've left you too many times already."

"You're stubborn and I hate you."

"You don't hate me."

"Yes I do."

"You hate me as much as a flower hates sunlight," he chuckled, leaning his hand against the marble bar.

"Go the fuck away," I sighed, downing my third drink in it's entirety.

"No."

"I'm gonna punch you."

"No you're not."

"I've been taking a kick boxing class."

"I know, Louis told me."

"I can kick your ass," I giggled, the whiskey kicking in.

"C'mon, gorgeous. Let's get some food in you before you pass out." He reached to help me up and I smacked his hand away. Standing, I was a little wobbly and held into the bar stool until the room settled. It was maybe ten steps to the classy table that was quiet enough I could hear myself think.

"Two strips, medium, with loaded baked potatoes and asparagus. Also, water to drink." His voice had seemed to have gotten even sexier in the three years we'd been apart, his words clear and dare I say arousing.

"You wanted to talk?" I sighed, "Talk."

"You're kind of drunk. It'll be hard to."

"Drunk mouths speak sober thoughts. Fucking talk." I rolled my eyes and cleared my throat, still unable to look directly at him. I knew if I looked at him, his piercing green eyes would pull me back under and I would never make it back out.