Into the Starry Night

Twenty

I raised my hand and knocked on the door in front of me.

Taking a sip of my coffee I waited and enjoyed Ariana Grande singing 7 rings directly into my ears.

After a few minutes of waiting, the solid oak door was still firmly shut in my face.

Sighing, I raised my hand again and knocked, not stopping until I heard the lock turn.

“Jesus Christ, man. Were you dead?” I asked, taking off my AirPods.

Daniel stood in front of me looking very weary. His dark curls were more unruly than usual, his clothes had more wrinkles on them than when he showed up at my house only a couple of hours ago and the stylish white sneakers he wore were gone.

Even appearing like that he still managed to look effortlessly, infuriatingly gorgeous as he leaned on the doorjamb and crossed his arms.

Despite the way he looked, his eyes were as alert and sleepless as ever. Those dark brown orbs of his assessed me from the tips of my black Gucci heels to the top of my head where my voluminous hair sat in a bun that was halfway between elegant and messy.

What he saw couldn't have been what he expected because a furrow appeared between the perfectly shaped arches of his eyebrows.

“Well, if it isn't the Mistress of Hellfire.”

I plastered on a fake smile to disguise the fact that his early morning voice made my insides melt into a useless, warm puddle of mush.

“Here you go, love,” I pushed the brown styrofoam cup which still held half of my americano into his hands. “You seem to need it more than I do. You look like quite the eyesore. Are you sure you're feeling well?”

His answer was an identical fake smile.

Shaking my head, I entered the apartment uninvited.

I took off my heels in the foyer before trudging into the house.

Following the divine scent of fresh pancakes, I entered the kitchen and found Harry hunched over a cup of coffee. He was massaging his temples and looked utterly disheveled.

“Good morning,” I chirped as I joined him at the breakfast bar.

He groaned. “I don't understand why you're yelling this early morning.”

I chuckled and stole a sausage from his plate. “Glad you're alive, friend. You know for a second I actually thought you died, I would've preferred a funeral to this wedding.”

Harry fixed me with a stern glare. His eyes were red-rimmed but they looked better than they were yesterday seeing as he could actually open them.

I gave him an extra tight hug and relished the pained groan he let out.

“It's like the only reason you're in my life is to cause me pain,” he complained before clutching his temples again.

“Aww, I guess that means you don't want my special hangover remedy.”

Harry's head perked up but it was Daniel that spoke.

“If you have something stronger than ibuprofen then please, in the name of all that is good and holy, give him. He's been moaning and groaning all morning and I'm at the end of my rope,” he said as he joined me and Harry on the opposite side of the breakfast bar.

I looked at both men before reaching into my black purse and producing a bottle of Sprite.

Harry deflated. “Sprite? Seriously? The fuck am I supposed to do with that?”