Delicate

Chapter 40

HARRY STYLES

I've lost count of how many times I've woken up and needed at least some time to recollect where I am. It happens the most often when I'm touring and that was constantly my life when I was still in the old band or anytime I wake up in a bed that doesn't belong to me. On the rare occasion that I did get to sleep for a full night, I hardly ever knew what city, state, or country I was in. Adding too much alcohol to the mix never helped, but while I know that my memory is foggy thanks to my hangover, it still takes me a minute to realize that I'm in Jeff and Glenne's guest room, not my own. 

I feel sick, but not just with the side effects of a heavy drinking night. It's that feeling of complete and total dread, and it's guilt, and it's shame, and it's a disgustingly selfish kind of debilitating pain in my gut. I have absolutely no right to be upset after what I did, but something tells me that I'm not coming back from it. Haven isn't going to forgive me for this mistake, there's just no way; not when she was already worried about Kendall in the first place.

But last night wasn't planned in the slightest. In no way, shape, or form did I show up to Kendall's party with the idea that I was going to kiss her. The only real plan I had was to drink to forget about my argument with Haven and to forget the fact that she couldn't just trust me and come with me. How fucked up is that? I was upset that she didn't trust me for saying that Kendall was just a friend, and then I kissed her at the party she didn't want me to go to because she didn't trust that Kendall was just a friend.

"Fuck me," I rub my eyes and clench my jaw, unsure of what to do now. All I know is that I wish I was still asleep and I wish I could stay that way. Either that, or I wish I could go back in time and change everything. Those are the only attractive options here.

Without a knock, the door creaks open as Jeff pops his head in to see if I'm awake or not. When he sees that I am, he lets himself right in and I know he's pissed. He has every right to be pissed, but I'm feeling like a little kid about to be scolded by his father, and I'm afraid as he stands at the foot of the bed with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Do you wanna tell me what the fuck happened last night?"

I stare up at the ceiling and try to replay the events in order, but the images are all blurred. All I remember for sure is taking three shots of tequila back to back upon arrival, I caught up with a few friends, we drank more, Kendall kissed me, and I saw Haven. That's where it starts to fade out.

"I don't know," I shake my head. "We were sitting there...she said something that I can't remember now, but I think I laughed, and then she just kissed me. I do remember that she kissed me, I didn't kiss her, but I didn't exactly get myself out of the situation. I think I knew I was getting too handsy before I let the kiss happen and then someone popped out of nowhere to take a picture of us. At that point, I knew that was bad, but I didn't know how to express it."

"Harry," he shakes his head right back at me, groaning in both frustration and disappointment. "What the fuck dude? Do you even know what you did? I mean, do you understand it?"

As my brows knit together and I keep blinking at the ceiling, I find it difficult to swallow and my eyes are burning before the tears slide out. Although I won't admit it out loud, maybe I subconsciously tried to fuck this up. I've been buried so deep inside my head thinking that I love Haven more than she loves me that maybe I thought I should just do something to end it before she could end it first.

But if that were the case, I don't think I'd feel this guilty. Wouldn't I feel somewhat relieved for it to be over if that was what I kept anticipating all this time? Now I'm just filled with regret and confusion and there's no way for me to rationally explain that to anyone else.