Shutterbug [H.S]

Fifteen

Mila's POV

The pounding in my head only confirmed the one thing I told myself I wasn't going to do last night, and that was drink myself into oblivion. Now, here I am, hungover as fuck with a stack of work that needs to get done by this afternoon at the latest.

My eyes barely opened before the light slipping through the curtain shot pain towards the back of my skull. I somehow managed to find my phone, attempting to keep my eyes shut as much as I could to dull the ache rattling my brain.

Dead.

Clearly drunk Mila didn't care whether or not her phone was charged, but maybe that wasn't a bad thing, maybe that saved me from sending something potentially embarrassing to someone, especially Harry.

Harry. The thought of his name alone sent my body straight up, instant regret draping over me like a blanket as a burst of nausea hit like a tidal wave. I had every intention of following behind Harry once he left the bar, but not wanting to cause suspicion by leaving too quickly, I was somehow roped into playing a drinking game, that I'm pretty sure Pauli made up on the spot, and everything after that begins to blur.

Truthfully, I had no recollection of coming back to my room at all.

With a slightly aggressive rub of my eyes, one too many blinks, and a mental pep talk, I was finally allowing my eyes to adjust to the room around me, but as I did just that, realization swiftly followed. A boulder dropped directly into the pit of my stomach as my eyes scanned the space surrounding me, panic bubbling to the surface with the notice that nothing in this room was mine.

This room wasn't mine.

The hard blink of my eyes changed nothing like I had hoped, wishing that this was just a nightmare and not my reality. From what I could tell, I was alone, but with a dead phone and...someone else's clothes on my body?

Panic heightened.

The fabric clearly draped over my body was not what I had on last night, and most definitely not mine as it hung loosely over my skin. "Fuck." I whispered, bracing myself as I guided my hand down to my hip, praying to find underwear still hanging onto my body. As soon as the soft material touched the tip of my finger it was like a shock of relief filled every fiber of my being. 

I quickly began running through my options, leaning towards the one where I just make a bolt for the door and hope for the best, but my thoughts were brought to an immediate pause as the clicking of the lock bounced off of the walls around me.

Fight was telling me to brace myself for whoever was about to walk into that door, and flight, well, flight was telling me to hide under the bed until the coast was clear and make a dash as soon as whoever this was disappeared again.

I guess my body decided for me since no movement was made with the turning of the handle, clearly I might as well have been super glued to the bed at this point. 

Fight it is.

Watching the door with bated breath, someone finally began pushing through, my body so tense it felt as if I would shatter into a million pieces with the slightest movement.

Preparing for the worst, I was met with the best possible outcome of this situation.

I would know those brunette curls anywhere.

"Harry?" His name came out far breathier than intended, but my body was quickly shifting from stone to jello.

He seemed to be just as surprised as me, jumping slightly as his eyes met mine. His hands are full of what could be assumed as a bag of food and iced coffee.