Harry Styles Imagines

61. He Sends You Mixed Signals

Drunk. Stupidly, undeniably drunk. Head spinning, word slurring, skin tingly. This is her first time getting drunk, ever. Despite the fact she's nearly twenty, and has been living with her alcoholic roommate, this is her first true drunken state. And the bar being crammed with hundreds of grinding bodies didn't help either.

"On the count of three, guys!" Casey, her roommate, announces at the table, holding up her shot glass in between the tips of her pointer finger and thumb, which looks much more professional than the way Y/n is holding it.

"One. Two. Three!" She shouts.

Y/n throws her head back, the glass against her lipstick covered lips. The alcohol is way too strong, especially for an inexperienced woman. She then slams the glass down like she had seen in movies plenty of times. Casey laughs, ruffling her hair with the fingers of her hand. She lets out a sighed "ah" as if feeling refreshed from her long day at work.

"Y/n, did you not finish your drink?" Casey laughs, lifting up her glass and inspecting the remaining bit of the cider-colored liquid.

"No!" Y/n laughs, "way too strong for a girl like me."

Casey giggles, shaking her head. "Whatever."

Y/n sighs, taking in her surroundings as much as she possibly can. The men and women dancing together made her heart burst with jealousy. It reminds her too much of Harry, who has only been sending her complicated signals for the last couple of weeks. He never commits to relationships, he has told her plenty of times, that he is only interested in other things. Other things he has never told her. But his games are getting old to her now, because he still treats her as if she is the only girl he has ever known. Always finding excuses to talk to her, always finding ways to touch her in the most gentle of ways. His games confuse her, yet, she doesn't care.

She thrives on him. She is so infatuated with everything he does. From the way he holds a pen, or the way his lips move so delicately when he utters a single word, and even when he runs his hands through his hair. She feeds off of him, as if he is her only chance of survival.

"I'm going to go to the bathroom." She says to Casey, who is too intrigued in the conversation of their friends to even notice her existence.

Y/n shrugs, and stumbles toward the line for the bathroom.

She's still thinking about Harry. That's all she can think about. When he's not with her, all she can feel is the way he touches her. They had only kissed a couple of times, but each time felt like so much more than lips touching each other. Every inch of her ignites when he looks at her the way he does, or the way he talks to her. Even though she has never been in a relationship, she knows what they have is more, even if he doesn't want to admit it to himself or to her.

"Annoying prick." Y/n mumbles.

She takes her phone out of her back pocket, searching through her contacts until she sees his name. She debates on whether or not to call him, but the intoxication in her blood seems to take over as she decides to call him.

Harry's phone vibrates against his table, the work he was completing now exiting his mind as he sees Y/n's name pop up on his phone.

"Y/n?" Harry asks, his attention now completely fixed on her.

"Hi, Harry." Y/n laughs.

"Y/n? Where are you?" He asks, placing his pen down as his back stiffens, he can feel the alcohol inside of her. Her drunken state is radiating through the phone. Every bit of her haze, he feels, and he is instantly feeling protective of her.