Unexpected (a Harry Styles/Leigh-Anne Pinnock - Leigharry - fanfic)

Chapter 13

This couldn’t be happening. Not again. It was like a cruel trick of fate, that every time I tried to escape and run away from my problems, I ran right into them.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, barely able to get his words out.

I refused to open my mouth, as I was pretty sure I would throw up.

“Can we talk?” he asked.

I shook my head with one hand clasped over my mouth and the other on my stomach, and began to back away. Harry sighed frustratedly.

“Leigh, we need-”

“Found you, Hazza!”

Harry’s sentence was cut off as a hammered Nick Grimshaw threw himself over the younger male’s shoulder. Harry blinked at his older friend, tearing his gaze away from me in an attempt to focus on the babbling man.

“Harry, you have got to come see this!”

“Nick, I have to talk to Le- Leigh!” Harry yelled as I struggled to push through the gyrating bodies.

“No, Haz, come try this stuff!” Nick insisted.

Glancing back momentarily I saw Harry make to follow me, only to be dragged away by Nick. He glanced back and in the moment our eyes met it was as though my system was completely free of alcohol. His usually brilliant green eyes looked dull and so, so sad. It made my stomach churn and then in an instant he was gone and my drunken haze had redescended over me.

I squeezed through the sweaty, sticky dancers and barged into the bathroom. Pushing through the queue of girls and ignoring their loud protests, I rushed into a vacated stall, fell on my knees and hurled the content of my stomach. My eyes began to sting and I felt goosebumps rising on my arms. Propping my elbows on the toilet seat, I rested my forehead in my hands and suddenly found myself bawling as I vaguely registered someone approaching in a flurry of shouts of anger and excuse me’s and coming through’s that quickly escalated to get out of my fucking way!’s. And then the unlocked door was being pushed open. I looked up, blinking at the blurry figure to bring it into focus. Then I recognised it.

“Jesy?”

“Sweetheart.” She said softly, reaching down to rub my back soothingly and keep my hair out of my face as I hurled again.

“Let’s get you home.”

Jesy helped me to my feet, flushed the toilet and wiped my mouth with a tissue before handing me one to wipe my eyes with. Then she led me out of the bathroom, ignoring the scowls on the faces of the girls still in line. I was suddenly very glad they were all drunk, as I really didn’t need them recognizing me.

The next hour was a blur. One moment Jesy was pushing me into a taxi and the next thing I knew I was calling goodnight and stumbling up the stairs to bed. Before I fell asleep, it occurred dryly to me that my first morning in my new bed would be spent hungover. Great first memory to have of the new home.

* * * 

I woke up even more miserable than I had anticipated. And the splitting alternation between wailing and pounding in my head wasn’t made any easier by the shrill cry of incoming calls on my phone, somewhere in the room. I grabbed two pillows and pressed them forcefully against my ears in an attempt to block out everything. It failed. I sighed in resignation and propped myself up groggily.

Looking around, I spotted my phone not even a metre away, peeking out of under the duvet. No wonder it was so loud. I reached for it and punched in the passcode. 7 missed calls and 3 new voicemails. They were all from the same person – Zayn. He’d left no shortage of texts either. Drawing a deep breath, I made a resolve to see him figuring, I’ll have to face him sooner or later. With shaky fingers I typed,