My Brother's Best Friend

4.You Saved Me?

The morning sunshine floated into the room through the cracks of my bedroom curtains. I stirred in bed as my eyes fluttered open. Immediately I knew something was wrong. My head hurt like hell, my mouth was dry and tasted like beer, and there was a dull humming in my ears. It was official: I was hungover.

I groaned, wincing as I sat up in bed. I felt the fabric of the covers against my bare skin; I realized I was only wearing my bra and underwear. I couldn't remember a damn thing about last night at all. Well, that was a lie. I remembered dancing with Pietra and Niall, Louis yelling at me about my clothes, and then... I put my head in my hands. What else happened? It all faded to black from there.

See, this is why I hated parties. I always thought I'd take it easy, maybe have a drink or two and dance a little, and then this always happened. Louis was going to kill me for this. I sighed and flopped back down in my nice, fluffy bed. Maybe I could sleep for a while, let this all pass. I was just about to drift off when I heard footsteps come into the room.

I pulled the pillow over my head, whimpering a little. "Louis, I'm fine, leave me alone," I mumbled almost incoherently, my voice muffled by the pillow. "I'm just a little hungover."

Suddenly I heard a low chuckle. Wait, that didn't sound like Louis' laugh at all. I tensed under the covers, biting my lip. "Sorry to break it to you, but it's not Louis."

Oh, God. I knew that voice all too well. I groaned, pressing the pillow harder against my face.

"How are you feeling?" I could hear the smirk in Harry's voice. The creaking of footsteps grew closer, and I felt the bed dip down because of his weight.

As an answer, I slowly lifted the pillow off my face. I imagined I looked like shit. Hair messy, wrinkled clothes, eyeliner smudged with sleep. It would be fine if Louis had come in here, because I knew he wouldn't laugh until he cried like Harry would. Not that I cared what that asshole thought of me, of course, it was just embarrassing being hungover like this in front of him. In front of anyone, really.

Just as I expected, as soon as he saw my face, Harry burst out laughing.

"Damn you, Styles," I grumbled, smacking him lightly on the side of the head as he continued to laugh silently and uncontrollably. He wiped a few tears from his eyes, took one look at me, and then started laughing again.

I glared at him, sitting up in bed, arms crossed over my chest. "Sure, keep laughing, I guarantee you won't like the prank I pull the next time you sleep over here," I threatened. He just shook his head, unable to speak, gasping for breath. I clenched my teeth; what an asshole!

"Sorry, Dots," he told me when he finally stopped laughing. "It's just... your face...," he took a deep breath, regaining his composure. "Louis asked if I could check up on you, by the way. That's why I'm here."

"Get bent," I growled before crawling under the covers again. I closed my eyes, preparing to drift off again. When I woke up, this man-whore would be long gone, at least for a little while.

Unfortunately, I heard him chuckle darkly, a reminder that he was, unfortunately, still here. "Is that any way to treat your brother's dear best friend after what happened last night?"

My eyes flew open, and I immediately gripped tighter to the comforter, not letting go. Oh God. "What are you talking about?" I asked.

"Oh, just how we danced," Harry said casually, "and we both had a couple shots, and the next thing I knew you were shouting at the top of your lungs, suggesting everyone should go skinny-dipping in the pool, and you were about to strip off all your clothes-"

"WHAT?!" I screamed, shooting up in bed. Harry burst out laughing again, but this time I didn't even pay attention. Jesus Christ, had I really done that? Or was Harry just playing with me? I squeezed my eyes shut and rubbed my temples, trying to retrieve the memory.