Chapter 20 - The Duvet Hogger.

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Lennon.

 

“So you dropped out of uni to work in a bakery?” Zayn asked for the umpteenth time. That’s about as far as the conversation had gone about my interesting life. Everyone appeared too tipsy to be able to string together a comprehendible sentence. 

Two hours at most we had been sat huddled together in the living room. It started off as quite a few people but slowly dimmed down to only eight of us. Things were still somewhat awkward. I think my staring on our first encounter would permanently scar Luke. It’s not so much that I felt like an outcast because I chose not to contribute to most of the conversations, partly because they would talk about things I knew nothing about. 

I had one drink and then maybe another, and another. I wasn’t drunk, I wasn’t even close to tipsy. For a bunch of grown men who discussed such crude things I at least thought they’d drink a decent brand of beer. The one they had stocked up on was very watery and the cider was even worse, it was so sour I almost spat out the mouthful I had. But it didn’t stop me drinking, if I was going to be forced to sit in a room amongst people I felt rather uncomfortable with I’d rather do it when I felt a slight buzz and everything seemed a little less real. 

Harry was passed the point of tipsy, I determined he was drunk as soon as he pulled me to sit on his lap. I moved swiftly, only next to him but I wasn’t willing to forgive and forget straight away and cuddle in his arms. That’s not my style either. He grunted a little at my actions but once I settled down on the chair next to him and he swung his arm around my waist his mood lifted again. At least I knew what type of drunk Harry was; an affectionate one. It was better than an aggressive or angry on though I suppose. 

“Yes.” I drew out slowly, sipping from my can of dishwater – or otherwise known as cheep alcohol.

“Did you not what to become a doctor or something?” Niall asked, leaning forward from his position on the floor. His legs crossed over with his arms resting on his knees.

“You have to be clever to be a doctor,” I mused playfully. I was aware I probably sounded uptight and unable to have fun but based on the people I was conversing with, I didn’t really want to let go. They weren’t friends, housemates if that. They weren’t as bad as Emma and Jason, nothing could top them. 

“So what was you studying? Art or something? That requires no thinking don’t it?” Louis asked, his slang was eye watering. If he was a book I would have red crossed half of his previous sentence. 

“It does. But no, I did English.”

“Ah a young Shakespeare!” He half shouted with glee, raising his own can in the air almost as if it was a toast. I stared at him perplexed and amused.

“Not quite.” I chuckled, feeling Harry’s fingertips dance along my hipbone after his hand had settled underneath my shirt cheekily.

“So why’d you quit or do you really like baking that much?” Harry asked, turning his head to face mine.

“Tutor was a dick.” I deadpanned before gulping down another mouthful.

“That’s it? There has to be something more than.” Louis quickly quipped. “Did you sleep with a guy in your class and he didn’t call you back and you were to embarrassed to ever see him again?” He seemed far too happy and far too confident with his accusation.

“No. I couldn’t care less if a guy calls me back or not.”

“Give many guys your number?” Harry questioned as he nudged my knee with his. His eyebrows were doing a little dance on his forehead.

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