Acquaintances

Chapter 32: Please leave

LOLA’S POV

 My head is pounding.

Not like a ‘oh I’m so hungover my head is pounding ha ha’ kind of way, but in a ‘wow my head might actually fall off soon’ sort of pounding.

I roll over in an attempt to crawl out of bed but my mouth elicits a pained screech when a pain shoots through me from my ankle. What the fuck?
I carefully sit up, swinging my legs slowly over the edge of the bed, my eyes widening when I see the white bandaging on my ankle.

Realisation washes over me. The previous night coming back to me in brief flashes of images.
Louis turning away from me.

Harry blowing up at me.

Harry chasing me down the street.
Me blowing up at Harry and oh yep, that’s right, me falling over and pathetically sobbing.

From my select memory, I vaguely recall how sensitive he was with me, despite how mad he was earlier he just let it all go and was the only one who came running after me when I left the after party. He carried me, and evidently brought me home and put me into my pyjamas. My heart warms at how sweet he is…can be, when he wants to be. He loves to do this, worm his way back into my heart with his kindness and charm. Damn him. A small smile spreads across my face, and I’m unsure as to the reason but I go with it anyway.

A small piece of paper catches my eye as I attempt to stand up, covered in black scribble. I reach for it and sit back down.

I think we should have a break from each other. H.

WHAT?

He doesn’t want to be friends anymore?
My smile has disappeared and I’m very shamefully pouting.

I push up off the bed, regaining my balance on one foot and limping out of my room.

I cross through the living room and over to the door of Gab’s room, pushing it open. “How much did I fucking drink last ni-AHH!”

My eyes are on fire, my heart is…stone cold and black as of two seconds ago. I shake my head, willing it to be some sort of vision trick but it’s not.

Harry. Shirtless Harry, my Harry, is in Gabs bed. The sheets not covering enough to hide that she’s not clothed either. No. No. No.

My eyes take in the scene, permanently burned into my brain, and my startled cry has caused both of them to stir.

I want to stay and yell but my feet, well, foot has taken off in the other direction, my cheeks inflamed with embarrassment and my fingers shaking with anger.

No…I must be dreaming. Yeah, that’s right, I’m still asleep. I pinch my arm, waiting to wake up back in bed but it doesn’t happen. Nope, it’s real. Gab and Harry slept together. I’m gonna be sick.

I run into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me and locking it before hurling myself across the tiled floor to hover the toilet seat and remove the remnants of last night out of my system. Oh god.

Never, ever drinking again.

My head hurts, it’s an all too familiar blurry mess. I can’t think when I’m this hungover, I can’t process what I just saw. That’s…no…that can’t be right.

My heart is pounding faster than ever, it’s banging against my chest aggressively, willing itself to break free. It doesn’t want to live in this body anymore, it gets hurt too frequently and it’s sick of it. It’s leaving, still fully intact, running from the possibility of getting broken yet again, and I wish I could go with it.