Recovery / / h.s

Chapter Twenty-Four.

Lily's POV-

My head pounded against my skull rhythmically. My stomach churned and I felt as if I would vomit at any second. I couldn't open my eyes, the room was spinning, and I wanted nothing more than a cold rag to rest on my forehead. As I lay there with my eyes closed, I tried to put the pieces of last night together.

I remembered my asshole of a boyfriend throwing a fit when I insisted that he stop trying to persuade me to sleep with him in the bar's bathroom. Of course he didn't come out and ask me to, he was suggesting it with his neck kisses and wandering hands. After a twenty minute argument, he left and after that I knocked back shot after shot.

The only thing i remembered after that was Amelia's panicky voice after she told me for at least the tenth time to lay on the bench beside her instead of the sidewalk. She was talking to someone but I couldn't remember who or why. I didn't want to get off the sidewalk, the coolness of it pressed against my face just felt so good.

I opened my eyes slowly despite my brain screaming at me to keep them closed. The sunlight steaming into the room only made my head throb even more.

The blinding white comforter I was curled up in were foreign and the satin blue walls surrounding it practically screamed depression. However, I had been in this room before. I knew I had been in this room before, but when? And who the hell did it belong to?

There was a picture of a woman and two small children, a boy with green eyes and curly hair and a girl who looked to be a tad older but nearly identical to the boy standing next to her on the night stand beside me. They both closely resembled the older woman they posed with. The little boy in the picture hadn't changed much, except he was a man now instead of a boy. Same face, same curls, same irresistible dimples. Harry.

I ignored the intensity of my throbbing head as I peeled the covers off me and stepped onto the cold hardwood floor. I wasn't wearing pants and the shirt I was wearing stopped just above my knees. I hoped Harry wouldn't mind that I was halfway naked walking through his apartment, but I couldn't be bothered to put on that stupid dress that Louis had picked out for me the night before.

Why the hell was it so cold in here? I shivered as I made my way into the kitchen, the sound of a low voice singing being my leader.

"You're awake," Harry smiled, dimples showing when he saw me standing in the doorway. He had a folded piece of toast in one hand and his phone in the other.

I sat in one of the chairs next to him and watched him finish his toast. I found it odd that he folded it. When he finished, he washed the plate and put it back in the cabinet. He was such a neat freak it was ridiculous.

"Here, take this," he said quietly, holding out a glass of water and two capsules of what I was assuming were Advil. I gulped the water down and handed him the cup, resting my head on the table as he washed it and put it back in the cabinet.

He was shirtless and his plaid pajama pants hung low on his hips. Black ink covered most of his body, the only place being barren of any tattoos being his back.

"What the hell happened last night?" I wondered aloud. I heard him sigh next to me and when I finally glanced up he looked obviously uncomfortable.

Shit. "We didn't- did we?" I asked quietly, my breath getting caught in my throat.

"No, nothing like that," he defensively put his arms up and i breathed a sigh of relief. Even when I was drunk off my ass I kept my morals. I could only hope Louis did the same. But Harry still looked uncomfortable.

"Then what? What is it?" I asked, grabbing his giant hand in my smaller one for reassurance. He looked at our hands for a moment, and his eyes looked like they were somewhere else.