Bet On It | H. Styles

xxiii

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I quickly slammed the door.

My breath picked up.

I began to panic.

This cannot be happening right now.

Why the fuck is he here?

Well, I guess because he's Derek's best friend and he's here for the wedding– but why the fuck is he here?

Patty, that little sneaky, conniving, bitch. She knew all along who else was staying here, she knew very well that it was him. If I don't kill myself first, then it's gonna be her. Maybe Harry. Heck, maybe even Derek because he's been pissing me off lately. Perhaps all three. What a predicament, who am I going to choose?

This week was supposed to bring me comfort, to be relaxing, to be the opposite of drama-filled, but as per usual, nothing ever goes to plan. Harry being here was going to cause discomfort, stress, and chaos. Dr. Hill says I don't need any of that right now, especially now. I'm going to have to give her a call.

I tried to calm my breathing, but I couldn't manage to control it. Just seeing his face brought pain and anger and I didn't know what I was going to do.

Taking one final deep breath, the deepest breath I could muster, I reopened the door, giving him my dirtiest glare. I wanted him to know right off the bat I was to not be messed with at all while we'd be in each other's presence.

"Hello, again, princess," he smirked, swaying back and forth on the balls of his feet.

"Six years later and you still have a death wish," I hissed.

"Six years later and you're still an annoying bitch," he shrugged, the smirk never fading from his pathetic face.

"Uh, Harry," someone spoke from behind him. My eyes snapped to whoever it was, noticing three other guys with Harry. I scrunched my eyebrows in confusion. Who the hell were they?

"Ah, right, well, I'll commence introductions when we're actually in the house," Harry gestured for me to move out of the way. I rolled my eyes, allowing the four into the house.

They walked past me and to where I assume to be the living room. I looked out into the night outside, fighting back the urge to scream into oblivion before closing the front door.

I followed them to the living room, nearly tripping over their dropped luggage. Wow, all guys really seem to be pigs. Harry joined us, holding out a beer for each of the guys including himself. I never said make yourself at home.

"Wendy, meet my band."

My jaw dropped open at the mention of a band. A band? A band?

"Lads, meet Wendy." Then Harry sat down on the loveseat, propping his feet onto the table and turning on the TV on the adjacent wall.

Realizing he was never going to say their names, they each stood up to shake my hand and introduce themselves.

"Hello, Liam, nice to meet you."

"Louis."

"I'm Niall. Great house you have."

Liam, Louis, Niall. And Harry. A band. I don't know why this was so shocking, but I never knew Harry to be so musically inclined. At least not enough to be in a band.

Looking over each of the guys, they all had brown hair, but their distinct features helped differentiate them from one another. Liam had tattoos that covered his hands, Niall had none, and Louis well, he was the other one. And from just meeting them, they all seemed quite nice. How they could be in a band with Harry was beyond me.