Bet On It | H. Styles

xxxi

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Last night was one for the books.

Or so I'd like to think as I cured one of many hangovers just from this past week.

It was a shame the week was coming to a close so soon, because honestly, I have been having such a fun time save from when Kenny came in and ripped me a new one. But other than that, I genuinely enjoyed my time here in Malibu.

I was still bubbling from excitement from the news from last night, most of the reason why I had the hangover in the first place. As soon as we returned home around midnight, I told Patty immediately, not caring that she was asleep. She jumped out of bed and popped open a new bottle of champagne that we all toasted with. I might've opened another bottle after that, just for myself.

This was truly a celebratory, though. I honestly never thought I would be able to make clothes and sell them and have people like them. It's all just so surreal.

So when everyone dispersed to their respective rooms, save for poor Liam again because Ginger stopped by, I continued to swallow down my champagne, headphones in so I could jam to some well deserved ABBA music. I felt like a child again. The last time I was this happy was a very long time ago. I also decided to whip out my work, drawing up new designs that peaked in my mind whether or not Patty found me or not.

Nothing could bring me down.

Except for when I woke up at around four in the morning, really thirsty and really needing to pee, just to go downstairs to see a very very naked Ginger standing in my kitchen, eating some Doritos.

I gasped very loud, turning my head immediately to look away from her. . . bare-ness. Sure, she was actually pretty fit, but that still didn't explain as to why she was in my kitchen in her birthday suit, and completely confident in doing so. She sat, legs slightly ajar, on the countertop munching away on some cool ranch.

"Ginger!" I shrieked. I hoped Liam wouldn't wake up.

Her head snapped in my direction, hopping off of the counter and putting away the bag of Doritos.

"Sorry, I was really hungry. Really built up an appetite," she giggled, sucking the crumbs off of her fingers. I was going to vomit.

"You're naked!"

She looked down to her body, realizing that she was indeed naked, but shrugged it off. "I didn't feel like searching for clothes, my bad. My hunger took over."

"Well, can you like, go find some clothes?" I hissed. I must look a bit funny since it looked like I was talking to the wall.

"I mean, you can look, I don't care. I like my body, so anyone can see it."

"Right, well, I care. Now, please, either go upstairs and stay there, or go upstairs and get clothes before sitting on my counter anymore."

"Eh, I'm not so hungry anymore. Goodnight, Wendy," and then she quite literally skipped out of the room. In my peripheral I could see her boobs bounce up and down as she bounded up the stairs. I shivered as I tried to get the image out of my head.

I walked over to the kitchen, whipping out the Clorox from under the sink, grabbing some paper towels and wiping down the entire counter. Even beyond where she sat, just incase germs spread.

And then the thought occurred to me that her and Harry had sex and then she sat on my counter. That made everything completely worse. It's one thing to just be a nudist and to sit on someone's counter, but to have sex with someone before hand, and all of yours and their bodily fluids on that counter too, that was just far worse.