𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝑺𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝑵𝒆𝒘 𝒀𝒐𝒓𝒌 {𝑯.𝑺}

Chapter Twenty Eight | Late Nights And Wine

"Would you like some?" Harry asked, holding up a bottle of wine.

I tried not to cringe at the bottle in distaste.

Alcohol was something I tried to stray away from. Years ago, when I first discovered my obsession with it, I knew that something was wrong.

I wasn't angry at my dad for giving me his traits. But it was exhausting. I had an addictive personality, which meant that I had to be extra careful when it came to certain activities. I had my fair share of alcohol in college, which often turned south once I discovered that I liked the feeling it gave me nearly as much as my dad. I loved the oblivion and numbness that it supplied when every other coping mechanism seemed to fail. And I realized that I could drink myself into blackouts for days. It was alarming.

"No, I'm okay." I declined politely. I settled for water, thanking him once he handed me a bottle and plopped down beside me.

I watched as Harry poured himself a glass of red wine, swirling it a few times before taking a tentative sip. He relaxed on the couch, situating himself to where his head laid against the armrest. Then he placed his legs in my lap, looking up from his glass with an intense stare. "This okay?" He mumbled, referring to his calves resting on top of my thighs.

I nodded silently, sinking in my seat a bit before raising my feet and propping them on the coffee table in front of me.

We were back in the lounge, unwinding from the concert that just ended nearly an hour ago. At first, I was going to go straight home, but Harry convinced me to stay a little while longer.

"What are you thinking about?" He whispered.

I traced the pattern of his flared pants, letting out a sigh before turning to him. "Just hoping that my family isn't in too much disarray since I've been out."

He cracked a smile. "You don't think they can manage?"

"No." I grimaced. "I don't think they can." The sentence came out darker than I intended. It didn't sound rude, but definitely nowhere close to optimistic.

Harry remained quiet, thinking deeply about something as he looked away from me. He drank the rest of his wine, reaching to pour some more with languid movements.

"You deserve to be happy, Mia." He finally spoke. "Without stressing about them."

I shrugged, forcing a grin onto my lips. "I am happy."

He didn't seem to believe me, measuring my expression with apprehension. "Everytime you bring them up, it's like you're a different person. So much more weary and...and tired."

I knew he was right.

"I'm happy." I repeated. "Some days I'm more drained than others. Or sometimes, it's a bit harder to crack a few jokes. But, I'm a relatively happy person. I can't let my family hold me back from enjoying life, right?"

His lips twitched up into a smile, eyes closing on their own accord as he shook his head slightly. "You're unreal."

I furrowed my eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

He disregarded my question, "You should be an inspirational speaker, Mia. Share you story with the world."

I grimaced at the thought of that.