Wrong Number [2018] Harry Styles

92. could you stop? [narrated]

saturday, 16th of february, 2019

My mom would kill me if she ever knew I drove a Mercedes in the night to get a drunk friend to his house in Beverly Hills.

But at least Harry's home safe and sound. Also drunk, but that's not the matter right now.

I get out of his car barefoot -it would have been a suicide to drive wearing high heels- and try to reach to him while getting in my shoes, but he's already walking to the front door. I don't even take a moment to admire the architectural beauty standing in front of us because Harry is struggling to get the key in the lock and he captures all my attention.

"Let me help you," I say when I'm next to him.

"No," He says abruptly. "I can do it alone. Thank you."

Harry sounds angry at me and I would love to know what the hell did I do to make him so mad, but the reasons that come to my mind feel unrealistic.

Before Harry stopped replying and got lost in the mass of people, Jaden approached me to leave a kiss on my lips goodbye, as a promise.

I felt so frustrated I didn't even move, I just watched him leave with two other friends. I was trying to process everything after that brief kiss, figuring out if I felt something more than indignation and anger. But there was nothing. No love, no affection, not even nostalgia.

When I got to the VIP section Harry was already grumpy, he even wanted to drive home alone and drunk. The only thing he told me since then was that he didn't need me as his babysitter. I obviously ignored him and took him home to make sure he was fine.

"Harry!" I yell when I see him almost fall down the stairs.

"I'm fine," He murmurs with a husky voice.

I sigh and try to keep calm, but I end up following him. I'm worried, also a bit angry because of what happened with Jaden and Harry's reaction, but I want to make sure he gets some sleep before we talk.

When I get to the second floor I take some seconds, wondering if it's a good idea to get in his room when he's drunk and exasperated.

A bit shy, and guilty, I walk to his room. The door is open so I get there in the exact moment Harry is taking off his shirt, all his muscles tense, sitting on his bed. He clenches his jaw and places his elbows on his knees, the shirt still in his hands.

"Is something wrong, Harry?" I ask worried. He doesn't look good at all, even though I think he does look hot.

Suddenly, he stands up and lets the shirt fall to the floor, walking towards me. I can't help but look at his torso and all the tattoos that decorate his skin. This would definitely be attractive if it wasn't for the fact that there's a pending conversation.

"I just wanted to... check on you," I say trying to explain why I'm here.

"Check on me?" He asks with a little smirk on his face, but there's nothing funny about it. "Why?"

"You're drunk." I frown, looking at his judging eyes. "And I wanted to make sure you would be okay."

"I am." He wets his lips and looks at me from head to toes.

What was that?

I shake my head and look at the bedside table, breaking eye contact, but he keeps walking until he's standing in front of me.

The last time I had Harry close to me was when I taught him sign language. We were in his car, in an empty parking lot. I felt the attraction between us, but I was able to leave it aside because I had no idea what my feelings were and I wasn't ready to accept them either.