Harry Styles has it all. He's a famous popstar and he's using his voice to make the world better, which is what he's always wanted. The only thing he doesn't have is someone to call his. Yes, he's a hopeless romantic, but is it too much to ask for s...
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After saying goodbye to Harry (which I'm trying not to think about, because that last kiss was so much better than it should've been, especially since it wasn't sexual at all), I go outside and quickly call an Uber.
Soon, the car pulls up in front of Zayn and Liam's apartment, and I pay and thank the driver before getting out and walking up to the door.
Liam opens it on the second knock, looking slightly pissed off. He doesn't say anything, though. Yet. First, he steps aside to let me come in, and I take a seat on the couch, shifting uncomfortably when both of my friends turn to face me, side by side, looking like disappointed parents.
"How much of a headache do you have?" Liam asks, and a look of confusion passes over my face.
"Um, it's not too bad, I don't think? Why?"
Liam crosses his arms. "I need to know how much I can yell at you."
Zayn raises an eyebrow at his boyfriend. "Okay, I think that's my cue. Good luck, Louis," he says, patting me on the shoulder and walking out of the living room.
"Wait, Zayn—" I try to start, but he's already gone, and I'm left alone with Liam. I attempt to swallow the lump in my throat and fail miserably.
"Louis, how many drinks did you have?"
So. This is an interrogation now, I suppose.
"Five?" I say, but it comes out like a question, and isn't very convincing. To be honest, I think I lost count after three. Five is my best guess, but who knows.
"Right. Five. That's enough to make you pretty drunk." His voice is deathly calm. I feel like I'm in the eye of the storm, and lightning could strike at any moment.
"Um. Yes." I decide to keep my answers short, so maybe there will be less of a chance that I'll set him off.
"Okay. And Louis, who's place did you stay at last night?"
This is the question I'd hoped I could avoid. I'm not worried about Liam telling anyone—he knows as well as I do the complications of being gay in the music industry—but I am worried that he doesn't seem to like Harry very much already and this will only make it worse.
"I told you. A friend's," I say, and it comes out sassier than I meant it. Liam raises one threatening eyebrow.
"A friend's," he repeats slowly. "A friend you just happened to meet at the party, happened to get drunk with, and, by the love bites all over your neck, happened to sleep with? Louis, are you trying to break contract here?"
"Fuck the contract," I mutter under my breath. Liam sighs.
"Look, I don't have any love for it either," he says, and I feel like laughing. He can't possibly understand what it's like for me. "But, Louis," Liam adds, "you can't drag more innocent people into this."
I look away. He's bringing up the one thing he knows will get to me. I feel guilty enough already that El's been dragged into this, and while I might not always like them, I'm also guilty that I've dragged Zayn and Liam into it, mostly by ranting to them whenever I feel like it, which is pretty much always.
"Trust me, I know," I tell him, and I hope my voice is sincere enough that he'll actually believe me. I'm not lying, but I don't totally believe myself either.
"Louis, you know you're one of my best friends, and I'll support you no matter what," Liam says, walking over and sitting next to me on the couch. I raise my eyebrows at him. "Well, maybe not always. If you killed someone we might have to have a talk. But. Something tells me whatever happened last night wasn't a one-time thing for you."
"I don't know. Harry's—" My eyes widen and I realize my mistake. Liam's eyebrows shoot up and he blinks a couple of times, almost as if trying to figure out if he's dreaming.
"Harry?" Liam repeats, and I wish I could go back and tell myself not to say it. But it's too late. "Harry Styles? The same Harry you've been unhealthily obsessed with for years?"
I slowly nod. "That would be him, yeah."
Liam does the last thing I expected him to do. He chuckles.
"Well, Louis, usually I'd be congratulating you," he says. "That's a pretty big thing. I mean, you finally met the man you've been in love with for—"
"I'm not in love with him," I interrupt. "I think he's hot. There's a difference."
Liam stares at me. "Louis, you stayed the night," he says, and I look away. Because he's right. He's right and I hate it. I stayed the night because this isn't just a one-time thing for me. And I don't think it is for Harry, either. Or, well, I hope it's not. I don't think I'll be able to survive if I don't get him back under me soon.
"Are we done with this conversation?" I ask, knowing I sound rude and not caring in the slightest.
Liam sighs heavily. "No," he says. "But go. We can finish this later."
I smile tightly at him and leap up from the couch, pulling out my phone on the way to the kitchen. And lucky me, there's a text waiting.
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A/N: Haha Louis' lying to himself. Anygays, hope you liked this chapter!
