High Noon [H.S]

lady friends

The sound of loud knocking is the first thing that fills my flat this morning, waking me up from my peaceful slumber. It's not the sounds of birds chirping or Holland trying (but failing miserably) to sing in the shower that normally wakes me up during the week. It's brash, obnoxious, loathsome knocking.

And I was not happy about it.  

I roll over in bed, pulling a pillow on top of my head to drown out the noise, hoping that the unknown assailant would take the silence as a cue.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

They clearly don't.

A low, guttural groan escapes me in frustration as I throw the pillow off and turn around to face the ceiling. My eyes have to take a minute to adjust to the darkness of the room; I look around in confusion, expecting to see the usual little sliver of sunshine that peaks through my curtains every morning, but all I'm met with is pitch black. My eyes squint to the alarm clock on my bedside table and it takes me a moment to realize that I'm actually reading the time correctly.

It's 6:25 in the morning. It was literally before the crack of dawn and there was someone actually out there in the world that thought that it was a valid time to be banging on someone's door.

"Holland!" My voice sounds hoarse and gravelly as I scream across the room, though I don't know why I even try. Holland could literally sleep through a bulldozer if it were in the same room as her.  There's a very slim chance that she'll hear me and go carry the burden of answering the door.

Whoever it was better hope that there was a fire or some kind of emergency going on because I was so not going to be a happy camper if I had to get out of bed for nothing. Before I even have a chance to fully push my covers off my body, the sound of loud buzzing against my bedside table distracts me. I swipe my phone from the charger, immediately identifying the name flashing on my screen and most likely the culprit outside my flat.

"Hello?"

"Hey, I'm at your door."

My suspicions are instantly confirmed.

"You're the one at my door?" I ask, incredulously. "Harry, it's barely 6:30 in the morning. Are you mad?"

He ignores my obvious irritation. "Could you come let me in? The dog next door keeps barking at me every time I knock."

I let out a deep sigh, not even bothering to give him an answer before I hang up and shove the phone somewhere into my sheets. It takes me a few seconds of stomping my feet like I'm about to throw some tantrum before I reach the front door and yank it open.

"Do you have some sort of death wish?"

I used to think that hell was being woken up by the annoying beep of an alarm clock. Today, I realized that hell was actually being woken up by Harry Styles.