Darling (Harry Styles)

chap 11

NO PERSPECTIVE
Louis' House

   The tension inside the room couldn't even be cut with a knife. The five of them stood, simply exchanging looks between one another, while Annabelle stood completely and utterly clueless. She took another sip of her beer, shaking her head and walking further into the kitchen as she couldn't take the tension that didn't make any sense to her.

Harry followed her with his eyes, the openness of the house aiding them as she spoke up, "Boys, meet my best friend, Beatrice. Beatrice, meet Harry, Cooper, and Niall—you already know Louis."

"I know them all very well," she smiled and followed Annabelle who didn't even register her words, "and wow, Louis, I must say this is a gorgeous house."

Annabelle reaches into the fridge for another beer, leaving her empty bottle on the counter as Louis takes quick notice. Her movements are sloppy—its a wonder she even won pool—and her mind isn't thinking straight, shes not going to remember any odd things that Beatrice had said to her.

"No, Anna." He approaches quickly and angrily, taking the bottle from her hands and closing the fridge, "You're done—go to your room. Beatrice, you're leaving. Get out."

Annabelle becomes enraged by his words, he's not her father—he can't say things like this to her. He has no authority, "What the fuck is wrong with you? Stop acting like my damn father, I know my tolerance. Fuck off."

She was done with this all. Him controlling her and watching her every movements had gone on far too long. Annabelle was unbelievably happy that Louis had agreed to give her a home that she needed and wanted to support her in any way he could, but becoming a father to her was not the way to do it.

She needed a friend, that was all.

Louis widens his eyes, lowering his voice so only she can hear, "We'll talk about this later, but trust me, Anna, you want Beatrice to leave. Its not s—"

Annabelle cut him off, snatching the beer away quickly and looking over his shoulder, "Beatrice, why don't we go up to my room? Have a talk about that birthday party?"

She doesn't know about the danger and she won't care if she's this drunk, Louis reminds himself just to attempt to keep calm, shutting his eyes tightly.

Beatrice nodded, "What a wonderful plan, Anna. Why don't you go on up? I want to have a little chat with Louis quickly."

Annabelle's drunken state didn't allow her guard to be up—she was previously worried about Beatrice's intentions, but her drunk mind was too far gone to even try that now. Plus, the thought of how Beatrice used to be clouded any other.

Annabelle trusted her undoubtedly and Beatrice took that to her advantage.

Finally, she nodded and used the bottle opener on the fridge quickly. Swaying slightly, Harry was tempted to help her up the stairs but he knew her anger level was far too high to be helped at the moment.

The sounds of her footsteps were loud and uneven, disappearing quickly as Beatrice walked around the kitchen counter to the back door.

"What a beautiful home," she commented, "really can't believe you've never invited me here before."

There was a small smile on her face, almost a smirk, that Louis wanted to smack right off. He didn't care if she was a woman, she was evil. And she hurt Annabelle. That was justification enough.

Louis held in his anger, replying, "I guess I never liked you enough to want to."

Beatrice put her hand over her heart, "Ouch. How can you say that to Miss. Perfect's best friend? I wonder what she'd think if I told her you said that."