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Chapter 8 - Distance - Part 3

A/N: This is a super bad chapter, I'm not back. But you know the drill. Comment what you think. 

HARRY:

If there was anything worse than being stuck in another country while your lunatic brother might be on the hunt for your girlfriend, it had to be if the reason you were stuck was a fancy-ass public event. It had nothing to offer, and I was half a mind away from ditching this thing.

It wasn’t like me to be this filled with anger, though. And I couldn’t exactly explain it either. All I knew was that this seriously sucked. My whole life was slowly crumbling before my eyes, and all I could do was take it like a man and not whine about it.

Okay, so maybe I was a bit overdramatic here, but it wasn’t all my fault. If I had to look at one more stupid producers face as they tried to pitch a mashup with me, then I might actually vomit.

“You okay, man?” Louis asked.

I swirled the champagne in my glass, nodding carefully. “Never better…”

Of course, the bitterness in my voice didn’t fool my best friend. “Yeah. Life and soul you are,” he said and rolled his eyes. “Look, why don’t you try to call Cami now. She must be off work.”

I’d already tried that half an hour ago, but she hadn’t picked up. For whatever reason, she was busy. I was worried but I trusted her. She’d call if anything happened. Besides, from what little I had gathered, Edward wasn’t exactly mentally unstable. His caretakers had all agreed that he was bright, friendly and all-around an easy-going guy who fell in with a bad crowd.

I really shouldn’t worry too much.

“She’s fine,” Niall said as he joined Louis and me. “Gotta look at the bright side. The old ball and chain ain’t here now.”

Louis frowned. “That’s the worst ghetto accent I’ve ever heard in my life.”

When Niall looked offended, I couldn’t help but to give them a small smile.

Louis faked a gasp. “Did you see that? Hallelujah, it’s alive.”

“Alright alright,” I said. “You two can stop it now, I’m done sulking. You’re right, I’m just a tad off base right now.” I downed my champagne. “Let’s do this thing. Who do we need to talk to here?”

“Well, there’s that cute blonde who keeps sending us googly eyes over there,” Niall said. “I could try to get on board that.”

I cringed. “Mental images. Dude, too much information.”

As he laughed, I looked up to see who he meant and was surprised when I was met with a familiar face.

Isabelle…

I hadn’t seen her since Milan where she’d been dating Peyton Moon, who was, without a doubt, the biggest jerk on earth. She gave me a small wave, and as a waiter passed by with champagne flutes, I swiped two and walked over to her.

“Fancy running into you here,” she said.

I rolled my eyes. “As if… You knew I was going to be here—everyone knew.”

Isabella nodded. “True… But it’s still good to see you, Harry.”

I handed her one of the glasses. “Uh-huh… Where’s your boyfriend?”

“Who? Oh, you mean your punching bag?” She shrugged. “Didn’t work out between us. Turns out, he’s a really big jerk.”

“No surprise there,” I muttered and took a mouthful of champagne.