The Collection- Harry Styles

{baby honey} iv: Kiss It Better

Harry very, very rarely winds up in situations such as this. Usually, when he's drunk and alone, he's in the safety and comfort of his own home. Tonight...not so much. He's alone in a crowded bar, nursing his fourth tequila and tonic mix.

It seems like everyone around him is with someone. Then there's him. Solo. He'd been on the way to drunk before he wandered aimlessly into the bar whose name he doesn't know. And now he is dizzyingly, vision blurry, well past intoxicated and straight into oblivion drunk.

The only person he wants to be around is Jolie. She's swimming around his brain like a rainbow fish. He's thought several times about dialing her number and calling her up; he wants nothing more than to show up at her place and curl up in bed with her. But she's out of town for the weekend and him calling will only make them both feel worse.

He looks up from his drink at the iconic and now bittersweet melody of Def Leppard's Pour Some Sugar On Me. He believes it's coming from the cranky old jukebox at the corner of the bar until several of the male patrons begin to whoop and holler. His stomach churns when he realizes what's going on.

He sighs, turning his sight to the three televisions that are mounted above the bottles of liquor shelved behind the bar. It's very rarely that beer commercials make any sense at all. They're either dumb funny or feature a nearly naked wicked hot girl. This commercial just so happens to be centered around a nearly naked wicked hot girl. But not just any wicked hot girl. His wicked hot girl.

Jolie Kane appears on the screen just as the lyrics take a bottle, shake it up begin. He hates this commercial. It's always been insanely popular and he's honestly surprised he hasn't had to endure it in the months since they've broken up.

She's dressed in nothing but a sweet little pair of black panties and a white baby tee. The shirt is snug against her chest and when she turns to grab the bottle of beer on the table next to her, you can see the blatant, practically sinful curve of her ass. Several of the guys whistle out and Harry swallows.

Right before the chorus of the song begins as she takes a long drink from the bottle. He shifts in his seat at the knowledge of what's coming. Just as the chorus starts, a ton of golden pale beer gushes from above and drenches her form. It plasters her hair to her and soaks through her shirt, revealing to any and all that she's gone braless with her nipples pert from the chill.

He locks his jaw when someone shouts out something wordless. The camera slowly hones in on her face, capitalizing on each bead of beer that rolls off her shining skin. She pulls the bottle from her lips before shaking her hair out and turning to face the camera.

She's got that devilishly provocative look on her face when she says, "The beer so good, it's bad."

The pussy so good, it's bad.

He winces at the memory.

She was efficaciously drenched. More over, so was he. Well, his briefs, specifically, the tent pitched in the front of them. Harry has never much been a fan of any advertisement that relied on catering to the male gaze in a manner that resulted from a woman half-or more so- naked.

Jo might as well have been naked. The white baby tee that the director called for was so snug, it was probably cutting off some form of her circulation. It hit a couple inches above her bellybutton, a tan piece of skin bared from the hem of her shirt and the lowered waistline of silky black panties. Each and every one of her curves was delicately and boldly on display, soon for the world to see.

She was perfect in the way it only took one take to do the ad. She'd practiced for days leading up to the filming and now they were there and she had nailed it on the spot. She grinned at him, wicked and fiery, as someone handed her a towel. She draped it over her shoulders to shield her body from oncoming chill. He watched her give him a once over, eyes hitching at his crotch, before smirking. She nodded towards her dressing room.