quarantine // h.s.

part 7 // lie to me

at the end of a long night, me and jess drunkenly stumble down the hallway, basically falling down.

"babe, i left my phone charger in michaels room earlier. let me go grab it." she slurs and we walk into his room. the room has 3 sets of double bunkbeds and a large plush couch, where a large group of boys sleep. harry's recently been crashing on the first bottom bunk, and i turn around to see if he's in bed.

in his place is sierra, sleeping with her mouth open and hair sprawled across her face. harry is no where in the room, and anger grows in the pit of my stomach. why is she sleeping in his bed?

jess swings her charger around in her hand and says "got it!" i try to swallow my annoyances and walk out of the room, feeling my cheeks grow hotter from a mix of the situation and the alcohol. we finally make it back to our room and we fall onto the bed giggling.

after a few conversations, we fall quiet and jess begins to snore quietly. i pull myself up and walk out to the kitchen, filling up a glass of water. soft footsteps follow behind me and i turn around to find harry walking into the kitchen. gray sweatpants hang low on his hips and he had no shirt on. i try to avert my eyes as my caveman-like tendencies take over. harry walks behind me and runs his hand along my lower back before filling up his waterbottle. i turn around and lean against the kitchen island, staring at him.

"what?" he asks in response to my displeased demeanor.

"i just saw something you probably didn't want me to see."

"again, what?"

"sierra sleeping in your bed." i press my lips together. he sighs and rubs his forehead before grabbing my hand and leading me out to the front wrap-around porch.

"i know what it looks like but nothing happened. i told her she could crash in my bed because she was too drunk."

"listen, harry. you don't have to lie to me." i snap. "i already told you that i don't want to be involved in you two's past."

"i'm not lying to you!" he raises his voice.

"she's still sleeping in your bed, harry. it's bound to happen one way or another."

"it's not going to happen. we're done." he frustratingly says. "besides, why the fuck do you even care. you're just a girl i'm fucking."

somehow, deep down, that hurt me. as much as i hate him sometimes, the little moments we've had on the beach and resting in bed still meant something to me.

"wow, harry. that's a great thing to say to get laid." i scoff. "you can finally go fuck sierra because i'm gone. i'm no longer just a girl that you're fucking." i storm back inside and slam the door, and sprint to the bathroom. tears well up in my eyes at i look at myself in the mirror.

"no... no." i wipe my eyes and shake out my hands. i cannot cry over a man, especially one who i hooked up with twice and just laid in bed with a couple of times. the reduction of my morale down to just a girl that he's fucking struck me to my core, especially because we hadn't even had sex yet. i compose myself and make my way to my room, just wanting to fall asleep and let this night come to a close.

~~~

in the morning, i wake up to the sound of crashing waves. it was still somewhat early, but jess was already up and opened the windows to let the fresh air in. jess comes out of the en suite bathroom and lays back down in bed. "sunday scaries." she says. her face looks pale and sweaty- a classic case of a bad hangover.

"dude, you would not believe what happened last night."

she sits up in bed and cracks her knuckles. "tell. me. know." she says excitedly. i catch her up on the entire thing, basically telling her everything word by word since i've been replaying the whole thing in my head so much.

we join everyone in the kitchen for brunch, as penelope made a huge spread. harry locks eyes with me when i enter the kitchen, and a lump forms in my throat. he holds out a plate for me to receive, but i walk past him and grab my own plate, loading up some eggs and hashbrowns.

i sit down at the dining room table, trying to force food down my throat into a nervous stomach. i take a glance at him eating, he looks tired and sad. dark circles formed under his eyes and his cheeks looked sunken in.

i wish i could say i hated him. i hated what he said, but something within me says i couldn't truly hate him even if i tried.