Bad Friend

38. Birthday Boy Part Two

i'm back!!! i'm really sorry about the incredibly long wait, and also for the short chapter, but i've been struggling with where i want this story to go. i know how i want it to end, but i'm just not sure how to get there. rest assured, i do still want to finish it because i do really love this story, there just might be a big time jump or i might move things around in terms of the real "timeline." hopefully, the wait won't be as long next time. enjoy!!

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I was definitely not prepared to deal with Emily tonight.

Harry and I stayed out way later than we probably should've, and now we were here at this party, both of us nursing huge hangovers. We did what we could before coming to the restaurant where the party was being held, which was to say that we were pretty much dead to the world until about five o'clock when we had to start getting ready. I thought it had helped, but the second I got off Harry's bed my stomach was churning.

"Would you kill me if I didn't go?" I asked him. I was supposed to be doing my makeup, but instead I was laying on the cool tiles in the bathroom.

"If I have to go, you have to go," he said, so here I was.

The food looked good, but unfortunately as hungover as I was, the thought of consuming anything at the moment sounded wildly unpleasant, so I shook my head every time a server came by with a tray of food.

I didn't really know what to do here. Harry was off doing his thing, and this time I couldn't be upset about it. This was his birthday party, people obviously wanted to spend time with him, and I wasn't about to trail behind him like a lost puppy.

But I didn't know who to walk up to or see anyone I recognized yet, so I lurked by the bar, debating whether I should combat my hangover with more alcohol or not. I wasn't having a good time, but I wasn't having the worst time either. Harry smiled over the tops of heads when he caught my eye, and came over when he could, but I urged him to hang out with his other friends. "Love you," he whispered in the softest voice so no one could hear him, and I would squeeze his hand as a response, trying not to be too obvious as I watched him walk away.

"Gwen! Hi!"

For reasons completely unrelated to the shrill voice calling my name, my head throbbed. I debated ignoring her, to turn to a complete stranger and start a conversation so that she wouldn't come up to me, but she said my name again, and I knew I couldn't.

I found Emily's persistence strange. If she really didn't like me, why not just avoid me like I tried to avoid her? Why did she have to keep reminding me of her existence? After the whole Jamaica thing, I steered clear, or tried to anyway. If we had any interactions, it was because she initiated them.

"Hello, Emily," I said. "You're looking...well." It was the best I could do, I had nothing to say to her.

She surprised me by bringing me in for a hug, to which I immediately recoiled. And it wasn't just because she was the one who hugged me. Well, it was and it wasn't. I didn't like being hugged, especially by people I didn't know or was uncomfortable with. Emily was both of those people.

"Please don't—" I said, pulling away from her. She looked genuinely hurt, but I wasn't sure why she would think I would want to hug her. Still, I felt the tiniest bit bad for my gruffness. "Sorry, I just—I'm not much of a hugger."

"That much is obvious," Emily muttered, her face morphing into something much more familiar to me, but it was gone in a split second.

It was awkwardly silent, but I wasn't going to do anything about it. I didn't like Emily, I wasn't going to go out of my way to be nice to her, not anymore. So we stood there looking at each other, which is when I noticed her...unusual outfit tonight.