𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐏𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐒 two years ago, my life changed forever. All it took was one night to alter the rest of my life. I wasn't sure about a lot of things however, there are two things that I was absolutely certain on: what I wanted to wear and who...
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It's a bit after eleven when my cab pulls up in front of the only white-bricked house in London that I can safely call home.
I'm not at my house. I'm at George's.
I pay the cab fare—£62 which isn't a lot considering London prices. Dragging my suitcase behind me up the stairs, I shiver in my dress as one of the bodyguards nods his chin at me and opens the front door.
Assuming he recognises me. I mean, I don't think George and Albie would just let anyone into their home. Makes me kind of giddy that the bodyguards whose name I don't know recognises me.
The foyer is dark, pitch black. I wonder if anyone's home—would the bodyguard outside have let me know if anyone was in? I didn't even think so I didn't call ahead or anything. It's hardly like George has a bedtime, though. Our whole group has an 'out all night and sleep all day' routine anyways.
"George?" I call out, drop my suitcase and bag by the front door and walk over to the first step of the stairs. "Is anyone in? It's Harper."
A minute goes by without anything. I frown, about to move away but then a light flicks on down the corridor and a figure appears at the top of the staircase tying the drawstring to a pair of bottoms.
"Haysie?" Carter jogs down the stairs wearing only the Compass-patch track pants from Stone Island. He reaches the bottom step, kissing me on the cheek. "What you doing here?"
I follow him into the kitchen. There's definitely a girl upstairs. Shaggy hair, flushed cheeks, dilated pupils, I bet he was having an absolute blast. "New York was boring."
Carter hoists himself up on the marble counter, pulling out a little baggie from his pocket while I take a seat at the table. It's very dim in here, the only light comes from the stove, the microwave and the moonlight shining in through the window.
"Yeah?" He's busy racking up a line on the back of his hand. I could tell him what happened, I'm sure he'd care but he's too coked up to listen anyway.
"Yeah," I sigh. "Where's George?" I feel a bit uneasy being here on my own knowing what he was getting up to before I got here.
"Out. Should be back in a mo," He snorts the line, clears his throat and rubs the back of his hand across his nose in a rather unpleasant way. "Want a drink or anything?"
He avoids my eye as he jumps down from the counter pinching his nose. He knows I'd lecture him although, I'm not sure I'm in the mood to do that right now. "No, I'm okay."
The muscles in his shoulders flex as he opens the fridge door. I clear my throat, play with the corner of the gel that's peeling off on my thumb. "Who's upstairs then?"
He doesn't answer right away. I know why. He knows why.
"Stop fucking judging me, Haysie."
"Oh, I'm not. I'm just wondering who's upstairs." I shrug even though he's got his back to me. He won't look me in the eye till he storms out like a child. I'm not doing it on purpose, I am just nosey but I also want him to realise what he's doing is wrong.
