Trace

Chapter 19

HARRY'S P.O.V.

  I was aroused out of my sleep with the bright morning sun glaring straight down on me. I open my eyes to see me collapsed on the kitchen floor, surrounded by broken glass. My blinding migraine is the only indication of what happened last night, and I stand up shakily to get some medicine for my bloody hangover.

  I gulp  down a cool drink of water, and all of a sudden, I start to cry. Confused, I rub my pounding temple and groan. El is gone. I cheated on her and now I've lost her. Come to think of it, I didn't even have sex with Gretchynn...but still. I blemished the bond and trust with my girlfriend. I shuffle my way to my bedroom and am thankful to see that my curtains are already shut, keeping out any sunlight that could worsen my killer headache. I fall into bed and am out before I can even pronounce the one syllable of El.

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EL's P.O.V.

"Good morning," Niall whispers.

I open my eyes and smile up at him, a little disappointed that the boy I wake up to isn't Harry. Nontheless, I am extremely appreciative that Niall was here with me last night.

"Thanks for being here with me," I tell him.

"Don't thank me, I'm glad I came over. You shouldn't be alone during this time."

I sigh, attempting to hold back the tears.

I turn away from him. "I'm gonna go freshen up, ok? You know where the kitchen is, so feel free to make yourself some breakfast."

I grab new clothes and make my way into the bathroom. I lock the door and as soon as I start the shower, I collapse to the floor and quietly sob.

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HARRY'S P.O.V.

BEEP BEEP BEEP!!!!!!!!!!

 Startled, I sit straight up. Who the fuck is buzzing the doorbell?? I am unsatisfied to have woken up in a terrible mood, but not like it would have mattered, anyway. I have lost any sense of joy. I moodily trudge out of my bedroom and am angry to see that it's after midnight. I slept through the entire day, and who would have the decency to even dare come to my flat at this hour?! Flustered, I fling open the door.

  "Hey, babe."

My insides boil at the sight of her. How dare she?

  "Go away, Gretchynn," I demand.

"Aww, you're not going to offer me a drink like the old days?"

  I don't even try to ignore the sparkle of excitement when she says 'old days'. I look down to see her wearing a tight, red low-cut top. Her cleavage is exposed and her breasts are pushed up. She's wearing tight black shorts...and I mean SHORTs...that flaunt her ass. It is most definitely enough to turn any guy on....any guy but me.

  "No. I'm serious- go."

Despite my obvious anger and denial of her entering, she pushes her body up next to mine, her breasts pressed against my chest. She seductively whispers in my ear: "Let's just have a little fun tonight...and I promise I'll be gone by morning."

  She rubs her hand down my chest and I feel the temptation starting to rise.

"No, Gretch. You need to leave. Now."

 Immediately, I see the shadow over her face, as it seems like she comes to a realisation.

  "Who is she?" she murmers. "Who's here?"

"No one," I mumble, "no one's here but me. But I need you to leave."

   She shakes her head slowly, "We need to talk, yeah?"

I feel the tears forming and I nod, moving out of the way of blocking the doorway and let her enter my apartment.

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        Gretchynn left about an hour and a half after she came. I told her all about how I screwed up, and cried. She was there to offer any source of comfort she had...which wasn't much. I felt sorry for her. She didn't know what to do, and I could tell that she was upset and sorry. I felt like a fool crying in front of her, but I couldn't help it. She apologised for her actions at the bar and I accepted it, knowing that I was equally responsible.

  I woke up again and ready to face the new day. Although I tried to feel better, there was a dark cloud over me that just wouldn't go away.

 I take a fast shower and am relieved to notice that my migraine has passed. I have an overwhelming urge to drive to El's and run up to her, pick her up and kiss her, promising I'd never hurt her again.

 I know this thought is no good, so I go to my room and sit down. I think of what to do, and retrieve a notebook and pen from beneath my bed. I stare blankly at the white paper, feeling the depression sink in. Then, I write.