Bloodsport (Unbelievers: Harry's POV)

Chapter 13

Harry woke up with a terrible hangover. He was lying at the foot of Louis' bed, his upper body nearly falling off it. He was naked, with certainty. He lifted his head, and it took a significant amount of willpower and strength he barely could muster. Louis was at the top of the bed. He was also nearly naked, dressed in only a pair of boxers. He was drooling. Harry felt like he was about to throw up.

He moaned. Instantly, his head clocked him like a wrecking ball.

This wasn't good. Oh, he felt sick. Horribly so. He hadn't had a hangover like this in at least a year.

Yesterday. It was yesterday's fault.

The night was starting to come back in bits and pieces. Louis groaned from the other side of the bed as Harry got up, aiming for the bathroom. His mind swivelled with memories cut in half by alcohol and sleep depravity.

He regretted it. Oh, fuck, he regretted it.

Really, it was Zayn's fault. If anyone's. From what Harry could recall. He wasn't sure how much he trust himself at that moment.

...

It was time, Zayn had announced the day before. The time had come to throw a party, and Liam and Harry, who'd just hit the parking lot after footie practice, were compelled to cooperate and assist in preparations. They dropped their cars at home, and Liam steered the way in his MINI to Sainsbury's for shopping.

"Sure it's okay with your parents?" Harry triple-checked with Liam as they strolled down the aisles of liquor and crisps.

"They always head off during the weekend. As long as I don't trash the place, we're good."

"Sophia coming, too?"

"Yeah, she'll be over."

"She seems really cool." Louis had once said she was a force to be reckoned with, and Harry was kind of intrigued to get to know her. Liam had grown on him, and Louis' amicable affection for her interested him, so he felt he was missing out on something.

"She's wonderful. You'll love her. She always —"

"Oh, for fuck's sake." Zayn threw them a disgusted glare. "I've got one fool headfirst in love who won't shut the fuck up about his — person. And then you? Even though you've had yours for like half a year already? Boys, this is ridiculous. It's time to focus."

Harry squawked. "On getting you laid! And I'm not in love!"

"Please."

Liam exhaled heavily around a smile. "You need to meet someone, mate. Then you'll get it."

"A fucked up, consensual, heated night of sex is what I need."

Harry snorted. He received a glare from his best friend.

"Vodka?" Liam grabbed a bottle of Absolut from a shelf.

Zayn gave the lads one long glance and grumbled, "Take two."

"Harry, you want anything more?"

"Should we have some shots tonight?" He was kind of in the mood for once. Lately, some of the anxiety perpetually churning in his chest seemed to have faded. He believed that hanging out with Zayn and Liam helped, but he also knew there was one particular reason above all.

"With vodka? Or are you thinking tequila?"

Harry grinned mischievously. "What about something more fun? Like... whipped cream and hard liquor."

Zayn smirked, liking the idea. He picked up his phone, making a quick google search. "Here's a recipe. Oh, I bet you're gonna' like this one, mate."

"What is it?"