𝐈𝐍 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍, ʰᵃʳʳʸ ˢᵗʸˡᵉˢ

• 𝟐𝟖 - 𝑓𝑢𝑛𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑙𝑐𝑜ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑖𝑐

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it had been almost a week since harry and i had broken up, and myla, being quite literally a functioning alcoholic, had decided it was imperative for us to go out and get drunk.
"come on, we have to drown your sorrows in something stronger than your tears," she said, wagging her eyebrows with a mischievous grin. " think of it as an exorcism, but with more tequila and less holy water."

i hesitated, but myla was relentless. "seriously, if you don't come out with me, i'll start telling everyone about the time you accidentally sent that sexy text to your mum instead of harry, your reputation is at stake here!" with that, i had no choice but to relent, and we found ourselves in the pulsating heart of the city's nightlife.

the night started innocently enough with a couple of cocktails. myla handed me a neon orange concoction. "this, my dear, is a sex on the beach. drink up!" she cheered, clinking her glass against mine. as the night wore on, the drinks became more potent and our inhibitions loosened. we downed shots of tequila, chased by vodka cranberries, then moved on to rum and cokes. each drink blurred the lines of my reality a little more.

"so, tell me," myla began, her speech slightly slurred but her eyes sharp with curiosity,
"what's the first thing you're going to do once you're over harry? besides drinking your weight in alcohol, of course."

i laughed, the sound coming out more bitter than i intended. "i don't know, maybe take up knitting seriously? start a new hobby to fill the void?"

myla snorted. "knitting? really? that's the most cliché post breakup activity ever. you're not a grandma. you need something more exciting, like skydiving or joining a roller gymnastics team."

i raised an eyebrow at her. "me? gymnastics? i'd break every bone in my body! i'll stick to dance "
she shrugged. "you'd look cute in the outfits, though."

our laughter echoed through the bar, drawing a few amused glances. we continued talking about everything and nothing-her latest tinder escapades, the crazy things our old high school friends were up to, and even the bizarre conspiracy theories myla had been reading about online.

" did you know, " she said conspiratorially, "that there's a theory out there claiming the government is hiding an entire city under the denver airport? it's supposed to be like a bunker for the apocalypse or something."

i shook my head, laughing. "where do you even find this stuff?"

she grinned. "reddit, obviously. it's a goldmine for weirdos like me."

as the night wore on and the alcohol flowed more freely, my thoughts kept drifting back to harry. "to hell with him," i muttered, taking another shot myla handed me. the alcohol coursed through my veins, and i felt a desperate need to purge harry from my mind, but the harder i tried, the more he lingered.

our favorite song, "get lucky" by daft punk, started playing, and myla dragged me to the dance floor. we laughed and danced like we had no cares in the world, the music pumping through us like a heartbeat. but as the beat thumped on, i kept thinking,"where's my boyfriend? where's harry?" my mind couldn't shake the thought, and i felt a pang of confusion. wasn't he supposed to be her with me?

as the alcohol continued to flow, i found myself opening up more to myla. "do you ever think about what could have been?" i asked her, my voice tinged with sadness. "like, if things had gone differently, where we'd be now?"

myla gave me a sympathetic look. "of course i do. everyone does. but you can't live your life in the past, ami. you have to move forward, even if it's hard."

i nodded, feeling tears prick at the corners of my eyes. "i just... i miss him, you know? even though i shouldn't."

she hugged me tightly. "i know. and that's okay. but tonight is about having fun, right? let's make some memories."

eventually, myla and i decided to call it a night. "i'm gonna crash at a nearby hotel," i slurred, hugging her tightly. she laughed and patted my back. "just don't puke everywhere, okay? you'll be charged a cleaning fee," she joked, smiling warmly.

i stumbled outside and looked at my phone, then clicked onto harry's contact. why did i have him on silent? why did i have 92 messages and 101 missed calls from him? why had i been ignoring him for the past week? the questions swirled in my head as i flagged down a taxi. "take me to *********** ," i blurted out, not caring about the consequences

when i reached harry's door, i knocked loudly, my vision swimming. harry opened the door, and i immediately noticed he was just as drunk as i was. his eyes were bloodshot, and he swayed slightly as he looked at me with a mix of confusion and relief. "amélie, what are you doing here?" he asked, his voice slurred.

ignoring his question, i stumbled inside, my legs barely supporting me. harry guided me to the sofa, but instead of sitting beside him, i climbed onto his lap, straddling him. he tensed. "what are you doing?" he repeated, his voice a mix of worry and something else i couldn't place.

"i love you," i whispered, my breath hot against his neck. i started kissing and nibbling on his skin, feeling the familiar warmth of his body against mine. "ami, baby you're gonna regret this in the morning " he said, then more firmly, "baby," but i knew i wouldn't regret it, and that was all the encouragement i needed.

"amélie," he said, my full name making me pause. i looked up at him, my vision blurry but my heart clear. he smiled weakly, his eyes softening. i leaned in to kiss him, and though he initially hesitated, he eventually kissed back. our kiss deepened, my hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. his hands found their way to my waist, pulling me even tighter against him.

"harry," i murmured against his lips, "i need you."

his breath hitched, and he pulled back slightly, looking into my eyes. "babyyy, we're drunk. we shouldn't be doing this."

"i don't care," i replied, my voice desperate.
"i want you. i need you."

his resolve seemed to waver, and he kissed me again, this time with more intensity. our kisses grew hungrier, more desperate, as if trying to make up for all the lost time. i could feel the heat between us, the longing that had been building up over the past week.

i started unbuttoning his shirt, my hands shaking slightly. he helped me, his hands equally eager. as our clothes began to pile on the floor, the reality of what we were doing hit me, but i couldn't stop. i didn't want to stop.

"amélie," harry breathed, his voice thick with desire. "are you sure about this?"
i nodded, my heart pounding. "yes, i'm sure."
we continued kissing, our bodies pressing closer together, the heat of our skin igniting a fire within me. i could feel every inch of him, his muscles tensing under my touch. it was intoxicating, more so than any drink i'd had that night.

our movements grew more frantic, our breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. i wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, feeling the familiar ache of wanting him. he responded with equal fervor, his hands exploring my body with a desperation that matched my own.

"proof you're mine," i said, smiling proudly at the hickeys i had left on his neck.

harry's expression turned sad and panicked.
"we shouldn't have done that," he murmured.
"we're both drunk as fuck."

i rested my head on his shoulder, feeling his arm wrap around my thigh and the other hand settling on my chest ( okay maybe they were sitting on my boobs, but who cares? they're hand warmers. )

i didn't care about anything else; his touch was comforting. with a sigh of contentment i drifted if to sleep, feeling safe in his arms despite the chaos of our situation.

when i woke up the next morning, my head was pounding, and the events of the previous night came rushing back. i was still in harry's arms, his steady breathing a comforting presence. as i looked at his sleeping face, a mix of emotions washed over me. regret, longing, confusion. but one thing was clear-i still loved him, and maybe, just maybe, we could find our way back to each other.

𝐚𝐯𝐚 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐬!

oops...?