Sympathy for the Devil | harry styles

Chapter 8

HEY GUYSSS! I'm really sorry that I have not been posting for sooooo long! I've very busy! Life in New York is really hard guys! Sorry <3

Warning: Contains mature content. Don't read if you're uncomfortable with it.

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  "Yes Lily, I'm alright," Angela giggled, swaying on her feet, back and forth. The air outside was cold and comfortable, causing her to throw her head back and let the wind dry the sweat on her forehead and neck.

"I was with Erin after school, and she wants me to sleep at hers."

Lily huffed and Angela could tell that she was worried, "Fine then. Call me before you go to school tomorrow."

"Okay, bye!" Angela giggled again, drunk because she had been drinking beer rather than wine. She shouldn't have been mixing alcohol, but as everyone said, you only live once. It was the worst thing she had ever told herself, because now she was suffering and her brain was swimming in the alcohol.

Harry chuckled and caught her by her forearm. Angela's head rested against his massive shoulder with closed eyes as he walked with her inside the flat to his apartment. She giggled as he tried to unlock the door with one hand, stumbling in, with her almost tripping over her own feet.

"Alright, let's get you sober," Harry smiled and kicked off his brown boots, helping her to walk to the kitchen. He placed her on the chair and knelt down, taking off her boots and moving them under the table so she wouldn't trip over them if she tried to walk. Her eyes were glossy and the look in them was dreamy, lips sticky and pink, hair messy and lightly wet, curling under control. He smiled at the sight in front of him; she was so innocent and so drunk.

Her left hand was gripping the chair and the other one was working on the zipper of her jacket, pulling it down and unzipping the material. She moved her shoulders, shrugging and letting the jacket fall down, pulling her arms out of the baggy sleeves.

She couldn't explain how she felt. It was as if she was weightless, yet she was scared to stand up because the cupboards in the kitchen were magically moving side to side, and Harry's eyes were even more mesmerizing. She wanted to laugh, dance, cry, apologize for the things she had done and regretted afterwards. Pathetically, she thought about jumping up from the chair even in her current state, wrapping her arms around his neck and bringing their lips together. What would he say? He would probably push her away since she was so crazy tonight.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed even when the tears weren't there. Her eyes were dry.

Harry frowned quizzically and looked at her over his left shoulder, pouring cold water in the glass for her.

"For what?" Harry was confused, she hadn't done anything. Nothing what she would regret, anyway.

"For getting drunk. For embarrassing you. For running away from you. For thinking that you are sick and..." she sighed deeply, "horrible."

There. The words were spoken, and her heart was finally free from the heavy stone. Sighing again, she played with her fingers on her lap, scratching the denim on her thighs with her fingernails, up and down, trying to distract herself. Maybe it wasn't a smart move. She felt so stupid.

"Nothing new for me," Harry grumbled and turned his head to the glass of water on the cupboard, taking it in his big hand and walking towards Angela. "Drink this, you'll feel better."

She murmured a small thank you and took a sip of her water. It felt so good and refreshing, so one sip turned into more until she drank the whole glass of water.