Baby Lips

Chapter 13

If there is anything useful my father taught me it is to always have an umbrella. And when I stepped off the train and saw that it was raining buckets of freezing cold rain, this advice came in handy. My boots sloshed and splashed water from the shallow puddles around my feet, normally I would walk home from the station. But since my flat was quite the hike away, I walked to a corner and waiting patiently to hail a cab. 

I couldn’t help but reminisce on the night I had just shared with Zayn. It was even better than how I planned it out in my head the night before. Just how easy it was to talk to him and laugh with him put me at ease. His subtle hints that he wanted to continue our get togethers were also quite reassuring.  

I bit back a smile as I raised my hand at the oncoming taxi. I shook off my black umbrella and quickly slid inside the car while dodging the heavy raindrops. I told the driver my address and sat back in my seat, feeling at ease for the first time in awhile. 

I didn’t have anything to worry about. My stressful paper was done and turned in. I didn’t have class for the next two days. I had just learned how to deactivate the e-mail notification for new mentions and followers on Twitter on the train ride home. And I had just gotten back from a splendid evening with an amazing boy. At this point nothing could take the small smile off my face. 

When the cab stopped I handed the driver the fare and slowly opened my door. I stuck out my umbrella unfolding it and limboing underneath it. I didn’t even know why I tried to avoid the rain, even with my dinky umbrella I was getting soaked. (Author’s Note: Dirty mind... I have one.) 

I began to scurry up the steps to my apartment building when something caught my eye. Something or maybe... someone? I squinted my eyes in the direction of a small pub down the street from my flat. I saw a figure of a man, one who didn’t seem the least bit coherent, arms flailing and a glass of something that I’m guessing wasn’t apple cider. He was yelling something, but I couldn’t make it out. 

His figure got larger as he came closer.  

At this point, I’m not sure why I didn’t latch onto the door and sprint for dear life away from this crazy drunk. I just kept my narrow eyes on him. Trying to make out his face and words. But his words became much more clearer as well as his familiar voice. My shoulders tensed as I noticed his wet curls stuck on his forehead. 

“Oi! Scarlett!” Harry called kicking his red Converse in a puddle and making his way closer to me. “Is that you, love?” His voice slurred. My eyes widened and I hopped down the wet cement steps toward him. My mind was more than confused. Questions on why he was here and who he was with swarmed my mind... I quickly had to remind myself that I shouldn’t care. 

“What are you doing here, Harry?” I shouted up at him. The monstrous raindrops clanged against every building and sidewalk making it a noisy atmosphere. Harry stumbled up to me, taking a large swig of the alcohol in his frosty  mug. 

“I like the way you say my name in that American accent of yours.” He giggled. “Haaarr-eee.” He smiled, mocking my voice and taking another slow slip of beer. I shook my head at his immaturity. 

“Seriously, Har-” I stopped myself from saying his name again as he began to cackle. “Why are you here, in Oxford, on a Saturday night?” Harry looked around, his face changing drastically. Like he was finally aware of his surroundings. 

“Dunno.” He pulled on the collar of his drenched black sweater. “Do you think you could help me figure that out?” I rolled my hazel eyes, completely frustrated with drunk Styles. Harry lazily smiled at me, his dimples slicing his cheeks. He threw his head back as he slurped the last of his drink.