The Boy Next Door || Harry Styles

chapter eight. {melanie}

who can comment the most? M.

My mouth was so dry, it felt like a desert had grown in place of my tongue. And the aftertaste of alcohol in my mouth was enough to make me lean over and puke, but my limbs were too heavy and unresponsive. I could barely open my eyes because of the bright light streaming from the other side of the room. Unfortunately, this wasn't the worst of it. My head felt as if someone was hammering the inside with a mallet and my eyes were stinging with unbelievable pain. I felt disgusting and dirty, but most of all, I felt like I was dying.

"Morning." A coarse voice spoke above me, I didn't have the strength to open my eyes.

"Take this and drink some water. You'll feel better." The man spoke again, gentler than before. The bed caved in and the heat from another body radiated onto me. I groaned loudly before turning my head into the soft pillow. I just wanted to stay in bed all day.

"Come on, Mel." It took a while to register the voice, but when I matched it with a face, I shot up on the bed. My hair was probably in a large knot.

Harry sat across from me with a wide grin plastered on his face and his own curls tangled atop his head. How the hell did I get here?

I scrunched my face up and laid back down. My sudden exertion of energy tired me out and worsened the massive headache that was currently tearing my brain to shreds.

"What happened last night?" I asked, my voice cracking from its dryness.

"You got pissed." I rubbed my eyes and attempted to open them once more. They were reluctantly adjusting to the light.

"What day is it?" I croaked again. I was in an utter state of confusion.

"1st of January, love." Harry laughed and I shot back up in the bed. I had remembered what happened last night, well, at least what happened before I got bloody drunk. He handed me the glass of water and a pain reliever and I took it freely. It was bad enough that I started the new year with a hangover.

"We had one hell of a night," Harry chuckled again. I grimaced and finished the glass of water. As I brought the cup down, I realized I wasn't in my own clothes. I was in Harry's grey joggers!

"Oh, my god! Did we --," I gasped and wondered what immoral things I did last night.

"No! No! We didn't, it's alright." He interrupted and pointed towards the makeshift bed on the floor, "I slept there, we didn't do anything."

A heavy sigh escaped my lips. I had never been so relieved. I didn't want my first time to be when I was completely drunk.

And yes, I am admitting that I am still a virgin at 18 years old.

"I mean, there's nothing wrong with you, Harry - I just didn't want to, I mean, I would love to do it with - it's just that I'm not --," I huffed in frustration. The words were throw up in my mouth and I couldn't formulate a complete sentence.

"No, I understand." He chuckled quietly. I had made the air stiff with awkward tension. After a couple minutes of silence, I shifted my body and swung my feet to the floor.

"Why did you sleep on the floor?" I laughed, grabbing my shoes. I assumed the floor was rather uncomfortable.

"I-I don't know, I just didn't want you --," He began, but I interrupted him, unintentionally.