Rule Number One

Chapter Eighteen- Too Late

It is never too late to be what you might have been.

George Eliot 

Harry's POV-

"Harrehh why did I think it was a good idea to drink so much?" Brooklyn moaned as she tried to stumble her way back up the stairs into her apartment. I laughed as I held onto her to make sure she didn't fall and break something. "Are you laughing at me Styles?"

I nodded, "You are drunk of your ass Brooke. Of course I'm laughing, it's hilarious. By the way it would be a lot easier if you took off your heels so you could walk up the stairs."

She shook her head several times, "As Jenna Marbles always said, 'once you leave your aparment, you are married to your shoes until you get home'." 

I rolled my eyes at her and picked her up bridal style and carried her the rest of the way. She rested her head against my chest, "Mmm you're so strong Harold."

"Thanks," I laughed, "I guess." I reached her apartment and opened the door with the spare key I knew she kept under her rug. "Love, where do you want me to put you?" I asked kind of loud trying to keep her awake.

Her eyes snapped open, "No no no... just put me down."

I looked at her unsure, "Sure thing." I set her down and she stumbled backwards walking towards the kitchen. "Cookie where ya going?"

She started rummaging through the cupboards and finally she turned to face me, "I'm hungry. I'm gonna make a cake."

"Uhh Brooklyn.. maybe it's not the best idea for you to bake right now considering your a bit intoxicated," I told her trying to lead her away from the kitchen.

She groaned clearly frustrated, "I drank just as much as you did! How come you are drunk?"

I shrugged, "Well I am a bit tipsy, I'm just not a light weight like you."

"I'm not a lightweight!" She exclaimed.

"Okay Cookie, whatever you say," I teased her.

She turned her head to face me with a serious look on her face. "Do you want to know a secret?" She whispered. I shivered a bit and nodded feeling the familiar electricity I always felt around her taking place. "I think it's really hot when you call me Cookie. But I won't ever tell you that."

It took all my self control to not kiss her right then and there. When I regained the ability to speak I laughed, "I think you just did, Cookie."

She threw her head back and laughed loudly. "Whoops!" She exclaimed as she shook off my grasp and stumbled back into the kitchen. I walked her as twirled around the kitchen grabbing the cake mix out of a cabinet and slamming it on the counter.

"I really don't think you should be doing that," I noted leaning against the counter smirking.

She turned back around to face me. "I do what I want," She purred seductively. I really liked this drunk side of Brooklyn.

I sighed in defeat, "At least let me help you."

She thrust a big wooden spoon into my hand. "Get mixing Styles. I want this cake to be so good that Martha Stewart herself would cry in joy at the sight of it."

"Yes ma'am," I replied laughing at her drunken state.

It was then that I noticed what she was singing, and I smiled. "And I've just let these little things slip out of my mouth, Cause it's you, Oh, it's you, It's you they add up to and I'm in love with you and all these little things," She sang loudly and off key.