Was it All an Accident? (A Harry Styles Fan Fiction, Book Three)

Part Twenty-Four: Is That Whytnie?

(Harry’s POV)

“Are you sure you don’t want a drink?” Louis asked, holding his own up. Caleb was already so drunk he was starting to hit on the couch he’s sitting on. I roll my eyes and lean back in my chair, watching the mess unravel around me. How is this fun? Oh, gosh, I remember when I used to think this was fun. It’s not anymore. It’s because of her. She’s not here. I miss her. It’s funny; I never would’ve thought I’d be like this: always relying on her to be there for me. But I do.

            And it makes me wonder what she’s doing right now. I hope nothing too crazy, or crazy at all. I know it’s our last night being “single” even though we’re both not. It’s strange and I didn’t even want to have a bachelor party. I’m supposed to be having fun. I should. Whytnie’s probably having a blast with her girls. So why wasn’t I?

            “Yeah,” Caleb was saying, “don’t be a party pooper.” His words were slurred but I knew what he meant. “Come on, you only live once!” Please don’t say “YOLO”. Please don’t say “YOLO”. “YOLO!” Oh, great. He’s extremely drunk that he’s even saying “YOLO”. He hates that phrase and thinks it’s stupid. Now he’s starting to say it? It’s time for me to leave. I give the boys one last long look before excusing myself. I leave unnoticed because they’re preparing to play some drinking games. Rolling my eyes, I leave the room and shut the door as quietly as I can. My hand reaches into my pocket and pulls out my phone as I take the stairs two at a time. Her face appears on the screen as I dial her number.

            Ring. Ring. Ring.

            Why isn’t she answering?

            Ring. Ring. Ring.

            Is she having too much fun to answer me?

            Ring….

            “Hey!” My face brightens and my mood shifts. “I’m Whytnie and I’m not able to answer the phone right now…” My face falls and my mood changes. She’s not answering which means she’s having a blast without me. This is just great.

            All I really want to do now is go home and sleep. I’ll call her first thing in the morning.

[…]

(Emily’s POV)

So drinking isn’t really Whytnie’s forte. I never fully understood why she never drank before. I mean, everyone knows why I don’t drink anymore. But Whytnie? She never drinks around anyone, says she’s done it before, but that it’s just not her thing. Well, now I know. I never should have pressured her into drinking, especially what alcohol does to me. I should’ve known. But it’s her last night being “single” and I thought she should make the most of it. And she did.

            I’m so dead.

            “Whytnie!” I scream out. Everyone else is already as drunk as she is. “You need to leave your shirt on!” I jump up and pull her shirt back down as she fights me to take it off. “Let’s give them something to think about, not show them.” I try to ease her off the counter, which she’s standing on despite the bartender’s complaints. I’m so dead. I’m so dead. If pictures of this ever gets out… I’m so dead. On my gravestone it’ll read: Let her best friend down and died of shame. How could I have done this to her? I needed to take her home, like ASAP. Well, without making her fall down and break something. I’d be even deader if I allowed that to happen.

            “I’m hungry!” Whytnie screamed at me before breaking out into exhausted giggles. She’s starting to look tired and I take that as a good sign.