runaways || h.s

four;

Lola's eyes snapped open, only having to be shut again due to the sunlight coming in through the curtains. A body stirred beside her, their arm slung across her bare stomach and their head buried in her hair. Her head hurt and her lips were dry and cracking. She caught sight of the time on a clock beside the bed; 1:23.

"Shit," she mumbled, trying to get the arm that was clinging to her off so she could remove herself from the bed.

"Stop moving, Lola," James mumbled, using the arm that was already around her to pull her back down onto the bed and continued to pull her so their naked bodies were against each other and warm. "Go back to sleep or something."

"James, for Christ sake, it's half past one and Harry doesn't even know where I am," she urged, James' arm sliding from her body allowing her to get up from the warm bed. "He's probably worried sick."

"The douchebag who didn't seem to give a fuck where you were last night? That Harry?" James suddenly said, his voice sounding much livelier. She turned and saw he was sitting up in the bed, propped up on his elbow, and watching her scramble around the room for her clothes.

Lola took a breath and said, "Yeah, that Harry," with a heavy sigh.

She found the remaining of her clothes, all expect her favorite pair of underwear, without any of James' comments and she figured he fell back asleep. But just as she was about to slip out of the room, James seemed suddenly awake again and said, "You're not going to kiss me good bye? Maybe even a quick shag?"

Lola stepped over to the bed and pressed a small kiss to his lips, but as she was about to pull away, his hand found the back of her head and pushed her lips back down onto his, his mouth still tasting of liquor and weed. When he pulled away he licked his lips and mumbled something about ringing her later before his head fell back into the sea of pillows.

"Harry?" Lola called out as she opened the door to their apartment, sliding in through the small crack, and closing it silently behind her. She figured he was somewhere passed out and sleeping off a hangover, but when he stepped in front of her, his chest bare and his bottom half only adorning a pair of gray joggers, he looked anything but.

"Where the hell have you been?" He asked, his voice sounding much angrier and louder than she was used too, and her headache didn't much appreciate it.

"I could be asking you the same thing," she said, pressing a finger to his chest with a playful manner in attempt to lighten the mood a bit.

"Yeah, well I came home, did I not?" Harry pressed, looking Lola up and down, noticing she was wearing the same clothing from the club and her makeup was all but perfect, the black smearing on her eyelid and below her eye, and her hair was disheveled, even if it was pulled up into a bun.

"You're not my mother, Harry," she said, turning to walk around him but he slid into her path, blocking her in the small hallway leaving her with nowhere to go.

"But I was worried about you."

"You didn't seem to be last night when you left me at the club." Before she even had time to stop what she was saying, the words left her mouth, leaving herself wide eyed and lips parted, ready to say something else to counteract the words, but nothing else came out.

"You didn't come home because I left with Nic?" Harry almost laughed, leaving a part of Lola hurt and confused. "Louis and Zayn offered you a ride, did they not?"

"Yes, Harry, your brand new friends offered me a ride home after you disappeared on me without giving me an explanation, let alone tell me that you were even fucking leaving!" She yelled, her face burning red and her hands balled into fists.