Fall to Me || h.s.

Chapter 22

Chapter 22:

     My sweet angel mouse (yes, I did just get done watching a shit ton of Jenna Mourey Marble’s videos so that is why I am referring to all of you as mice), I am sooooo guilt-ridden over the fact that I’ve been slacking. I admit it, ok? No more questions.

      Ha, I feel like Louis at EVERY FUCKING PRESS CONFERENCE. You know? Cause he’s always all like “No more questions, please,” whenever someone tries to…ugh, you know what I mean…right?

      After 2 just makes me want to curl up into the fetal position and cry because I don’t have that bitch Tessa’s life. Like I can’t.

      Oh, for the love of Jesus, just read. <3

      Even though I had wanted Harry to move on, it still hurt to see how quickly this had happened. It didn’t help that he was looking the best I’d ever seen him, in a sleek black sports coat, with a plain white tee underneath. I looked down at myself, suddenly feeling embarrassed that I was wearing my ex-boyfriend’s shirt. Especially since Corey was here with him.

      But from the way Harry was looking at me, I could tell he’d recognized what I was wearing as his shirt.

      Mom was still asking too many questions, and almost literally begging me to explain why I was all of a sudden so flustered. I sidestepped my mother, and hurried in the opposite direction of Harry, in search of a glass of champagne. I felt the urge to take a few calming drags of a cigarette, but I hadn’t brought even one, and my flat was an hour away.

      A server offered me a flute, and I gladly accepted the alcohol. I threw back the entire glass as if it were a shot, and immediately reached for another. A few drops spilled onto Harry’s tee shirt, but I didn’t care anymore. I finished my second flute, and grabbed two more from the tray. Getting bitch-faced was the only thing that could help solve all of my problems right then.           

      I didn’t notice at first, but I had been absent-mindedly following one particular server around the room, grabbing for more and more champagne after I’d finished the flute currently in hand. Before I knew it, I had crossed into the danger zone; Harry stood with Corey only a few yards away, clutching a sleeping Darcy to his chest.

      I felt tipsy. How much champagne had I had? My mind was too frazzled to come up with the answer, but I knew it had too have been way more than acceptable for someone who drove herself. I wasn’t yet completely hammered, but I had a fine buzz going, and I had barely been at the party for twenty minutes.

      When I snuck another peek over to where I’d last seen Harry and the entire Wesley family, there were no curls in sight. Corey was now holding Darcy, and looking extremely annoyed at something, or possibly someone. I didn’t comprehend who she was glaring at, until someone grasped my elbow, and tugged me outside of the tent.

      “What are you doing here?” Harry demanded, releasing my elbow.

      “Nope. That line is reserved for me, as this is my brother’s graduation party.” I didn’t want to be arguing, but he was making it awfully hard not to.

      Harry raked a hand through his mop of curls, and blew out an angry breath. “I wouldn’t have ever guessed you’d show to something hosted by your mother. I didn’t think--”

      “You didn’t think about how much it’d hurt me to see you here. And not only that, but already all moved on to Corey? Believe it or not, Harry, this is actually breaking my heart, and it’s getting insanely hard to breathe.” My voice was getting high and panicky. I tried to calm myself with a few yoga fire breaths, but nothing was working.