cherish the moments ☠ styles {completed}

CHAPTER 11

Before I realise where I am going, I remember the familiar street I am on. I have been walking for a while now and I probably look like a dumpster. One of my heels is broken, my hair is disheveled and my dress is crooked. I don’t feel my thighs anymore since it is cold outside and being in a dress doesn’t help.

I enter the familiar building and clumsily make my way up to the second floor. I stop in front of a known door and start pounding both of my fists on them along with one of my feet.

“Harry, open the door!” I chant continuing to make the loud noise.

I hope he is here. I haven’t seen him at the party and I think Theo mentioned that there weren’t any other parties on campus tonight. Ugh, maybe he’s with that bitch.

I continue to stomp my fists and feet against the door until a sleepy Harry opens the door.

“Lucy,” he whispers rubbing his eyes, “What are you doing here?”

“I’m glad to see you too!” I exclaim loudly.

“Are you drunk?” he asks.

“No, I’ve just had a couple drinks.” I say and loose balance, stumbling on my own feet.

“Lucy, go home, you’re drunk.” He sighs.

I frown but suddenly smile again and take in Harry for a hug. I attach my hands together behind his back, squeezing him tighter. I know he is taken aback by my unexpected action since he takes a step backward. But soon he unclasps my hands from around his waist.

“Lucy, you should really go home.”

“I can’t,” I start rocking up and down on my heels.

“Why?”

“I’m drunk, Harry.” I explain and he sighs.

“Why does this feel like déjà vu?” he asks.

I shrug and brush past him, entering his large dorm and let myself fall onto his couch. He shuts the door and walks over to me. He sits down on the coffee table across me and sigh.

“Can you at least take off your broken heels from my sofa, please?”

“Take them off for me, I am too lazy.” I instruct and he grabs one of my legs.

I watch him in awe as he slowly detaches the strap around my ankle and carefully pulling it out of my foot. He sets my heel delicately onto the floor and repeats the same routing with the other foot while I loll on his couch. He sits back in front of me and stares into my eyes.

“Wh-what is it?” I ask him.

He shakes his head, “Nothing; I just really like your eyes.”

He gets up and starts walking away, but something inside of me doesn’t want him to go. Even if I am in his flat, I want him to be beside me. Maybe it’s only the alcohol making that effect on me. But either way, I didn’t want him to walk away.

“Harry?” I call before he can get very far.

“Yes?” he turns around and approaches me a little.

“Can I, um, tell you something?”

“Sure,” he says and goes to sit on the coffee table but I scoot over and he sits next to me. “What is it?”

Wait, what is actually wrong with me? I am really drunk if I tell him this. I have only known him for about two weeks, yet, I feel like I can tell him anything. I don’t know why, again, it might be the alcohol.

I swallow nervously, “My, um, my parents died in a car accident.” I gush.

He shifts in his seat uncomfortably and looks at me. “I’m so sorry,” he frowns, “Have it been a long time?”