Harry’s POV
“Girl fight!”
Niall perked up considerably, animatedly glancing around to see where the bitchy
brawl was taking place. When unsuccessful he focused back on his beer in
dissatisfaction. The lull in conversation didn’t last long, the vibrant blue
earning inquisitiveness.
“Hey, mate, where’s Bo?” He asked a little perplexed.
I’d left her by the pool with Louis, insisting that he watch out for her while I
was absent. I had hoped the time would give them an opportunity to talk.
However, Louis’ state of intoxication would probably dictate a discussion more
inclined to inform people on the colour of his socks than anything of great
depth. He was even more of a menace than usual when offered a full glass.
Niall continued to stare, impatiently waiting for my answer. His eyebrows were
raised in question, a prompt. It was a push that I neglected until a breathless
male barged into the casual atmosphere. His hair was a mess and the shirt he was
wearing appeared to be buttoned up in an odd order, the remains of a drink spilt
down the front.
“Oi, come on, there’s some girls down the end of the garden going at it!”
The stranger retreated the way he had come, skidding haphazardly over the
laminate flooring and out the double doors into the night.
Fuck.
Surely not, not Bo, she was the least likely person to ever participate in a
fight. It couldn’t be her. But that reassurance didn’t stop me scrabbling up
from the sofa and making a dash for the French doors at the back of the house.
Niall was right behind me, sprinting across the decking and down the steps. The
pool was to the back of the garden, the informer weaving between the small
gatherings of partygoers, a path which we made our route almost as if
tail-gating an emergency service vehicle.
“Bo!”
My heart plummeted as I identified the hard, protective stance Bo used to stand
solidly by the side of Hayley. I’d experienced a comparable stature before,
recollecting the time she had sheltered me against a wall when I could barely
stand. A somewhat small but effective blockade preventing my body from receiving
a continued onslaught of violence. She’d practically carried me back to her
house that night. The night that I’d told her about my dad.
As we drew closer, it was plain to see the situation panning out. They were
attracting an increasing crowd of thirsty onlookers, the three girls exchanging
heated words. I was unable to put a name to the third girl, she stood taller but
