Again

Chapter 11: Harry

I unlock the door to my tiny apartment and throw my keys on the counter. Calling this an apartment is a stretch I think, it's more like a room with a bathroom attached. There isn't even a separation between my bedroom and the kitchen; the kitchen is basically a corner of my bedroom, which is probably against the law and a bit unsanitary, but this is New York City.

It doesn't really bother me, after all I live alone, and I didn't come here to live in luxury; I came here to open my shop. This is the best I could afford on what I have left after all the expenses for the business. If Liam hadn't agreed to be my partner I would have had to live in the office at Cilly Hazzard's.

Besides, I only have a year to live like this because -true to my idiotic form-I gave my father my word that if I couldn't make the shop financially solvent in a year I would enroll in university. But of course it couldn't just be any university, it had to be his Alma Mater; Cambridge. Trying to imagine mysel, all tattoos and short fuse, walking amongst the most elite and often times royal pedigrees that make up the student body of Cambridge sends shivers of absolute terror down my spine. But I gave him my word: he'd let me give this a go for a full year, and if I could make it happen, he wouldn't mention Cambridge again.

I stripped down to my boxers and crawled into the soft cotton sheets of my bed, smiling to myself once again for being clever enough to sneak a few sets of the luxury linens from home into my suitcase before I left.

I shut my eyes and exhaustion mercifully overtakes me. My sleep is black, no dreams fill my head, I'm too tired for that.

The incredibly annoying blare of my ringtone wakes me, and as I look around, confused by the light of the lamp I'd forgotten to turn off, I lift it from my nightstand and slide to answer the call without bothering to see who it's from.

"'Ello?"

I mumble, my voice hoarse and heavy with sleep as I roll over onto my back.

"H-Harold? Is that you?"

She's speaking even more softly than usual, but the tone of her voice and the pattern of her speech wake me immediately from my sleepy state.

"Cecilia? What happened?"

"I just went out. Louis wanted to take me out, so I just went out." She whispers into the phone. "Don't tell Harry, okay...he won't like it. Promise Harold? That you won't tell Harry?!"

I sigh my exasperation; she sounds incredibly drunk.

"Cilly,"

"Oh, no! Haz, I told him not to tell you. Harold is a tattle tale...I'll never speak to him again...Could you ask him to come get me?"

"Cilly, baby, where are you? I'll come."

"Ok, but no, because I just wanted Harold to come get me, because he understands..."

"Cilly, I am Harold. I'm only one person."

I shake my head and sigh again as I begin to worry. She speaks even more quietly.

"I just wanted to go home now because... its not really right to be here, but Louis said he wouldn't take me home 'cause he wasn't ready to ....go, and I can't walk cause its too far and I'm too drunk. My arm hurts...I think it hurts...it's bleeding."

Her words slur and her voice trails off mid sentence. I hop out of the bed and grab my pants off the floor, pulling them on as I speak.

She's in a strange place and she's bleeding. My head feels like it's going to explode.

"Cecilia."

"Hmmmm?"

"CECILIA!" I yell into the phone, she mutters some unintelligible nonsense . "Tell Me Where You Are Right Now!"