Fighting talk // n.h.

4. Cocktails

Nick was far from happy when I returned to my apartment. I found his slouched body on the sofa watching some old American sitcom on the TV. Purposely not greeting me as I walked through the door in regards to his anger. He wouldn't let it go that I had no say in my attendance to this party, accusing me of picking my work over him.

"And what makes it worse is that it's not really work is it? Just an excuse to go out and get drunk," he spat from his seated position, his back still facing me.

"Nick, you know it's out of my control, my hands are tied," I pleaded as my hands rested on the back of the chair.

He didn't reply, telling me silently that he had nothing more to say.

"I'm going to get ready," I sighed in defeat. "You are welcome to come along, it is the last chance we have to spend together,".

Once in my room, I released a groan of frustration. I loved Nick, I really did, but sometimes he was just so difficult with things. Pushing it to the back of my mind, I walked over to my wardrobe and started looking for something to wear. Only just realising I had no clue where we were actually going, just that Louis was going to pick me up at eight pm. Quickly deciding on a pair of black, high waist, skinny jeans, a floaty white cami top and my black, point toe heels.

I was feeling a little sour towards the whole thing. I mean, if it wasn't for this impulse event then Nick would be happy with me and not currently sulking in my front room. Therefore it seems only fair to put the blame on the party. And Niall, obviously. The whole thing is for him so it was his fault.

The sourness evident in my mood was telling me not to make an effort with my hair or make up and I almost complied. So close to leaving with my hair up in the same ponytail I had put in this morning and a bare face. But as I was getting changed into my cami and jeans, I caught a quick glimpse at my reflection, immediately feeling self conscious. If my outfit was going to look sluggish then I had to at least be presentable from the neck upwards.

Lazily, I applied dark eye shadow and mascara trying to bring out the green greens but my lack of skill made my vision near impossible to achieve. After concealing, adding blush and then bronzer, I took my hair out of the bobble and straightened it. The finish product was subtle and a little messy which made me hope the club would be dark so people wouldn't be able to see.

Eight pm came quicker than expected. Louis arrived a few minutes late, sending me a text telling me to come down to his car out front. Cautiously, I made my way to the living area. Preparing myself for a snarky comment from Nick. The only sound in the room was my heels as I walked to where my jacket lay on the coat rack beside the door.

"I'm heading off, it's not to late too come," feeling guilty for letting him down.

"How are you getting there?" He asked me as he turned his gaze off the TV screen to me.

"Louis' here to pick me up,"

"Louis?" I tried to work out if this was a rhetorical question or not. "Will Harry be there too?" He added.

"Yes, he's waiting in the car too,"

"I'll meet you there then, text me the address," his tone hard like his eyes.

He brushed past me on his way to get changed but not without stopping and adding:

"Is that what you're wearing?" with a frown as he looked at my clothes.

"Yes why?" My voice coming out sheepishly, wrapping an arm around my waist.

"Doesn't matter," he muttered and turned back around.