Party Girl (Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson)

i.

Today was one of the first days of the cycle that I call my life. It goes like this: today where I swore I would never have a single drink again. Then only a few days later, would I go out with my borderline alcoholic friends that need to do something with their life besides party and drink our feelings away. The next morning, I’d wake up in a stranger’s bed or bath tub (a long story that I just don’t feel like taking the time to explain). Once again the cycle would repeat itself just like it has been for nearly five years. 

There was only a slight difference in this morning, and normal people would actually be relieved. I woke up in my own bed, while my barely there curtains did not block the bright sun and gave me the worst headache ever. 

I could hardly remember a thing from last night. All that entered my mind was when Cathrine, one of my best mates (probably the craziest of the bunch) pointed out the gorgeous boy with hair that looked like it needed to be cut and at least brushed. I wasn’t sure if I went home with him and came back, we had a quickie in the club bathroom, or he was just gay because let’s face it, I, Dara Fitzpatrick, would not just let a looker like the one I saw last night get away from me without getting up close and personal. 

I turned my body over on my bed. I was now laying on my stomach with my hair sprawled all over my pillow, my legs tangled beneath the covers and I was almost positive I was naked. I was now closer to the nightstand sitting next to my bed (let’s be honest here for a second and say that my ‘bed’ was pretty much a mattress and a box spring and the night stand was one of those tables that people used when they ate their tv dinners).There laid my precious iPhone 5S (which I just so happened to name Sheila), the only thing my parents have paid for since I graduated high school. 

When I entered my passcode (one two two zero) I had about 30 texts from a group chat with my stupid friends probably talking about how drunk everyone got and the stupid shit we did because of that. 

I angrily threw my phone against my bed. I threw it way too hard and before I knew it, Sheila landed on my hardwood floor that hadn’t been cleaned since last Christmas when my parents visited. 

When I finally decided it was time to get back to bed (I could tell it had been way too long of a night and that I needed to sleep the afternoon away), my roommates (or shall I say some of my borderline alcoholic friends)  decided it was time to wake the whole house up to get some food and coffee. 

I lived with five of my friends (3 boys and 2 other girls) all of which were struggling to keep a steady job and were considered huge disappointments according to their parents. I just laughed whenever my wealthy, uptight, ‘work no play’ parents: Michael and Brenda Fitzpatrick. 

“Fitz, you better wake the fuck up before I tell the guy you’re sleeping next to that the shit stain in the toilet is yours” one of my mates Adair screamed from what I guessed would have been the living room. We went to high school together, the best of mates, until we threw a house party while my parents went to visit my now rich and successful brother Christofer in college. They came home a lot earlier than planned, and banned Adair from ever coming over again (Let’s just say the had a rather large fit when they found out I was living with him). 

“There’s no one in my bed you git!” I yelled back wincing at the loud noise that made my hangover about ten thousands time worse than it already was. 

I heard five uncoordinated gasps come from the living room. It wasn’t like it was a complete shock that someone didn’t sleep in my bed. It wasn’t like I was a slut or anything, I just became a different person when I had alcohol. Plus, “Dara’s fuck list written by Adair Munich and Gabriella Hunting” was only up to eleven the last time I checked.