Double Take [Sequel to Bound]

46. Good Side

this was like 14 pages on Word goddamn.

ALSO.

if you guys haven't read the previous post on this story, please read it! It's basically me asking for you to go and nominate Bound for the Best Harry Fan Fiction category for the 2017 Fan Fiction awards! I've never been nominated, or participated in them, so it'd really mean a lot to me if you guys commented for Bound! Thank you!

Here's the latest chapter!!

P.S.: I love Logan Lerman so much. He's such a cutie pie. I watched Perks of Being a Wallflower last night and just cried bc Logan

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Chapter 46—Good Side

Klara's POV:

I was totally drunk. That much was obvious.

Really, I don't understand why I kept doing this; drinking myself to oblivion to the point where I couldn't tell down from up or put one foot in front of the other. Not to mention, the six inch heels I wore did nothing to help me keep my balance as I stumbled around to gain proper footing, only to fall onto the leather couch lined up under the window of the large living room I was currently in.

Honestly, it had been a stupid decision on my part. Completely ridiculous to the point where I should not be in charge of making my own decisions. But here I was, the room spinning and loud music rendering my deaf as I tried to gain my wits and make sense of my surroundings. I sat on the couch, absentmindedly picking at the threads on my jeans due to the rips in them, as my drunkenly narrowed eyes gazed around the room, trying to recognize any familiar face.

But I couldn't, because this damn party was some university one I had managed to get roped into going to by a couple of classmates. None of my friends were here, actually, so as I sat on the couch, after seemingly drinking double my bodyweight and throwing up twice in the bathroom, I yearned to just go home and sleep. Although, the throwing up had helped me sober up a little, and it was God's luck that when I was drunk, I wasn't a loud one. If anything, there were times that when I got drunk I had more common sense than I did when I was sober—sad, I know—along with the face that although I was under a drunken haze, I was perfectly aware of my actions, and I think tonight was one of those nights. The only way I knew I was drunk was because of the buzz I felt in my head and the stench of alcohol in my breath.

However, I knew that my parents would absolutely murder me if they saw me like this. My drunken self didn't want to think any more of that—not that I was capable of doing so, anyway—and I let out an aggravated groan as I pulled out my phone from the pocket of my jeans. My brows furrowed as I tried to unlock my phone, my fingers feeling like jelly as I tried to dial a number. It took a couple of tries, but I finally got it right as I put the phone next to my ear, hoping I'd be able to hear over the loud music.

Grunting, I kept the phone next to my ear as it connected the call, pressing my palm on my other ear in a feeble attempt to block out the obnoxiously loud music. As if that was going to do anything, but common sense wasn't something that existed in my state of mind at the moment. My chest felt heavy and the smell of alcohol was suddenly starting to get too much.

Suddenly, the line picked up as a familiar voice sounded, "Hello? Klara, is that you?"

"H-Hey, babe," I hiccupped, squeezing my eyes shut as I leaned back on the couch. "Did I wake you?"