Shelter (A Harry Styles Fanfic)

SIX (6)

All I can think about is go back there and yell at Harry for his stupid idea of hosting a party tonight. I know how pathetic I sound that's why I decide to go inside of the house and forget about the actual situation. I don't know what I am doing, but I certainly don't want to wait all the night in my frozen car, and in addition, I don't want to let him win, it's too easy for him if I just go and say nothing. I take all the courage I have inside of me and go ask someone for a drink. I shouldn't be doing that I remind myself but, just for one night it can't be that bad.

"Can I have a drink?" I ask the first person I met.

"What?" He answers me with a bright smile. I can see his blond hair under the red cap. He looks good. Actually, he looks more than good.

"A drink. Can I have one please?" I repeat.

"Sure." He smiles, "But we only have beer."

"Beer will be good" I politely answer him before he hands me the brown bottle.

I used to drink this thing too much. I shouldn't drink anymore. I know what it does to people, nothing good I can tell.

"What are you doing?" The same blond haired guy asks me, at the moment I decided to put it back on the table. Stopping all my movements.

"Hum... I just... Changed my mind?" I hesitate.

"No... No changing mind here. C'mon girl, loose yourself! You're not forty, are you?" He laughs.

What? Of course I'm not forty, why would I be here if I was forty? I hear his beautiful laughter in the background of my thoughts. He is kind of... cute?

Time passes by and the moment where I can't count how many beers I had has now arrived. I think I've been talking for like one or two hours with my new fellow. I sort of like him now. He's funny. He told me he is from Ireland so I guess Harry is from there too since their accent are quite similar. Speaking of him, I don't know where he has been all the time I was talking to that blond guy, but I don't really care, I am having fun now and that's the only thing important. Right?

"By the way, I'm Niall." He interrupts my reflections.

"It was time you tell me your name!" I practically yell, "I'm..." I have a little trouble speaking because of all the alcohol in my veins. What a chance that this boy, I mean Niall, is by my side to keep me on my feet, even though he's probably as drunk as I am.

"Isabella." Harry arrives behind my back, doing the same thing Niall was doing seconds ago.

What a coincidence. I'm pretty sure he wasn't telling Niall my name. He was just saying it because he wanted me to know he was there. Not sure yet.

"What did you drink to be this drunk?" He asks me.

What?

"Don't know..." was all I could say. My head is heavy and my eyes sting.

"Come here, sit down before you fall on the floor." He gently says.

Minutes passes and nobody has say something yet.

"Harry, you're so beautiful." I can't stop my words. After a few seconds, when I realised what I just said, my hand move direclty to my mouth. I want to hit myself.

Harry doesn't answer. I hope he heard nothing.

I can't control my body anymore. I don't know if that's because of the alcohol in me, or the fact that I am just too close to that Harry guy. Whatever is the reason, the fact is that my hands move in sync from my knees to his hair.

I want to stop myself but I can't. This feels so foreign and normal at the same time. I felt the same not a long time ago. I don't know what he keeps giving me but tomorrow, when I'll feel better he will regret it. Two consecutives days. I don't know if I 'll survive. Of course I will, I remind myself, I did worse in the past.

"You gave me, the same shit, did you?" I stutter.

"What?" He seems somewhere else, "I already told you I gave nothing to you yesterday. And stop fucking cursing ok."

"Today?" I asks ignoring what he just told me. Maybe he hadn't yesterday, but that won't stop him from doing it today.

"No, shit no. Stop it, would you?" He looks annoyed. Oops.

"Did I told you Harry? You are beautiful." I repeat. This time, my words don't have an effect on me, it feels like it's ok for me to tell him what I am thinking.

"No I am not Isabella."

"Don't call me Isabella."

"Why?"

"I hate it."

"I'll call you how the fuck I want is that clear?"

"You can call me Isabella Styles?" I can't believe I am saying this even though I am drunk.

"Won't happen."

"But I am your wife, I'm supposed to take your last name." I persist.

"Did someone gave you something?" He changes the subject.

"Don't know, I though it was you..." I admit.

"Never." He says, I won't admit it, but in the bottom of my heart, I felt somewhat happy that he'll never do this. But who knows, maybe he can, maybe he's just saying that so I don't think it's him. Honeslty, I can't be sure of anything in this state. I can't even feel my arms and legs. "I can't believe someone brought this shit in my house. If I find who it is I'll kill him."

"You'll kill someone for me?" I can't hepl but ask.

"That's not for you, don't think I act all friendly and things. I just hate this shit it's fucking dangerous and I don't want this in the house. End of the discussion."

"Oh..." I answer a little disapointed. "I think it's pure shit too."

"How many fucking time would I have to tell you not to use bad words with me?"

"But shit doesn't count as a bad words! Plus, you just said fucking." I sound like a children who just got punish by his mother. I don't really apreciate the image of me being the kid and him the adult.

(hey EVERYONE! I was so excited to post this chapter bc Harry is really present and Niall too. I hope you like how the story has gone so far, if you have any ideas, tell me!)