Good Intentions| Editing

Seven

-edited-

Mr. Frederick let me go home after lunch. Throughout the rest of the meal, Harry was being bitchy. He wouldn't look my way at all and wouldn't even touch me like he did before. Somehow, he ate his food angrily. I never knew people could eat angrily until watching him. Got what he deserved. Tease.

Plopping down on my couch and opening my copy of Jane Eyre to read, I find myself wondering about Harry. What was up with this daddy kink? I've heard about it before, but never met someone who had one. I have watch 50 Shades, so I knew stuff like this was more common then it seemed. Why was he always angry? I mean some people were just angry, I get that. But Harry gives off a vibe that he had all this pent- up emotion that he kept in the darkest places of his soul. Not to mention that he payed my rent. What the hell does that mean?

Unable to read, I put my book down and pull a blanket over myself. My head was spinning from not being able to answer my questions. Sitting here wasn't doing anything to calm my thoughts. Fuck this shit. I need a night out.

I go to my closet and throw on my party dress. It was a wine colored and hit mid thigh with a sweetheart neckline. I put on some heels, brush my hair out and put on my eyeliner. When happy with my appearance, I grab my purse and leave my apartment.

Pulling up to the closest club I can find, I fluff my hair and check my appearance one last time. The building was packed with people who were dancing, drunk, and probably filled with disease. I sit down at the bar to get away from the crowd and order myself a glass of ice water. I wasn't ready for alcohol yet and I didn't want to get trashed right away. I was going to pace myself.

An upbeat song floats through the room, and makes its way to me. Grabbing my water, I get up to dance, but because of all the people, I get crushed by a man about my size. My drink spills over my dress and I begin to complicate my life choices. Why did I even come here? My whole front was wet, but at least it didn't look like I pissed myself. 

"Ah shit, I spilled vodka all over your shirt. I'm sorry." A man says with an accent I recognize as Irish. He nervously laughs when I glare at him. He was wearing some random band tee shirt and his hair was quiffed up in front. He was cute, but he was too boyish. I wanted a man. Like Harry.

"It's fine. It's just water." I run my hands through my hair. Grabbing my purse, I push past the man and head for the doors. It was a mistake coming here. I would've been better sitting at home and wallowing in my loneliness. 

"Are you sure?" says Irish following me. He grabs my arm and turns me to face him. "Maybe I could make up for it by buying you a drink?"

Should I? This night has been terrible already. I went out to get away from my thoughts about Harry, yet all I could think about was him. Clearly this wasn't working. I should just go home, get some sleep and go to work tomorrow like the average person.  But a drink does sound good. 

Oh, what the hell.

"Sure. A shot of Vodka might do it."

Irish smiles at me and leads me to the bar. He orders my drink while I stand there looking at the bodies in the club. Some were grinding against each other while others were throwing back their drinks. I feel my purse buzz from my phone, but I ignore it and continue people watching. Irish soon returns and gives me my drink saying, "I'm Niall. Here's to crazy nights." He toasts and throws his glass back.

"Arabella. Here, here." I say and chug down. 

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Before I know it one drink leads to two, and two drinks leads to three. By my fourth one, my vision is starting to blur and I know I'm plastered. Niall and I grind against each other to the beat of the music and the blonde-haired Irishmen keeps the drinks coming. Now this is fun.

Knowing I have work tomorrow, I decide to call it a night. My feet hurt and I probably wouldn't remember a damn thing that happened tonight in the morning. "Niall, I th-think I'm gonna head o-out. Thanks for the drinks," I say stumbling with my words from my drunken state.

"No problem, sweet cheeks," He says laughing at a girl so drunk she pulled her skirt down.

Stumbling out of the club, I realize I have no way to get home. Deciding to call a cab, I pull out my wallet. Only to find it empty. I didn't carry and cards with me to the club, only cash because of thieves. There was no money in my wallet. The only option as to drive home. No Arabella, you are not driving home dumb fuck.

I pull out my phone finding five missed calls from an unknown number and a voicemail. I open the voicemail and listen.

"Arabella Kirking," it said. Oh fuck. It was Harry and he did not sound happy. "You're not at your apartment, or work, and you're not answering your phone. Where the fuck are you? I expect an answer or I'll have no choice but to file a missing person report. You will be punished for this." With that, he hung up.

Staring at the phone wondering why the number was unknown even though I had his number, I contemplate calling him back or not. He said he would punish me. I didn't like the sound of that. But I was still horribly drunk, and was in desperate need of a ride. I wouldn't risk killing myself or someone else in a car accident. There's no other way.

Stumbling with my phone, I dial his number, biting my lip out of nerves.

"It's about damn time. What the fuck Arabella?" He answers half shouting.

"I-I... I kinda n-need your help." I twirl with my fingers, trying to figure out how mad he would be. 

Immediately his voice softens. "Where are you?"

I tell him the address and await in my car turning the heater on. Was calling him really the best thing, I ask myself. I mean, Niall could've taken me home. Ten minutes pass and I feel my stomach start feeling unsteady. Quickly, I run out of my car and puke the contents of my stomach out. I jump from a hand being placed on my back and look up to see Harry. Well, actually two Harrys. I'm screwed.

"Let's get you home Arabella," He offers while helping me stand. I falter in his grip, and lean on him for support. "Jeez, how drunk are you?" he asks incredulously with a roll of his eyes.

Before I answer, he picks me up and takes me to a sleek Mercedes. He buckles me in and while doing so I play with his curls. His hair was so pretty and lively. Harry looked awfully handsome tonight in a flannel, skinny jeans, and his custom, brown boots. 

I was pretty surprised he hadn't asked any questions on why I was off my ass drunk yet. Knowing that I would get punished for my actions tonight, I gently pull his hair as payback for his future actions. He gives me an odd look but I feel my eyes shutting. "Don't pass out on me, Arabella."

"I'm not. I'm just resting my eyes," I say in response trying to get comfy in the leather seat.

Harry pulls out of the parking lot and starts driving back to my apartment. His right hand is placed in my leg, the rings making me jump from their coldness.

"Resting my eyes, my ass." He says before I let my drunken slumber take over.

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Emma