Olivia's POV.
"What?" I answered bluntly, still keeping my eyes closed and head against the pillow.
"Harry's wasted" the voice on the other end said, breaking into a light-hearted laugh at the end.
"And?"
"And he's asking after you."
I sighed, prising my eyes apart and holding my phone in front of me, squinting at the glaring screen. 5.11 am.
"That's great" I whispered back harshly. "But you can tell him it's 5am and I'm in bed."
"Liiiiiiv" I heard a voice slur in the background, followed by a loud crash.
"What was that?"
"Erm, let's just say, Harry's no longer on his feet" Louis laughed, accompanied by a series of muffled groans; presumably from Harry.
"Oh Christ..." I couldn't help but smirk at the thought of Harry inebriated and collapsed in a heap on the floor. We'd been drunk countless times before, and he was definitely my favourite drunk: loud, inappropriate, and a general mess.
"Fine, tell him I'll be there in 20" I groaned, throwing the duvet from my body and hanging up.
I dragged myself from my warm shelter and darted across the room to my dresser; the cold already pricking my skin with goosebumps. I threw a pair of joggers and a jumper on, before pulling a beanie over my beautifully (not) dishevelled bed hair.
Shivering uncontrollably as I shut the car door behind me, I immediately switched the radio on to relieve the eerie tension of the silent, shadow-cast street.
"Oh, Harry Edward Styles you owe me big time..." I mumbled to myself, watching a wispy mist escape my lips into the cool air.
I pulled up outside the address Louis texted me. Cans and bottles were strewn all over the front garden and pathway up to the open front door; a faint drone of bass thudding from the front room. What I imagine was once raucous and loud, was now a hushed lull of voices- most now presumably passed out or at home. I pranked Louis' number, and kept my eyes fixed into the direction of the door as the dial tone rang in my ear. No sooner than I had hung up, Louis appeared at the door, with a very drunken Harry slumped up against him; swaying to and fro. I laughed at the sight; arm draped over Louis' shoulder, feet refusing to co-operate, head hung low. His t-shirt was covered in a range of wet spillages, and jeans barely covering his grey boxers.
Harry managed to raise his eyes and squint in my direction; a lazy grin quickly plastering his face.
"Jesus, pass him here" I laughed as I stepped out of the car, walking over to them.
Harry immediately stumbled forwards; his arms clasping my waist tightly as his head rolled onto my shoulder.
"Good night then?" I smirked at Louis.
"Yeah" he laughed.
"Guess I'd better get this wreckhead home..."
Harry mumbled something incoherent into my neck as I spoke, struggling to support the entirety of his weight.
"Yeah" Louis agreed. "Laters Liv."
Harry's back slumped against the passenger seat of my car; head rolled back against the head rest.
"I don't feel well" he slurred, running his fingers through the mass of curls draped across his forehead.
"Don't you dare be sick in my car Harry Styles, or you can walk home" I said sternly; although not entirely seriously.
