Harry Styles One Shot Collections

Drinking Alone

The sound of your heeled boots hitting the whiskey-drenched floor as you walked into the bar was silenced by the sound of the jukebox playing an old, heartbreak song. Fitting, you thought as you made your way to the bar. The small room was only filled with a few people at that time of the night. It was maybe an hour or so before the last call, so most everyone had already moved on to another or headed on home.

You, however, wanted to go anywhere, but home. The smell of him still lingered throughout the house. His toothbrush was still in its holder next to yours. His favorite orange juice still had enough juice inside for one last glass with his morning breakfast. Pictures of the two of you, happy, were placed in almost every room you walked into.

Despite the fact, he had left you, for someone else, over a week ago, you should have gotten every ounce of him out of your place. But you hadn't had the strength inside of you because deep down you hoped and prayed maybe, just maybe he'd come back.

You sat on top of the round, wooden stool in front of the bar. The five other people that were in the bar were sitting in their own booth or playing darts or pool, except one other person. It was a man with brown curly hair that had fallen in front of his eyes. Tattoos were drawn into the skin of his arm and chest, you assumed as you saw a bit of ink poking through the top of his shirt.

Even in the dimly lit room, you could tell he dealing with something. It's not that you could read people, but the fact he had five empty shot glasses in front of him and motioned for the bartender for another, pretty much said he was going through some shit. The bartender, Mike, from what his tag said, handed you your drink. You twirled the auburn liquid around in the glass as you sighed.

How pathetic was it, you being there in a shit bar, drinking whiskey, alone. While he, your ex, was probably out and about with his new girlfriend. You never thought you'd be that girl, the heartbroken one, who let a man consume her every thought and wish for him to come back. You shouldn't even want him back, especially knowing he not only left you for someone else but had been cheating on you with her for months.

You downed the whiskey from the glass. The familiar feeling of it burning your throat was just what you needed, so you ordered another, and another. You weren't sure if it was the whiskey starting to hit you or if you were just tired of being alone, but you got up and made your way over to the stranger at the other side of the bar.

"Is this seat taken?" You asked, how original, you thought as soon as the words left your lips.

"Besides my empty glasses, no," he said adding another, seven in total.

You sat down at the stool, flagging down Mike and ordering another shot.

"So, what's your story?" He asked.

"My story?" You asked confused.

"Well, there's gotta be a reason you're downing whiskey like it's uh... going out of a style," he hiccuped.

"I could say the same for you," you said motioning to the seven, now, eight glasses.

"Touche," he grumbled.

"My boyfriend cheated on me and left me for her," you sighed.

"What a dick," he said looking over at you.

That was the first time you saw the color of his eyes. They were green, a little hazy and watery as the alcohol was taking effect, but they were still something to get lost in. You shook your head at the thought.

"I've got a similar story... sort of," he sighed. "I just went through a breakup... there wasn't cheating, technically involved, it's just shit didn't work out and now my ex is with someone else, now."

"Hey, Mike, two more," you said.

He brought over two glasses and you handed one to the man next to you.

"A toast to our exes. Fuck them," you said.

He smiled, clinking his glass with yours before you both downed the entire thing in one go. Over the next half hour, you discovered the man's name was Harry and he had just gotten out of a long relationship. Somehow as time went on, you two moved from your stools at the bar and made your way over to a booth in the corner of the bar. You ended up ordering some beers and finding some music to play on the jukebox.

The rest of the night was filled with drunken conversation, dancing, and laughing. You hadn't planned on it and you were sure by now it was definitely all the alcohol running through your veins, but your lips were attached to his. They tasted like a mix of whiskey and beer with a hint of lime. Your hands were in his hair while he was at your waist.

All you could think about at that moment was how you felt in his arms, his lips pressed to yours as his hands ran along your sides. You didn't think of your ex and what he had put you through over the last few weeks and you sure as hell didn't think about what he was doing with her. Even though everything was feeling so right, you knew taking this further with Harry wasn't the right thing to do.

Luckily, Mike made the Last Call announcement, signaling the bar would be closing within the next ten minutes. Harry pulled away from you and you both gazed into the other's eyes. It was then, you realized, maybe, maybe it wasn't a good idea to have approached him because while you knew this should end here, you didn't want it to.

You both were standing outside the bar now. The streets were pretty vacant except for a few cars and people leaving the surrounding bars.

"We shouldn't..." you whispered looking at him, holding your phone in your hand.

"I know," Harry whispered back.

"But I want to," you added.

"Me too," he said.

"Then I guess..." you stated.

"We're doing this," Harry completed.

An Uber driver pulled up to the curb, Harry opened the door. You put your phone back in your purse and climbed into the car before Harry got inside as well.

So, much for drinking alone.