Bet On It | H. Styles

xxviii

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I've never wanted to cry, scream, run, hide, or die more than I wanted to now. Maybe death was a little extreme, but it certainly fitted my mood for right now.

Patty chugged down her wine glass, pacing across the kitchen as if this was her problem. It wasn't. It was mine. And I didn't want to deal with it.

Harry was standing still at the door to block the unwanted visitor from stepping within the threshold, a scornful look on his face.

And I, well, I was stood still in complete shock in the middle of the foyer, not knowing what to do with myself.

I was mad. Beyond mad. If I wanted to, I would stomp right over and make myself very clear that I was pissed off and I was not one to mess with right now. But what I really wanted was to run away and hide in a corner.

I knew that that wasn't really an option however. Sadly enough, I had to face my demons today.

Now standing beside Harry, I too had a menacing look on my face. Although, I knew my scary face was nothing compared to Harry's.

"I'll ask you one more time. What the fuck are you doing here?" Harry hissed. If steam could, it would be flying out of his ears by now.

"And I told you, I don't have to answer to you."

"Who can you answer to then, huh? God?"

"Funny. But, try the woman next to you, perhaps," he spat back.

"And she'll just ask you the same fucking thing, so just rip the bandaid off and get on with it," Harry was nearly yelling by this point. I put my hand on his shoulder, gently pushing him behind me to ensure he doesn't pop an aneurism in the middle of the doorway.

"Alright boys, it seems your letting all of the rain in and all of the hotter air, so I suggest you both back off before I kick you both out," I smiled at the two gentleman.

"You heard her prick, move aside so I can come in."

"I swear to–" Harry nearly lunged before I stepped in pushing him back now by the chest and further into the house. I gave him a knowing look, telling him to calm down before things take a turn for the worse.

Harry looked behind me one last time, shaking his head in what seemed to be disgust and disappointment before stomping his way over to the stairs and to where I assume to be his room. I let out a sigh, already missing the comfortable peace me and Harry were in for the nearly the first time in our lives without wanting to chop each other's heads off.

Turning around, crossing my arms across my chest, I gave an angry look again, only this time I knew it was more threatening.

"Kenny, what the fuck are you doing here," I seethed between clenched teeth. He was taking off his muddy shoes and placing his jacket on the coat rack while I fumed, waiting for an answer.

After me just giving him a death stare for what felt like forever, he finally caved. "Uh, you're the one that told me to come here."

My eyes widened, my eyebrows rose, my hands dropped to my side. I was utterly confused and in shock. "Excuse me?"

"Saturday night. You called me. Said you missed me and wanted me to come to Malibu. So I came," he waved his hands about, like everything was so obvious.

"No, I didn't," I laughed, shuffling backwards and making my way back towards the kitchen. I needed that wine now too.

"Yes, you did," he continued. I heard him walk behind me, the sound of his wet jeans dragging across my floor. Where was Jenny or Diana when you needed them?