Firewall {One Direction a.u.}

Chapter 8

I wake up in a sort of panic before I realize where I currently am.  Laying in bed, in pajamas. Thank God I got home safely last night but I wish I remembered how.

I groan at the headache that is progressively getting worse but pat myself on the back when I realize I set two Advil on my night stand last night with a glass of water.

Getting up very slowly, I grab my bath towel from its hanging place on the door knob of my room and walk to the bathroom, going through my Snapchat to see what my "friends" were up to.

Every single snapchat was a person at a bar, dancing and singing.  Even my older brother, Charlie, was out at the bar with his dozens of friends.

I put my phone down and get into the lukewarm water.  Sometimes I like to burn my skin but other times I like to use the cold water to wake up, especially after a night of drinking.

As I wash the conditioner out of my hair, my stomach starts to grumble. I need breakfast but I don't think I have anything to eat in my apartment.

After I get out from beneath the water, I dry my body with my towel and put my hair in a pony tail.  I proceed to wrap the towel around my body and walk out to the kitchen.  I yawn as I take a cup out of the cabinet to fill with coffee. I don’t usually like coffee but on a morning when I’m hungover as fuck I need it to wake up.

I turn away from my coffee maker and I see a body on my couch.  Biting my lip, I hold in my scream. Thank God I recognize the person who is on the couch, but why is he here?  My headache is getting worse and the coffee won’t brew fast enough.

I hear a groan come from the couch where Mr. Styles lies.  He’s mumbling something about drinking but I don’t remember him coming last night.  The last memory I have is dancing with Liam and that thought makes me cringe. I was grinding on my direct boss, not a care in the world.

I try not to make my presence in the kitchen known, but unfortunately my boss is too smart.  “Good morning Morgan, you look like shit.” He chuckles at a low volume for both of our sakes.

I rolled my eyes.  “I can say the same for you.”

“Absolutely not.  I look like a God.”

“Good one.”  I respond sarcastically.

He laughs at my response and I wince a little, the volume upsetting my already bad headache.  I goran and give him a look that tells him to stop. “In my defense, I told you to stop drinking but you wouldn’t listen.”

I scoff.  “I don’t even remember calling you last night.  Why did you take me home?”

“You asked.”  He put simply.

I raised an eyebrow at him.  “But you didn’t have to. Why did you?”  I push the question, fishing for him to tell me he wanted to.

“An employee, scratch that, multiple of my employees were out getting drunk.  When you texted me, I knew I should come to make sure you all were okay.”

My heart dropped a little bit.  I had a feeling when I saw him lying on my shitty couch, that he came to pick me up because he has feelings for me.  It sucks to know now that isn’t the case. Mr. Styles got up and walked over to the counter that separates the kitchen from the living room.  He leans over it because he’s tall enough to.

I just nod in response, going back to making myself coffee.  “Want a cup?” I decide to offer some hospitality because he came all the way to my apartment.  I’m sure it is completely out of his way, considering he probably lives in a fancy mansion just outside the city.

“Please.”  He responds.

I put another Keurig cup in the machine and turned it back on.  I offered him the cup that was already done but he declined it. “You need it much more than I do.”  He joked with me.

I rolled my eyes yet again.  “Stop rolling your damn eyes.”  He scolds me.

Raising an eyebrow I had to ask why.

“It’s disrespectful.”  Was his simple response.

“If you don’t think I’m respectful, you can just go home.”  I sassed him.

He scoffs at me.  “That attitude has to go as well.”

I give him a questioning look  “You’re the one that came home with me.  You could have easily left right after you dropped me off.”

“Actually,”  he begins, “I couldn’t.”  I give him another look and he continues. “You asked me if I wanted a drink and I am not one to turn down a nightcap, especially by a beautiful woman.”

I walk closer to him and lean over the counter as well.  This is the moment where I realize I am still in a towel and the whole time I have been talking to him. I have only had the thin layer of my towel on.  Our faces very close as we were practically leaning into each other. “And I am not one to flirt with my boss.” I winked and walked back over the the Keurig, where his cup of coffee had just finished dispensing.

He mutters something under his breath that I’m not sure I heard right, but I hope I did because I heard, “Tease.”

After giving him his coffee, I decide it is a good time to actually get dressed.  I put on a nice pair of dark wash jeans, no rips and a tee shirt from the first college I went to, St. John’s University.  I fix my hair that is already up in a  ponytail, my blonde hair falling to the top of my shoulders. Taking Miranda’s advice about wearing makeup more often, from yesterday, I put on a smidge.  By that I mean I filled in my eyebrows and put on mascara. Simple, but effective.

Come to think of it, I did have a lot of makeup on yesterday and I have no idea how I got it off last night in my very drunken state.

I emerge from my bedroom with socks and shoes in my hand, ready to go out for a walk.  I enjoy walks, especially when hungover. It might not seem like the best idea but when I sit at home all day, I still feel like shit.  If I at least leave the house I feel productive.

“I’m going on a walk so,” with the utmost respect and niceness in my voice, “will you please go home now?”  I ask. “I appreciate you coming to get me yesterday, even if it was just because some of your employees were trashed as well, but I need to get outside or I’m going to lose my mind.”

“If you’re so thankful, maybe you should make it up to me?”  Mr. Styles suggests with a smirk.

I shake my head.  “No way.”

He laughs.  “I’m not thinking anything dirty, who do you think I am?”

“You are absolutely thinking something dirty and I know who you are.  You are a 26 year old male, there’s always something dirty on your mind.”

Mr. Styles puts his hands up, in mock surrender.  “You got me there.” He winks and my jaw drops.

“Oh please, as if I would ever have sex with you.”  I lie right through my teeth. I would absolutely have sex with him.

“Now you’re the one lying about your thoughts.”  He starts to walk closer to me, grabbing my wrist lightly.  As he tugs me forward, into his chest, I get a flashback from last night where he kissed me on the forehead.  Oh shit, that actually happened.  Part of me thought it was a dream.

Instinctively, I start to lean in, as does he.  Just as our lips are about to brush against each other, he moves his head to the side, kissing me on the cheek.  “See, you would absolutely have sex with me.” He whispers quietly in my ear. His lips pull into a smirk as he distances himself from me, leaving me confused and frustrated.  “Now, how about that walk?” He asks casually, as if he didn’t just go and try to kiss me seconds before.