𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑! | harry styles

𝐗𝐗𝐈𝐈𝐈

AT first, I think I'm waking up next to a lawnmower. After last night, that thought might not be so farfetched.

How much did I drink?

My bed vibrates as the man next to me takes another huge snore.

I roll over and slam into Harry's chest.

"We made it." I sigh, thankful that neither one of us died last night.

"Harry, please wake up." I shake him.

He groans and rolls away from me. He mumbles something I can't hear.

"You're so loud." I untangle myself from the sheets and start to climb over his body. My vision shifts as I try to gracefully get up.

"Alyssa, I don't think I'm going to survive." His voice is raspy. "Stop the pain."

"You're being dramatic. Everything will feel better after we get up and start moving."

"I'm never moving again."

I start shaking him. "The hangover will only get worse if you allow it to capture you."

"This isn't a hangover; this is death." His large hands grab my hips. "Stop moving."

"I told you last night to take it slow. I warned you."

"You had just as much as I did," he complains.

"Harry, you probably don't want me to point this out, but there's a thirteen- year age difference between us. Plus, you don't usually drink that way. The most I've ever seen you drink is half a bottle of wine. We at least tripled that last night."

"Don't remind me."

"And we took some kind of pill that probably didn't help our current situation."

"We shouldn't have done that. We could have been killed. That was so irresponsible of us. Weed is one thing, but random pills?" He groans.

"I can bounce back. You can't."

I straddle his hips and look down at him. Harry really does look like shit. Purple shadows stretch under his eyes, and his skin is a pasty gray color.

"God, why did I ever agree to go out with you?" He opens his eyes, but then squints them closed.

"You had fun. Admit it." I lean down and kiss him softly.

"Tell me how to cure myself, young one." He chuckles. The action looks like it hurts.

"Shower, food, water, gym, more food, sleep, and then sex." I hop off of the bed. "It's a proven remedy."

"I can't," he sighs when I try to pull him up.

"Yes, you can." I tug harder and he nearly falls to the floor.

Getting into the shower is an Olympic challenge. We're already naked so I don't have to undress him, but Harry acts as if he's allergic to water. One second, it's too hot, and then next it's too cold. He complains the entire time that the body wash is overwhelmingly fragrant.

"This shampoo hurts my hair," Harry groans. He's kneeling in the shower, his hands clasping around my middle, as I scrub his scalp.

"Harry, you're testing my patience right now. It's not that bad." I roll my eyes. "You're fine. Don't think about it."

"This has to be worse than childbirth."

I don't comment on that statement.

"It must have been those damn white pills," he mentions. "What were they?"