Midnight Memories: A Harry Styles Fanfiction (temporally discontinued)

Chapter Seven: Regrets

I looked Harry up and down, to scared to say anything. We stood there in complete silence before Harry awkwardly cleared his throat.
I snapped out of my trance and quickly said something I would soon regret.
"Look Harry, what happened last night was a mistake. I had way to much to drink and we both were out of our heads."
Silence.
The moment I spoke those words, a twinge of regret flowed through my body.
I watched Harry's face fall into a frown. His cheeks filled with an embarrassing red.
"Yeah, okay..." he mumbled, leaving us once again in an uncomfortable silence.
"I should probably," Harry gestured at the door.
I took a step towards him.
"No, you don't have to go. Don't-"
Harry cut me off by quickly turning around and grabbing his coat from the sofa.
"I should. I've got some stuff to do anyway."
I opened my mouth to protest, but no sound came out. I didn't know what to say.
Harry intently started at his feet.
"I'll talk to you soon, Y/N." He said bitterly before walking out my front door.
I sighed a breath of regret.
"Shit."
I couldn't believe I said that. My hungover mind wasn't thinking straight.
I quickly pulled out my phone to send a text to Harry.
"He must hate me..." I thought before sending a text that said:
Hey!
I hope we can hang out again soon.
I thought sending him a message would make me feel better, but it just made me feel worse.
My entire body reeked of regret.
I turned my head over to the clock, the time read 8:07.
I groaned as I realized I had to repress my emotions and go to work.
I walked back into my bathroom with my head down and turned on the shower, trying desperately to wash away my pain.
I heard a quiet "bing" come from my phone and my body began to fill up with anxiety.
I jumped out of the shower, dried my hair, put on my makeup, and grabbed my work clothes.
I was as fast as a cheetah.
I snatched up my phone and eagerly looked at my notifications, only to see a text from my mother.
It had been a good 20 minutes since I texted Harry.
He usually responded immediately.
I slammed my head into my hands moaning,
"God! He hates me."
I fumbled with my keys and threw my phone in my purse.
I decided to call Harry after work. I couldn't just leave it like that.
My mind wouldn't be able to rest until I talked to him again.
I needed to know that he was okay.