oh, anna [-hs]

a pearl

a/n We're almost to 2k! Thanks you guys! 

22.

A couple of minutes later he comes out of his room, wearing the outfit I suggested. I hold my breath, feeling embarrassed and frustrated by our confrontation. He walks down the steps to me on the living room sofa, and stops to stand in front of my figure.

"Then let's go get really drunk." He offers.

We take a lyft down the streets of L.A.. It's dark, so when we look out the windows, all we can see are the glowing silhouettes of the mansions in the hills and our own reflections in the glass. I still don't know what celebrity's house we're going to. I assume it's a celebrity, based on where we are in the city, and how expensive the homes are.

We don't really talk on the car ride there, and the driver doesn't really talk to us either, but halfway through the ride, Harry reaches down and grabs my hand, holding onto it tightly. So tightly, I worry he may cut off circulation to my fingers. I glance over at him, but he's staring out his window, his jaw twitching back and forth. I decide to let him keep holding it, unsure of what his intention is. I don't think I could pull away even if I wanted to.

We stop in front of a house with tall hedges lining the yard for privacy. Harry lets go of my hand so we can get out of the car. As I step out into the crisp air, I can hear the gentle thudding of music from the house. Harry walks around the hood and toward me, his phone lighting up his face as he pays and rates the driver. As they pull away, he looks up at me, turning off the device.

"Ready?" He finally says, after all that silence. That's all he says. I bite my lip.

"I'm sorry," I try, but he holds up his hand.

"No, you were honest," he lowers his hand, worried he might be coming off aggressive. "Let's drink," he motions with his head toward the house, almost desperately. He wants one too.

I nod, and we make our way up the driveway to the front door. "So, who's house is this?"

He purses his lips. "Does it matter?" A small laugh escapes him.

"Well I don't know, you made it seem like a big deal earlier."

He knocks on the front door and takes a step back, letting out a little cough. As the door swings open, he perks his eyebrows up at me playfully. I glance inside, and my mouth falls open.

Standing before me, in all her glory, is Miley Cyrus.

I snap my mouth shut and grin ear to ear. "Uh, hello," I try. She tilts her head at me, confused, and then Harry steps forward from the shadows.

"Uh, hello," he mimics me. Miley relaxes when she sees him and smiles wide.

"Hey!" She laughs and steps back, gesturing for us to come inside.

"This is Quinn," he introduces me. His tone is short, flat. He steps in and turns back. "We're looking for booze."

That's the last time we see Miley that night. He's right, it doesn't matter whose house it is. There are so many people here that I recognize, and also a ton of people that I don't. I figure they're like me, lingering in the celebrity's shadows, working in the industry behind the scenes.

We find the drinks pretty fast. There's a bar smack dab in the middle of the living space, a few people behind it dispersing liquor. I lean up against the counter, raising my hand to call over one of them.

"Hi," I smile at the bartender. He smiles back. "Can I just get like, five shots of vodka please and thank you."

Harry huffs, but holds his hand up to ask for two of what I ordered. I roll my eyes.