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Twenty Three

Harry Styles

I haven't done coke in two weeks.

I don't know why. Ever since the one night I skipped it when staying with Aubrey, I haven't taken it again. I'm itching for it constantly, don't get me wrong, I just haven't scratched the itch in a while. I'm finding other ways to make it die down.

By other things I mean sex. Lots and lots of sex.

Mostly with Cara, but a few of her friends squeezed in on her busy nights. She would be pissed if she found out, but I don't really care. Not my problem. I don't owe her shit. She's exactly like the rest of them, she's just clingy enough to stick around.

I've been hypersexual from a young age. Trauma does some funny things to your brain, I guess. You don't always react to certain situations in the way you'd expect. The way everyone says you will on social media or TV.

I know sex is what I'm good at. Sex is what people want from me, so that's exactly what I give them. I am kind of the known guy for this sort of thing. One night stands you'll remember, and nothing more after that.

Cara seems to be more than a one night thing, and Aubrey, too. I don't usually let someone get it from me more than once, but with both of them, I did. I can't explain Aubrey, but Cara is simply because she doesn't leave me alone. She's a seductress, so she gets what she wants. Who am I to turn down good sex for the night?

Even with the nightly distractions, I'm so tempted to succumb to my urges. I know I can, I'm the one that chose to stop in the first place, but part of me is saying not to. I don't have a clue why. I just know that there's a little voice in my head saying to keep this shit up, so that's what I'm doing.

Joints have been helping, too. Endless joints from Zayn and Louis. That's what I'm occupying myself with now, actually. We're all sitting in my living room with the TV on, passing around a joint and making the whole loft reek with weed. I don't give a shit what anyone who comes over here thinks of the smell, so I'm not bothered.

"So you fucked Jade?" I sluggishly turn my head to look at Zayn.

"That was a couple weeks ago," he corrects me, "Now, we're like... friends, I think."

"You're talking about she-devil's friend?" Louis asks to clarify, and I nod.

"She's not a she-devil. You guys are just assholes. Her and Jade both have a lot of shit going on in their lives. She told me the constant taunting from the two of you doesn't help anything." Zayn points at Louis and I with a disapproving look on his face.

"Hey, I have to be around her at least two days a week. Forgive me for being annoyed." I hold up my hands in surrender.

We've gotten into maybe three big fights in the past couple of weeks. All being blown out of proportion by my coke deprived self, but fights nonetheless. One about her almost getting caught leaving a guy's house, another about me being "too mean", and the last one a couple days ago was about me being a dick to her cat.

Her cat.

I didn't want him laying all over me, so I kept pushing him off while I waited for her to get ready so we could go to a stupid dinner thing for the paps, and she was convinced I was hurting him. He looked fine to me, walking it off like nothing happened. She treats that thing like her child. It's weird.

We had a good period of time, maybe a week without fights, but I really think that's because we had sex on my birthday. The inevitable awkwardness after sleeping together has worn off, and now we're back to fighting like the enemies I almost forgot we are. We still have our civil moments every once in a while, but they're few and far between.