the song for this chapter is "Live In The Moment," by Portugal :)
***********
Ooh la la la la la
Let's live in the moment
Come back Sunday morning
A lie, oh well
When you're gone
Goodbye, so long, farewell
***********
Finley
"So...are we going to talk about the Bowie shirt...or no?" Lars asked as we drove back to our place. I had decided I couldn't stand another second alone with Harry, let alone a few more hours. So...I had stomped to every room in the house until I located my two best friends, finding Willa laying completely nude on top of Grant when I finally found her...so I think it's safe to say she had a good night.
Lars had filled me in on a smooch he shared with Mr. BMW, now identified as Ricky Porter, and I had found both of them passed out on one of the couches, Lars clutching an empty vodka bottle in his hand.
"It's a David Bowie t-shirt, what's the issue?" I asked, pretending to have no idea what he was talking about.
Willa scoffed in the backseat, laying completely flat in the seats, not bothering to buckle up as she was having probably one of her top five worst hangovers.
Lars nodded approvingly. "It's a great shirt, don't get me wrong... the only issue is...I know for a fact that's not yours."
"How do you know that?" I scoffed.
"Um...because I know every single article of clothing you own, you bitch! Are you seriously not gonna tell us whose it is?" He chuckled, folding his hands behind his head and reclining back a bit more.
I let out a groan and hit my head against the steering wheel as we approached a stop sign.
"Will you stop patronizing me? You know damn well who this shirt belongs to," I whined.
"Oh, one hundred percent we do. We just wanna hear you say it," Lars laughed, and I heard Willa let out a half-assed snicker from the backseat.
"It's Harry's! There! Happy?" I snapped, desperately wishing last night had never happened so that I didn't have to endure the endless teasing this morning.
Willa was suddenly bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, shooting up so fast in her seat that I hardly had time to blink.
"Oh my gosh, yes! Okay, how big was it? Lars and I have a bet going on. I said probably seven and a half, maybe eight, and Lars says nine and up. There's a lot of money riding on this, no pun intended, so, spill," she sputtered out excitedly.
My jaw dropped open at her words.
"Okay, first of all, we did not have sex. And second of all, you guys made a bet about his dick?" I chuckled in disbelief.
"Then why the fuck are you in his t-shirt? And of course we made a bet about his dick! What kind of friends do you think we are?" Lars gasped, pretending to be hurt.
"We hooked up, messed around a little. Nothing major. Not a big deal. No dicks involved unless we are just referring to his personality," I replied quickly, wishing they would drop it, but also knowing that they wouldn't.
I pulled up to the house and drove up the driveway, putting the car in park and hopping out quickly, my purse strap draped loosely over my arm, my red-heeled boots tapping quickly against the pavement as I attempted to get inside and away from my interrogating best friends as quickly as possible.
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full throttle || h.s. ||
Fanfiction"Who's that over there?" The man looked at me like I was from outer space, or perhaps like I lived under a rock, maybe a mixture of both. "Him? They call him Full Throttle," he chuckled with a hint of nervousness in his voice. I scrunched...
