Anchor {h.s}

twenty-five

Although my conversation with Niall lingered in my head, we ended up drinking and avoiding further serious conversation. Thinking about the situation was taking a toll on my mood and I really didn't want to impose that to Niall. Instead we drank some more and talked about our job, gossips and, obviously with Niall, football.  

So we drank, and we talked. We drank, and we talked. We drank, and we talked.  

Eventually words slurred together as we laughed and sang along to the songs that were playing. An hour or two went by, or maybe it was three, I didn't really know. I had lost track of time and the alcohol made it even harder to think clearly.  

The alcohol had the effect Niall promised; momentarily I forgot about my problems and completely let go. It felt great not to worry about Harry and our future for a second. I was having fun, but eventually the music, the air and the people around me became too much. I started to feel as if I was suffocating, so I excused myself to Niall and headed outside.  

As I step a foot outside, a rush of fresh air filled my lungs and I took in a deep breath.  The suffocating feeling had caught me by surprise, I hadn't realized how hot and heavy the air had gotten and how cloudy my mind was. The fresh air made me feel a lot better than I did only a few seconds ago. 

I walked a few feet away from the door and the people that smoked their cigarette before leaning against the wall. I closed my eyes and let my head fall back to rest on the wall too. The dizzying effect of alcohol was starting to hit me, hard. It took me a few minutes of slow breaths to get rid of the spinning feeling in my head, but still, I didn't feel like going back inside. I felt as if I had had enough to drink for the night.  

So I took out my phone with the intention to text Niall and tell him that I wasn't feeling too well and wanted to go home. But as I scrolled through my contacts, I slid my fingers too quickly against my screen and ended up in the names beginning with s. Obviously, my eyes immediately fell on Harry Styles and I felt my heart tightening in my chest.  

I missed him so much. It had only been three days, but it felt like an eternity. I missed hearing his voice; I missed the feeling of his fingers against my skin; I missed the feeling of his lips against my lips.  

My thumb pressed on Harry's name, opening the contact information, and I stared at my screen. It wasn't too late, only 11 pm, maybe he was still awake, and maybe I could send him a text to see how he was doing. I just wanted to know that he was okay. A simple message would ease my nerves.  

I was about to press the 'send a message' button, but instead I hit the 'call' button. I panicked for a second, not meaning to call him. But I had to admit that while part of me regretting doing that, another part of me longed to hear his voice.

Carefully, I brought the phone to my ear. Promising myself that if he didn't answer I would let it go. It rang once, twice, and on the third ring I had given up the hope that I would hear his voice.  I was about to end the call when Harry's voice finally came through.  

"Em?" He asked, sounding surprised. 

I sighed, relieved to finally hear his voice. Although it seemed like he was in a busy place, background noises covering most of his voice. Still, I heard him loud and clear, I was so eager to hear his voice that I would've heard it in a sea of people.  

"Em?" he repeated, this time the background noises seemed to fade, as if he had walked out of the busy room.

I took in a deep breath. "Hi," I finally replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Are you okay?" he sounded concerned. 

My knees bent, letting my body slide along the brick wall. I folded my legs and hugged my knees, keeping my phone to my ear.