Not Just Another Cinderella Story

27. Drunk Admittance

CHELSEA

My phone rang, making me slowly make my way across the living room to pick it up. It was Harry, who had said he'd be home an hour and a half ago.

"Hello?" I said dryly.

"Um... Hey, Chelsea."

"I thought you'd be home," I said, sighing and sinking into the couch.

"Sorry, the interviews are running really late." I could practically hear him lying.

"Right. What actually happened?"

"Nothing! Just... someone showed up late... so yeah. I'll be home soon."

"Whatever, Harry." I rolled my eyes as I disconnected, returning to Sherlock. Either he could tell me himself, or I could find out. Once you knew him, anyone could read him like a book. I hadn't been sitting for more than a few minutes when the doorbell rang. Niall was there, holding his guitar.

"I'm bored, will you entertain me?" he said, as I held the door open with a frown.

"Sure. When did your interviews end?"

"Um, at 5:00. I thought Harry told you?"

"Yeah, he sure did," I mumbled, as we flopped down on the couch.

"Where is he anyways?"

"Don't know." Niall seemed to sense something was wrong, but didn't say anymore about it. "So is there anything in mind you wanna do?" I asked, tucking my legs under me.

"Nah, I don't mind just chillin here if you're okay with it." I nodded and turned the T.V off, watching Niall while he tuned his guitar, and strummed randomly. The music seemed to drift in and out of my ears, my mind wondering what Harry was actually doing. Was he cheating on me? Even I didn't believe that. I guess my silent, somber mood created a lot of tension in the air.

"I gotta go," Niall said, looking at his watch. "It's almost nine, I have to get up early tomorrow." He waved as he left, leaving the apartment quiet and far too empty. Harry finally stumbled in at half to ten.

"Harry?" I said. He was obviously drunk.

"Chelsea... I... I'm... I went..." I ran his hands over his face. "I can't lie to you... I went to go see... But I can't tell you... Or... Leave... You'll leave..." I sighed and made him sit on the couch. Throwing a blanket at him, I left to go to bed.

"Sleep Harry, we'll talk later, when you're not drunk."

"Chelsea. But... I'm sorry... I... And Michelle..." He frowned and his head dropped to the armrest. Michelle? His ex? As hard as it was, I didn't jump to any conclusions, and crawled under the covers. It was empty having a king sized bed to myself, something that never bothered me until I met Harry. I could hear the faint ticking from the wall clock in the hallway keeping me awake. I heard soft footsteps and the creaking of our bedroom door.