Wrong Direction

Chapter 23: Hanging

I woke with a throbbing head... What the hell happened last night?

I looked around the room and noticed that I wasn't in the room that I usually slept in. Then I realised that I wasn't alone in the bed... Harry laid face down, no shirt on, and completely passed out for the count. I jumped out of the bed so fast that I landed on the floor with a thud. I heard a rustle and quickly jumped up and ran to the bathroom, closing the door behind me.

What the shit!? Why was I sleeping in Harry's bed!?

I leaned on the bench and stared at my puffy red eyes and crazy bird's nest hair in the mirror... I racked my brain for memories of the night before...

***

I glanced around at everyone in the lounge room but only met one pair of eyes. The green beamed with such strength that no one could possibly overlook it. He raised an eyebrow at me and looked to my beer. He was clearly telling me that I didn’t have to drink it if I didn’t want to. But this was the most relaxed I’d felt all day.

Eleanor took my hand and dragged me over to the couch where the conversation was based around Perrie and how she was in a girl-band called Little Mix. I admitted that it sounded familiar but still had no idea who she actually was. The conversation then shifted to Eleanor and how she was a model.

I really envied these girls but was thankful that I lived a normal life outside of the media limelight – well… used to. If only I had an amazing story to go with it.

The night was getting late and I soon found myself catching a breath of fresh air on the balcony. It had been one of the longest days of my life.

And to think that only this morning I was visiting the Sydney Opera House with Harry!

“What are you thinking about?”

I jumped at the voice that came from beside me as we both leaned on the railing, overlooking the twinkling lights of the city. I quickly searched for something other to say than ‘you’.

“Life.” I took a swig of my fifth beer to avoid any more elaboration on the question. My stomach grumbled with rejection.

“Sorry about this,” Harry apologised.

“About what?” I asked, confused.

“I know you probably would’ve preferred to have had a quiet night after what happened earlier."

“Actually,” I began, “I think I needed this.”

“Really?” He looked surprised as I turned to face him.

“Seriously, I feel so relaxed.” I shrugged.

 “I think that’s the beer talking.” He laughed.

“But really, I think I just needed a night with friends.” I smiled for real. "I’ve faked too many smiles this week."

“Where is she?” A voice bellowed from inside the apartment. Before I could even process what was happening, Harry had already stolen my beer from my hand. “There you are!”

Paul appeared on the balcony not a moment later. He glanced at my empty hands inquisitively and then at Harry, who had two beers in his hand.

“What?” Harry shrugged. “I’m thirsty.”

“Right,” my uncle replied doubtfully before looking to me. “Can we talk?”

I eyed Harry with ‘save me’ eyes, but he shook his head at me. He was going to make me sort this one out on my own. “I’m really not in the mood.” I sighed at my uncle.