Chapter 22

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^the gif explains how i felt writing this chapter ahahaha

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The sight of Harry's hand on Bri's hip is revolting. 

Surely he knew that this would piss me off? What am I thinking - of course he knows it is going to piss me off. That is clearly what he is trying to do. Is he really trying to get even for me coming in with Zayn? Or am I stupid enough to think he would not mess around with other girls after he fingered me? 

Screw him. Clearly this friends with benefit thing is not working for me.

I step closer to Zayn, not feeling an ounce of guilt doing so, and we take a seat on the couch opposite of Harry and the blonde bimbo on his lap. I look at her outfit in disgust. Of course she took the chance to dress like a slut in front of everyone. She is wearing the typical "eighties" barbie workout outfit. With bright blue tights and a bubble gum pink onesie over it. Her hair is put up in a long blonde ponytail. She looks like she normally does; a whore, but eighties edition. 

I try not to stare at them. I hate that I have had to this at every single party I have been at so far. Why is it so hard for Harry to be nice to me in public? Instead he just has to humiliate me and be touchy with other girls. Especially Bri. 

I knew I should not have come. Why do I always talk myself into going to these stupid parties?But then again, if I didn't come, would Harry still be touching Bri like this? My stomach flips at the thought of it what he does with Bri and other girls without me present.

Bri caught my eye and her bright pink lips pull into a cocky smirk. My face heats up as she inches further onto Harrys lap, her bum on top of his manhood. I can't do this.

I turn to Zayn. "Actually I wouldn't mind something to drink."

"Of course. I can go grab you one-"

"I'll come with," I announce hastily. I can't spend another second in here sober. 

Zayn smiles at me. We both stand up. I feel Harry's eyes on us as we walk away from the couch and out of the living room. 

"What do you want to drink?" Zayn asks me as we walk through the crowded hall and into to the kitchen. 

I gaze at all the options. An array of beer, wine-coolers, and other forms of alcohol scatter the room in ice bins. How do they afford to supply this much alcohol at every party? 

I shake my head. "I just want to take a shot of something."

"Tequila?" Zayn questions, holding up a glass bottle. 

I nod, grabbing the bottle from him. Zayn digs around for shot glasses, but I just twist off the cap and bring the bottle to my lips. I tilt my head, allowing the burning liquid to cascade down my throat. I swallow, removing my lips from the bottle. I squeeze my eyes shut from the scorching sensation. When I open them, Zayn looks at me with a surprised expression on his face. 

"What?" I ask him.

"You're not playing around tonight, eh?" He laughs. 

"I suppose not." 

I bring the bottle to my lips again, taking another swig of the tequila. I just want to get drunk as fast as possibly. I don't want to feel jealous anymore. I want to be like Kate. I want to just let loose and pretend I am not Aria Jacobs for one night. I want to be confident and not have a single worry or thought about the curly headed boy in the other room.

"Don't drink too much," Zayn says cautiously. He grabs the bottle from my grip. "Is everything okay?"

I nod. "Yes. I just want to have fun tonight." 

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