Once I got to the bar, I realized I didn’t want to go to a bar. I wanted to go to a club, but I wouldn’t be let in looking like this. I could go back to the bus and get clothes and go back out alone, but there was a large chance I would run into one of the boys considering, you know, they lived there.
So I called the only person I really could.
“Hello, Ky?” Harry Styles’ smooth voice replied over the phone.
“Can y-you please get me something to cl-club in and m-meet me somewhere?” I choked out, Hazza’s voice making me cry for no good reason.
“Of course. Where should we meet?” One of the best things about Harry, he never asked questions if he could tell you didn’t want them asked.
“There’s this little bar off the side of Muggier street… can you meet me there?”
“Definitely, love. I’ll be there in about fifteen.” And thirteen minutes later, Harry opened the door of the tiny bar, expertly disguised. He handed me a bag, and I sniffled out a thank you to him and went in the little disgusting bathroom to change.
Of course, he had brought me the skimpiest dress he could find. It was basically a dark blue spandex strip that formed to my body like a second skin. There was a pair of silver heels that I forgot I owned that I slipped on my feet, but nothing for my hair or make up. I guess I was just going with my hair as a messy, slightly wavy thing and minimum makeup on.
“Damn.” Harry joked as I stepped out of the bathroom from where he was sitting at the bar.
“Drop me off at a club somewhere.” I demanded, walking out with him to where a car was idling. A security guard whose name I couldn’t remember was in the driver’s seat, and I waved at him before sliding into the back with Harry.
“I’m not dropping you off, Ky. I’m coming with you.” Harry added, like I was mentally challenged.
“You don’t have to. And what if Zayn sees-”
“I am coming, and Zayn slammed out a few minutes after you did saying something about getting drunk somewhere nobody would find him.”
“Nobody stopped him?” I said, a brief worry overwhelming me before I reminded myself that I didn’t care right now.
“You guys are still together, right? He won’t get too hammered.” Harry assured me as we zoomed through the night.
“We didn’t break up. But it was a bad fight. As in, might break up.” I replied, sadness filling me up.
“We heard how bad it was. Kissing Bridget was a dick move. But you two are meant for each other.” Hazza pat my back as the car pulled up to the club, and we slid out. Luckily, not many people were here and Harry was undercover. None of these people seemed to know me and that was great.
Half an hour, four shots each, and nine songs later we were both happily tipsy. I’d say I was bordering on drunk.
SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS EVERYBODY.
When this song came on, Harry and I both hollered, heading over to the bar with the other twenty people in the small club to do exactly what the song said.
Don’t ask me how I managed to down three shots in three minutes considering I hated them, but Harry and I both did it. Okay, now I was drunk.
I was jumping around crazily, Harry right next to me. There were couples making out heavily all around us, and I had a thought that I tried to banish from my mind but continued to fly back. I guess he was thinking the same thing, because before I knew it he was puling me back into him. My ass pushed into his crotch, I grinded against him for about three songs. My brain was totally shut off, forgetting to remind me that this was bad and that the bulge pushing against me was even worse. Worst of all, it forgot to remind me that I was not supposed to enjoy it or crave more. And for some reason, I did.
With a sound between a whimper and a moan, Harry spun me around (which made me dizzy considering my head was already swimming from all the alcohol) and pressed his alcohol-tasting lips to my alcohol-tasting lips. The kiss deepened almost instantly until we were just another pair making out heavily on the dance floor. He grabbed my ass, pulling me into him so each and every part of my body was pressed up against him.
Our drunk hormones were wild along with our regular teenage ones; the fact that Harry had had nothing but hook-ups with random fans in a while and even that had been a few weeks, and the fact that I was so fucked up over Zayn right now ended us up in the bathroom with me on my knees in front of him.
His slightly loud, inhuman sound when he ‘hit his peak’ was basically a pat on the back to me. He was leaning back on the counter, breathing heavily with his eyes half open. My breath hitched, as I was suddenly sober, or, more sober. Sober enough to realize what I just did.
Fuck. I had Zayn. What the hell?
My mind, slightly less foggy then before as I sipped water at the bar counter, played back the stupid shit I had done that night. Basically, I had run out of the bus, gone to a random bar, where Harry picked me up. We danced at a club until our dancing turned into making out which led to me sucking him off in the bathroom.
I was such a slut.
Harry sat next to me, his face still slightly flushed and his curls sweaty. “Um, hi.” He said awkwardly.
“I’m sorry.” We both spit out.
“It wasn’t your fault.” Harry told me. “I kissed you, I brought you into the bathroom, I made you cheat on Zayn.”
“No! I kissed you back, I let you pull into the bathroom, I started going down on you.”
“That was so bad.” Harry sighed, drinking water.
“Thanks?” I replied, slightly insulted even though I knew he didn’t mean it like that.
“No! Not the blowjob, that was great.”
I laughed, interrupting him. I shouldn’t be laughing. I was a slut.
“But, the fact that we did it was bad. And it’s even worse we have to tell Zayn.”
“I know.” I sighed, tears blurring my vision again. I was still less than sober, and I knew I wouldn’t remember it but I don’t think I could forget.
“We’re going back to the bus, okay? Just sleep, we can think in the morning. And just so you know, the secret I was going to tell you months ago was that I thought I loved you.” Harry gave me a hug and a kiss on the head, something that shouldn’t feel as friendly or as comforting as it did considering what just happened.
“Wait!” I said, my mind reeling. “Do you?” No no no please say no.
“I did, but you’re Zayn’s and I wouldn’t mess that up. Well, shit, I did mess it up but I didn’t mean to. I’ve moved on. I swear.”
“For the record, I loved you too.” I gave him a smile, the truth coming out finally. While I did love Harry, both before we went out and during, Zayn was now my only priority.
this chapter is so busy and don’t hate Kylie just yet.
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Zayn's Best FriendFanfiction
Kylie and Zayn have been best friends since they were little kids. They're going through the ups and downs of friendship and along the way, maybe even love. (I promise the story is better than the summary)