*warning: if anyone has ever been sexually assaulted or has been affected by sexual assault then I wouldn't recommend reading this*
"Baby, what are you wearing right now?" Harry lowly cooed into his iPhone as he strolled calmly outside onto the soft, green garden grass. I left the door open as my mind struggled to find any emotion other than anger and jealousy.
Clyde was trying to distract me but I was focused strictly on Harry's promiscuous conversation with whoever was dumb enough to actually give him the time. I was frustrated, my brain numb as I intently listened to his seductive words which flowed effortlessly from his mouth.
"Oh, shit," Clyde giggled as we both listened to what was being said. "He's totally having phone sex."
I held back any hurtful words, instead I listened to him more. "You like it when I call you baby? What do you want me to do to you, baby?"
He was an idiot. He was a self centered, carless, curious idiot. I wanted to cry, I wanted to yank my hair out and sob endlessly. But I wasn't going to, instead I was simply going to metaphorically fuck him, since it would never happen literally.
Clyde and I took a round of shots, and then we did another. I wanted to numb the pain. But why did I feel so much? Did I resort my emotions to alcohol because I felt so betrayed, or was there something else to this? I think... I have feelings for him.
Oh, my gosh. I think I have feelings for him.
Is this why it hurt so much? But why? He was cold, unemotional and sadistic. He never smiled, he never laughed and he was never nice. I wish I could use the fact that he always helps me up as an example, but I know he only does it because he doesn't want to be 'responsible' for me.
I had to put a stop to my emotions, toughen up, drink, drink and drink.
"Pour me another shot." I slurred, losing my balance immediately. I regretfully stumbled back, tripping over my own feet and landing swiftly to the floor. Clyde erupted into laughter as he swiftly helped me to my feet, but I couldn't feel anything anymore, emotionally and physically.
Harry stood angrily by the door, his hand covering the speaker of his phone. "What the fuck is going on?"
He was standing by me the whole time. "You... You didn't catch me?"
He quizzically furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "I couldn't, I was on the phone."
My lips pouted sadly as I felt my throat burn. "You didn't catch me." I repeated.
"Harley, for fuck's sake. I'm talking to someone, catch yourself," He spat, turning back to the garden. "Be quiet, I need to take this call."
He left me and Clyde by ourselves for the second time, but I didn't want to drink anymore. I was too depressed over the fact that Harry would rather word-bang someone on the phone than catch me when I fall. It's nice to know that he made his choice. Now I was making mine.
I grasped Clyde's arm and led him through the living room playfully. "Let's go upstairs."
We were a drunken mess but I was sane enough to know what betrayal felt like. And funnily enough, I was sane enough to know what revenge was. "Right through here, in Harry's room."
I took him upstairs and deliberately entered Harry's room, knowing that would drive him livid. I slyly smirked as I led us both to the edge of his bed, where we both sat and connected out lips once more. I sniffled as I trailed my hand teasingly to his thigh, and I spontaneously palmed his crotch.
"Woah," Clyde moaned. "Wait, I need to go to the bathroom. Give me a minute."
He stumbled and staggered elsewhere, giving me a little time to prepare. I had no worries anymore, I just wanted to do something that would anger Harry to no end. So, I removed my school skirt, jumper and tie. I had no time to change since I went shopping straight from school.
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Call Boy. (Harry Styles Fan Fiction) on holdFanfiction
Harley Thomas; an anxiously wrecked Christian who thrives on judging those who sin. Harry Styles; an emotionally wrecked Atheist who thrives on sinning.