Buttercup [H.S]

Chapter Seventeen

"For fucks sake."

I'd gripped the door handle and began pushing it open, but Harry tugs me back suddenly by the sleeve of my jumper, the door clicking closed once more.

"Wait, let me go. It's probably just some drunk dude who's got the wrong door to his house, but I can't let you go up to him alone," his words are laced with concern as he watches the slumped figure at the foot of my door, but it's a waste of worry.

I groan to myself. "Harry, it's okay. It's Kyle."

He blinks at me, brows pinching in further as if that were possible.

"Kyle? What the fuck is Kyle doing passed out on your doorstep?"

I give him a look, raising my eyebrows and wait for him to cotton on.

He looks sheepish as it dawns on him and an uncomfortable feeling grips at my chest. His jaw twitches as he glares out at the pile of limbs and leather loafers that is Kyle, his eyes suddenly hard.

"You should probably go to him then," he says lowly, turning to look out of the windscreen, his jaw sharp. "Though he doesn't look like he's up to much tonight."

Harry's sudden dismissiveness toward me has my back prickling.

"Jesus Harry, I'm not going to fuck him," I hear myself snap. I don't know why, the way he doesn't even look at me makes it entirely obvious just how little he cares. And he shouldn't. "I'll call him an Uber."

"Okay."

I wait for him to say something else, anything, or to even look at me but neither happen. What's his problem? Harry's dislike for Kyle has always been obvious, and whilst I could respect that I at least expected him to not take his distain for him out on me directly. His sudden coldness had me feeling like a scolded child, and I didn't appreciate it at all.

"Right. Well. Thanks I guess." My voice is clipped, my throat feeling tight as I slip out of the van and onto the slick road, bumping the door closed behind me.

I only make it to the pavement in front of the little wrought iron gate leading up to my terraced house before I hear another door open and then slam. Kyle grunts at the noise, apparently taking a leisurely doze on my damp doormat, but doesn't wake.

"What are you doing?" I whisper shout to Harry who has followed me right up the the gate, van keys in hand.

"Making sure you get him home, I don't feel right leaving you alone with him," he whisper shouts back, gesturing to Kyle with a look of utter distain.

"I can manage him, Harry. Seriously. He'll sleep on my sofa until his Uber gets here and he'll leave," I say, my tone and mood softening. Whilst unnecessary, I understand where his care and concern comes from. Why he doesn't want to leave me alone with an intoxicated man late at night.

I step to him, twisting my pinkie around his. "Really, it'll be okay."

Harry's eyes flick between mine and a sleeping Kyle.

"I'd feel better waiting until he's gone."

I sigh. "I think it would make it worse if he wakes up and sees you to be honest."

"What about not keeping secrets anymore?" He asks but there's no harshness to it, his coldness quickly disappearing.

"I'm not keeping you a secret. I just don't want Kyle waking up and getting snarky about you being here."

As if my words were summoning him from his stupor, I hear Kyle grunt and groan incredibly unattractively from behind me.

"Sweet-Cheeks?" He slurs, mouth smacking together and a hand rubbing over his face.