Buttercup [H.S]

Chapter Seventeen

"Quick!" I whisper to Harry, shooing him in the direction of Cyndi.

"Ring me as soon as he's gone," Harry whispers back, already backing away. "If you haven't called in an hour I'm coming back."

"Okay, okay. Just go."

Harry shoots Kyle one last look of disgust before he's jogging across the road and into the van. He's pulling off down the street, wheels rolling over wet road just as Kyle has gotten enough of his whits about himself to push himself up to his feet.

"Where have you been?" Kyle grumbles groggily as he props his wavering frame up against the brick wall next to my door. "I've been waiting here for hours."

I roll my eyes as I unlock the door and push it open, Kyle following behind me without needing the invite.

"I've been out. You, sit on the sofa. I'll get you a drink and call you an Uber."

"Whaaaat?" He complains petulantly, walking behind me into the kitchen instead of the living room. "Come on Riley. I'm drunk and my arse is wet from the ground. Let me stay."

"Not tonight, Casanova," I shake my head and pass him a glass of water, my phone in my other hand. "You're wasted."

"M'not that drunk," he huffs, then unceremoniously hiccups which turns into a belch. "Okay. Maybe a bit."

"Sit down," I repeat, pushing him down the pink hallway toward my living room. He flops down onto my sofa heavily, his large frame much too big for the little velvet sofa.

I perch myself on the coffee table across from him as I unlock my phone, making quick work of ordering a car to come get him. They should be here in fifteen minutes; perfect.

I text Harry whilst I'm at it to update him to what's happening.

"So where were you?"

I snap my head up in surprise, assuming Kyle would have passed out again; he was a heavy sleeper when this drunk and usually struggled to keep his eyes open.

"Oh. Brighton."

"Hmph," he scoffs, giving me a strange, hard stare. I avert my eyes back to my phone, looking to see if I'd had a reply to my text, but Kyle speaks again. "Trip to the beach with Styles, eh? What's that about?"

Kyles words have me swallowing my spit and inching back on the coffee table. He must have seen us, or caught Harry driving off in his van just as he woke up.

"We...we're friends." I say, my heart jack hammering under my jumper. I'm being brave. I promised Harry, no more secrets and I meant it. But admitting the relationship between the two of us to someone like Kyle, someone from school, was still terrifying.

"Friends?" He says it as if the word is acid on his tongue. He sits up with square shoulders, suddenly a lot more bodily able than what I'd assumed. "Are you fucking him?"

"Excuse me?" I ask in disbelief, recoiling at his words and the berating tone he'd spoken them in.

"I think I have a right to know if you're being a little slut," he spits, causing me to inch further back. "You could give me something, especially from someone like Styles."

I stand up, wanting to get some space and putting the coffee table between us now. But Kyle raises to his feet as well, and I'm more aware than ever of his broad, towering frame that has at least a foot on me. I want to check my phone again but I'm too nervous to look away.

"So?" He snaps, stepping closer, voice laced with venom. "Are you fucking Styles?"

I feel myself shaking my head no. My hands are sweating profusely, gripping my phone tightly. Surely his car will be here any minute now? Please.