Nothing Good Gets Away

Chapter 20

HARRY STYLES

I open my eyes to see my living room ceiling and too much sunlight. My neck, I think, might be broken as I try to lift my head from the back of the couch and fail the first three attempts. There's a weight in my lap when I slowly straighten out my legs, and the room spins slightly as I look down to see Rowan passed out cold.

She's facing the ceiling like I was, and her expression is so relaxed that I would think she's dead if I couldn't see her chest slowly rising and falling. Her eyeliner, glittery ears, and whiskers are otherwise still intact, and all I can think is that she just looks like an odd version of Sleeping Beauty.

"Jesus," I barely laugh to myself when I see that she's still holding a piece of her quesadilla down by the button on her trousers.

Carefully, I wiggle the tortilla out from between her fingers and toss it on the plate resting on the couch cushion next to me. I glance around the room, unsure of how I'm going to get up without waking her. Staying could be an option if my bladder isn't about to explode.

Moving as slowly as I can, I shift and slide out from under her until her head gently lands on the couch. It lulls to the side, but she stays asleep as I grab the plate to put on the counter and head to my bathroom. After I finish, I wash my hands and wince at the product that hardened in my hair, keeping it both messy and stiff when I try to run my fingers through it.

I splash cold water on my face and strip off my leather jacket to toss on my bed, but through my open doorway, I can see Rowan slowly sitting up. She holds her head in her hands, then rips the ears off to massage her temples.

I hesitate on going back out there, hoping that she's not upset over the fact that she fell asleep here. In my defense, I suggested that I help her into her own place, but she stopped talking to me and I didn't have the strength to try and get up to carry her. And maybe...maybe I wasn't necessarily mad about her falling asleep on me either.

"Hey," my voice is thick with sleep and rasp as I tread lightly into the living room.

"Hi," she whines a pathetic laugh. "I'm so sorry."

I walk around to sit on the couch in the same spot I slept in. "For what?"

She rubs her eyes, taking a deep breath before she drops her hands to her lap. "I was supposed to be able to drive us home. I didn't mean to get so drunk. I don't ever get that drunk."

"Oh, no it's okay," I laugh. "I'm not upset about that at all, but I know you said you didn't want to get that drunk so...I mean, are you feeling alright?"

"Uh-uh," she slowly sits back against the couch. "I'm a sober woman now. As soon as the alcohol leaves my system. No more."

"Yeah, I agree," I swallow past a cotton dry throat. "We do need to go get your car at some point today, though."

"Shit, yeah," she scratches her fingers through her hair. "I think I'm just going to, um...I'm gonna shower, and I have to take Scout to the bathroom, and then we can go...if you can take me."

I press my lips together at the sound of exhaustion in her voice as she mumbles her to-do list. "I can take Scout if it'll help, and then I'll just need to shower too, but we can go whenever you feel ready."

She frowns at me. "You're sure? He has so much energy in the morning."

"Yeah, don't worry about it," I clear my throat as I stand up, holding my hand out to help her do the same.

On her first step, she stumbles in her heeled boots and puts her hands out in front of her like she's about to fall over. I can't help but laugh, and I hear the smile in her voice when she tells me to shut it.