The Bad Boy's Bad Words (COMPLETED)

Reunion Drinks

Harry's P.O.V

It got awkward.

All I could reminisce about, were the awful words I threw at her four years ago - I've never forgiven myself.

Although, I'm almost positive I'm over Taylor. No more confusion over who I am, or what I should do. I've got Kendall now, and I think she's the love of my life, or that's what I tell myself anyway.

It helps get rid of the thought of Taylor; her short blonde hair, signature red lipstick and that perfect figure of hers.

Kendall is almost the complete opposite. Her long, chocolatey coloured hair compliments her plain, light style. She doesn't care too much on bright and extravagant colours, more on the light browns and nudes.

And although her model-figure is equally as beautiful, there's just something... different, I guess.

"So."

"So," I said, awkwardly.

"Who's this new guy?"

"Who's this new girl?" We said in perfect unison. It was clear that we both missed the old times, where we could speak freely about shit that doesn't matter to others, but only to ourselves.

"You first," I said, "tell me about this guy," I added.

"Well," she sighed, smiling, "I think I love him, he's... great!" She bragged. I felt angry.

"So how's your new chick, what's she like?" She smiled at me. I could tell she was genuinely interested this time, that was the sign that told me she was over me.

Taylor's P.O.V

Fuck I'm not over him.

"So how's your new chick, what's she like?" I put on a smiley, 'I'm happy for you' face, this is where an 'A' in GCSE drama comes in handy.

"Yeah," he nodded, "she's incredible! Her names Kendall Jenner, she's a model. Maybe you've seen her? She walked in the Victoria's Secret Fashion show this year," he smirked.

Please tell me I don't have to live up to the standards of a VICTORIA'S SECRET MODEL.

"Haha," I giggled, "she sounds lovely," I lied. I wanted to rip her apart and tell her he's not her Harry, he's mine. Even if we haven't seen each other in four years, I can tell there's still chemistry in the mists of this strange relationship.

"Do you wanna, grab a drink or something? They opened a new bar down the road and I heard its really good but I honestly don't know but, but..."

"Harry," I paused his indecent rambling, "obviously I want to go get a drink, I'm lacking alcohol in the masses," I swiftly (oh got there's so many puns) turned around and followed him down the crooked street to the brand new bar perched on the corner.

---

"DOWN IT, DOWN IT, DOWN IT!" Men and women all around us jeered us on as we tipped our heads back, consuming the cold, yet fiery liquid. I smashed the shot glass down on the table, milliseconds before Harry did.

"I," I slurred, "am the lit-eral c-h-a-m-p-i-o-n of shots!" I shoved his shoulder lightly, he toppled of the side of his barstool with a clatter.