Harry's P.O.V

I'm absolutely stunned. No way. Already? I let tears slip down my cheeks, blurring the horrible image in front of me. It was a trend on Twitter that I clicked on.

#ClaraHiggens=Whore

I was pissed, so I clicked on it and found pictures of Clara asleep, naked, in a bed of some other guy. No. I let out a sob. Oh my God, we're really over. It hits me like a ton of bricks. She had sex with another guy. I didn't think she would move on that fast. 

"Harry, what happened?" Louis asks, sitting on my bed. I hand him the phone and he inhales sharply, cursing under his breath. "What the fuck? I'm so sorry, mate."

"Yeah," I croak, my voice rough from crying. "I didn't think she would do this so quickly."

"Me neither, mate. Maybe she was drugged, though. Or just drunk. I dunno, but I know that she wouldn't do this sober. You know that, too," Louis tells me.

"I don't, though," I say. It hurts to say it, but it's true. "I haven't known her for that long, Louis. Only two months. Less than two months. Her birthday is in three days."

"Maybe, but you know her better than anyone. And you know she wouldn't normally do this."

"This isn't usually, Louis. We broke up," I remind him.

"We owe it to her to find out," Louis tells me. I nod.

"But if she was sober, it's over. For good."

"Fine."

Clara's P.O.V

I wake up, feeling Harry's arm around me. I open my eyes and look at the person I expected to be Harry. What the fuck? Who the hell is this guy? And why am I naked in his bed? Fuck. No. No, no, no. I untangle myself from the man's arms and stand, my legs shaking. I grab my clothing from the floor. I was at a club, obviously...And then it all comes rushing back, my amnesia gone. I got drunk and agreed to come back to Logan's apartment. Things escalated quickly and...no. We had sex? Fuck! I need to get out of here. I get dressed and leave the fucking apartment and get into a taxi. She drives me to the hotel and I run to my room, avoiding any and all papparazzi. I try to get my mind off of it and look on Twitter. I wonder what the trends are.

#ClaraHiggens=Whore

#Harry-Clara

#HarryStyles=Stupid

I click on the one about me being a whore. Like, what the fuck? I gasp at the pictures. It's me in Logan's bed. No. What if Harry saw it? What does he think of me? I pick up my phone and speed dial his number before I can even form a full thought. He picks up on the third ring.

"Harry isn't available, Clara," Louis snaps through the phone.

"No, Louis--"

"What?" he snaps. "He doesn't want your fucking apology."

"It's not like that, damn it!" I shout. "Louis, I need to talk to him."

"What, Clara?" Harry sounds so drained of emotion, it twists my heart.

"Please, let me explain," I whisper.

"I'm listening," Harry says montonously.

"I wanted to get my mind off of the...breakup...so I went to a bar, Harry. I got some strong drinks and got really drunk and I met a guy. He offered to take me back to his apartment and I agreed because I was drunk and I wasn't thinking straight. Yes, things...happened, but I was drunk and I had no idea what I was doing. He took advantage of my state and used it against me. It was partly my fault, but I didn't mean anything by it, Harry. I promise." I'm seconds away from crying.

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