The Other Man [Book One]

Chapter 2 - Hangover

"Hello?" I croaked into my phone, half-asleep and disoriented.

There had been way too many glasses of wine and champagne consumed at the party, so my head pounded and spun as the remaining alcohol wreaked its havoc. Glancing at the clock on my bedside cabinet, I saw it was almost ten in the morning and that Will, as usual, had left without saying goodbye.

"Hey,l." Rose's voice was just as croaky, but for an entirely different reason, with the flu making her suffer for a third day. "When you stop by, can you bring some chicken soup from that delicatessen you get coffee from? It's the only thing I can think about trying to eat."

I sat up and rubbed my eyes, regretting it instantly as one became glued together with the previous nights mascara. I'd completely forgotten I was supposed to go look after her, and cheer her up. The one saving grace, given my current state, was that at least she wouldn't be up to doing much.

"Sure, not a problem. I'll be there in an hour or so."

"Thank you, you're the best! Oh, and you can tell me about the rest of your night with Mr. Styles."

My cheeks flushed briefly at the memory of talking to Harry Styles the previous night. I already regretted how rude I had been, and couldn't believe how I'd almost let the open bar get the better of me by falling for his smooth talking.

-

After a quick shower, I felt a little better; my stomach still churned, and as I stepped outside the sunshine made my retinas feel like they were on fire, but the walk to my usual deli wasn't as painful as I thought it was going to be. In fact, the late February air was rather refreshing.

"A large coffee, a hot chocolate with everything, and a large chicken soup to go, please." I managed a weak smile to the girl behind the counter - who looked like she was more hungover than I was - so there was a brief moment of solidarity as she keyed my order into the till.

"Layla?" I froze, silently praying I'd misheard my name. "Hey!"

The hand on my elbow I couldn't ignore.

Turning around, I came face to face with the last person I wanted to see. My blonde hair was a tangled, damp mess on top of my head, I still had the remnants of the previous night's make-up on, and I was wearing a paint-splattered denim shirt and jogging bottoms with a hole in the knee. I was movie-marathon-with-my-ill-friend-while-I-eat-an-entire-pack-of-chocolate-hobnobs dressed, not meet-the-hot-boybander-who-drunkenly-tried-to-chat-me-up-last-night dressed.

Harry gave a toothy grin, then leaned in to kiss my cheek. I heard my hungover sister behind the counter yelp, but I ignored her despite wanting to turn around and launch into a huge explanation that it wasn't what it looked like.

"Hey, you! What a surprise." Sounding far more cheerful than I felt, I wanted to run. But Rose needed her soup, and I sure as hell needed my coffee. "Do you live nearby?"