Perspective || Harry Styles

18~ Innocent Faces

***Cara’s Point of View***

“Oh, God, I hope she’s okay. What if she’s not okay? They got her drunk! I wonder how much she drank, oh my gosh, she’s such a lightweight. I wonder what their intentions were, ugh. Harry was right. Harry was so right. Peter…that asshole…I swear when I see him I’ll….I’ll…”

“You need to calm down,” Louis said lowly, glancing at the cab driver who literally could not care less about the conversation taking place in the backseat of his vehicle. Louis rested a hand on my shoulder and promised me everything would be okay, but who could blame me for being worried?

My mind kept wandering back to mental images of Peter. I never paid much attention to the kid, but I always imagined him as a nice guy. Maybe that was just the influence of Grace’s high depiction and incessant conversation about him.

I never knew him. I could never place a personality to that innocent face, but if I had to I never would’ve suspected it to be like this. A cruel, conniving, perverted boy who plays girls for his own entertainment. It brought back overwhelming memories of Dean, and I hated the thought of my best friend almost ending up in a situation like mine.  

As the cab came to a stop in front of my beloved home, I received a text from Niall letting me know that Jeff knew we had been gone all day, but surprisingly didn’t blow up about it. I’m sure he was screaming on the inside, overtaken by frustration, but I actually didn’t give a single fuck about Jeff’s reaction.

Louis paid the cab fare and we walked up the front steps. I opened the door, since we never really lock the doors when we’re home, and quietly walked up to my room with Louis right behind me.

I prayed we didn’t run into my mother, and thankfully we didn’t.  She was usually sleeping by this time anyway, but these days she was apparently unpredictable. Drinking was unlike her, and I wondered how life was right now. Living with my mother when she wasn’t always so put together. I was so young during her alcoholic stage that to this day I thankfully couldn’t remember much of it. She’s been on top of things and abnormally organized ever since.

“How is she?” I asked Harry as soon as the door was shut.

I could see Grace lying there on my bed, completely passed out. Her mascara was smeared below her eyes. Her lipstick was smudged. Her hair was in tangles. Her dress was askew. She was an utter mess, and I had never seen her look like that before. Not in this way, at least.

“She’ll be okay,” he said. I nodded, concerned for my best friend. “What the hell are you two wearing?”

Louis and I looked at each other, then down at our own apparel. In the midst of everything I had actually forgotten about our brilliant costumes.

“We went out to explore New York for the day,” I explained.

“Are you insane?”

“Yes, but that has nothing to do with this. No one recognized us. Literally no one.”

“It was actually nice,” Louis commented, smiling.

Harry looked from him to me, then rolled his eyes and dropped the subject.

“Actually,” I said, only now noticing the dress that Harry decided to wear to the party. “I should be asking you the same question.”

He looked guilty, and I knew he remembered the exact moment when I told him not to wear that specific scrap of clothing in public. And here he was.

“I told you not to wear it,” I reminded him through gritted teeth, although I was positive he didn’t need to be reminded.

“I figured you wouldn’t find out.”