D A Y L I G H T

Chapter Two

U N E D I T E D

I was definitely delirious.

I couldn't find any possible reason why Henry would be shirtless, and Spencer would be in the middle of the road, dancing with some girl in a red dress and lastly where my car had disappeared off to. Or why Henry looked so terribly panicked.

I felt pressure on my head and unusual warmth on the side of my face. "I'm putting pressure on it, Harlow. Can you hear me?" My eyes kept fluttering, and I couldn't focus them on Henry's face. Then there was too much noise, it was everywhere pounding through my ears, the air was full of wind chimes. Ringing around us.

"What happened?" I slurred. My neck felt too weak to hold up my head. My lungs felt empty, seriously empty like I couldn't fill them with enough air at once, and talking was a struggle.

Henry held up my head for me, "You can't remember." He stated, as more panic leaked into his expression. I looked back to Spencer in the middle of the road, but he was tilting to the side, or wait? Was I tilting?

My mind was reeling with information that I couldn't process. Henry's blurred face appeared in my line of sight. He was leaning over me. "I need you to calm down."

"I'm calm."

But I wasn't.

In fact, I had never felt so panicked before. My heart was running a marathon around my body, there was a distinct ringing in my ears, my head felt like it weighed a ton and my lungs certainly wouldn't fill up with air. It was safe to say I was anything but calm.

"You've hit your head, Harlow. Can you sit for me?"

I scoffed, "I'm not your dog."

Henry looked relieved like a flood gate had opened and all the weight was lifted off his shoulders. I reluctantly obliged, allowing him to pull up most of my weight and place me against a lamp post.

He sat down next to me and slung an arm around my shoulder, "Sorry about your car."

And with that, it all came flooding into my memory.

I threw my head into my hands, muttering a quick profanity. "I can't afford another fucking car." This was definitely proving to be a horrible night. I might just become a recluse. Living in my house. Never go on another night out again.

That was a lie.

"This is Spencer's fault." I hissed. Throwing my hands towards the boy dancing in the middle of the road with some stranger. No worries at all, it wasn't as if he had just puked all over my now non-existent car.

Henry sighed, rubbing my shoulder with his hand. "No, it's not."

"Whatever."

My head was bandaged, wrapped with Henry's shirt. I only realised when some of his armpit hair brushed against my arm too. "You need a shirt."

I pulled it from my head with ease, ignoring the defiant pain it caused. Gasping at it. "Oh my God, am I actually bleeding this much?" I swear this was more blood outside my body than currently in it.

His white shirt was now red with blood. "Henry, this is Armani." I handed it back to him, my lips pulled in a tight line.

He shrugged, "Not my favourite one, no worries." I didn't complain again when he tied it back to my head.

I sighed as Spencer began to come over to us. The girl followed with him, I wasn't able to recognise her. Only recognise the fact she was flat out drunk. Off her face. Almost too drunk. Or maybe she was fucked out of her mind on drugs. Who knows? Either way, there was something gorgeously compelling and completely wrong with her.