Concerto - A Sonata Sequel (Harry Styles FanFiction)

14. I'll Pass Along the Message

    As the night wore on, Jas's control began to waver; her filter on her thoughts gradually disappearing. She'd started sobbing around two in the morning. She was frustrated and heartbroken. Darien had retreated so far inside of herself she as practically a stranger to her best friend. Her moments of clarity seemed to cut deeper the longer they lasted. Jas's hope that she was finally coming back into her old self would grow only to be crushed as Darien retreated once more to the locked recesses of her mind.

    I tried everything I could think of to distract the youngest McKenney. At some point during the night she'd insisted on trying to paint my nails; I agreed without hesitation. If it would make her smile again, I'd let her do it as often as she liked. Unfortunately though, I'd woken up to find bright red lacquer smeared across my hands and part of my face.

    "Not in the mood, Lees," Jas muttered, throwing one manicured finger into the air as she crossed the brightly lit kitchen. Her usually pristine demeanor was thrown off by the matted mess of loose curls thrown haphazardly into a ponytail. The sleeve of her ratty, oversized T-shirt fell off of her shoulder—the hem barely came to the middle of her thighs as she stumbled into the room.

    "Seems like someone slept well," I chuckled, my gaze drinking in the criminally short hem of her shirt and the appealing expanse of toned, sun-kissed skin exposed beneath. A warm shudder went through me as I thought back on the morning—waking up with her in my arms, our legs intertwined beneath her heavy comforter. I laid there, training my fingertips up and down across the bare expanse of her upper thigh as it wrapped possessively around my own. After a few short seconds, her breathing shifted and she stirred...

    My cheeks reddened at the memory.

    "My head is killing me," she groaned, digging through the refrigerator.

    "That would be the cognac."

    "You let me drink cognac?" She cradled her head in one hand, her voice breaking on the question.

    "Let, no. Mournfully watched, yes. I tried to stop you, but you wouldn't have it."

    "Fuck. Quiet—be quiet. Inside voices," she whined, still digging in the fridge. "Where's the goddamn cold brew?"

    "Okay. You—sit," I said, steering her away from the fridge and onto one of the stools on the opposite side of the kitchen island. The pitcher of coffee was tucked toward the back of the refrigerator. I poured her a glass, stirring in an obscene amount of sugar before topping it off with a splash of almond milk.

    "Take these." I dropped two ibuprofen into her open hand and she took the glass.

    "Thanks, Lees."

    "Always."

    "Any chance you've seen Dari?" Jas asked, cradling her chilled glass between her hands.

    "She ducked out about an hour ago coloring book in tow. Should we be worried?" I reached for my mug of tea.

    "No," Jas sighed. "I have a feeling I know where she went. Let me make a quick call."

    Jas shuffled back into the room a few minutes later, her relief obvious.

    "She's at the school. Dad popped by the practice rooms. She's locked in her usual space and is completely dead to the world."

    "I'm assuming by expressing this is a good thing?"

    "It means I don't have to listen to the same goddamn progression five hundred times while nursing a hangover. And, we have the house to ourselves. So yeah, I'd say it's a good thing."