FINE LINE | HARRY STYLES

THREE.

Because I can feel myself scrolling to his contact.

I shouldn't.

"This is Harry, leave a message at the beep."

"H?" I sniffle, my words are slurred. "H, I...I just listened to the new album for like the third time. I've had some wine but I promise, I think about you when I'm sober, too. I think about you all the time. I want to say those songs are about me but...they're probably not. I hope they're about me, to be honest. I just...I miss you. I really do. I'm so stupid. I should've never let this happen to you. To us. I miss your voice and I miss you so much. I'm so—"

The voicemail cuts me off with a single beep.

I drop my phone beside me and press my head against the hardwood floor I'm lying on.

And I'm out.

-

I have the worst headache ever.

Wine hangovers are always the worst. Because they're such a slow burn.

I'm in my bed. I could have sworn I passed out on my living room floor.

Maybe my cat dragged me here. Wherever the hell she is.

Opening my eyes is the worst part. The light is way too bright for me right now. I wince at it as I try to sit up.

"Oh, you're up." Blair says as she leans against the doorway.

"I don't feel...up." I grumble, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"There's Advil and water on your nightstand." She tells me as she sits on the edge of my bed.

I grab the bottle and down three pills, praying it kicks in soon. I lean against my headboard and sigh heavily.

"I did a bad thing, Blair."

Blair laughs, patting my legs.

"I know, babe. That's why I came over. When I saw you on your floor clutching a bottle of wine with your phone next to you and his album on your laptop, I knew some shit went down."

"Are you mad?" I sheepishly ask.

A child. I am a child.

"Mona, you're a grown ass woman. I'm not mad you drunk dialed your ex. We all do it." She snorts with a shrug.

It then hit me, I drunk dialed him. Which means he heard my embarrassing voicemail.

But that could also mean he replied.

"Where's my phone?" I blurt out.

Blair fishes it out of her pocket and I take it, quickly checking my notifications.

I frown. Nothing.

"He didn't bite?" She raises a brow.

"No. Maybe it's London time." I try to reassure myself.

"He's in LA, babe." Blair quietly informs me.

I feel my heart crack in half. He woke up this morning, saw my voicemail, and didn't do anything.

I should have expected it, though. He's upset with me. I ditched him for a mess of a boyfriend.

"I'm sure he wants to say something but doesn't know what to say."

"I guess." I fiddle with my fingers.

He's in LA.

Is he living here?

What if I run into him?

"Come on," Blair pulls me up, "This calls for retail therapy."

-

A couple shopping bags down the road and I still feel like crap. I mean, I can't be mad he didn't call back or even text. That's the last thing he should do.

I'm a bad person.

Blair started to notice this wasn't doing any good, so she offered to take me home. I accepted because I'd much rather be in bed.

I shouldn't let him affect me like this.

He's gone.

When I get home, Blue greets me. I shoot her a smile and drop my bags down. I feed her then throw a bag of popcorn in the microwave.

I turn to some random channel as I sit on the couch with a blanket and my laptop. Blue eventually joins me, snuggling beside my leg.

"At least I have you." I softly tell her.

Said like a crazy cat person.

There's a knock at my door. I let out a groan. If it's anyone I know they can use the spare key.

But they knock again.

I know I have to get it. So, I push everything to the side and get up, making my way to the door.

"Chill out, I'm coming."

I flip the locks and open the door to see someone standing on my front step.

I could be sick or faint. Maybe both at the same time.

***

Mona: nah i can't do it. i cannot listen to this album.

Also Mona: yo turn this bitch up!