inspirations // harry styles

chapter fifteen // hungover.

"Morning," I groan back, my voice sounding rough and scratchy. I hear him chuckle lightly, but he unsuccessfully tries to hide it with coughing, "It's not funny," I moan.

I could literally sink into the recliner I plop myself into, ready to just die of embarrassment. The fact that Harry's still finding it amusing is the worst part.

"I'm sure it's not. You were pretty far-gone last night," He comments, amusement lighting up his words.

What a great impression I'm giving my brand-new boyfriend. He probably thinks I'm this inexperienced little girl that can't handle one single night out. Who knows if he'll ever want me to go to a Girl's Night Out ever again. That is, if they ever invite me again. I suppose I owe them an apology...

"I wasn't that bad, was I?" I cringe. Do I even want to hear the answer? Perhaps it's better to just live in the dark and never know exactly what happened last night...

As Harry hesitates, I get all the answer I need. I let out a groan, ready to just dig myself a hole and never resurface.

"You were just... very sick," He explains, trying to make it sound less awful than it really is.

Oh no. I've never been known for having a strong stomach. I can't believe that I got sick in front of him. How incredibly attractive I'm sure that was.

I bet I'm never going to hear the end of this from the other boys. I can just picture Louis writing up all these great puke jokes as we speak.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry you had to deal with me last night," I apologize, not understanding why he hasn't kicked me to the curb yet.

I probably was the sloppiest mess he had ever laid eyes on; and he's a celebrity, so that's saying something.

"No, don't worry, I like taking care of you," He says softly, whipping out the usual romantic comment that could make me pass out as he often does. My stomach does small, little flips as my cheeks turn a light pink. I can't help but to sit here and grin like an idiot.

How did I get so lucky? I find myself asking that question more often than not. I had become so used to Tate treating me like crap that I forget what it's really like to be treated like a girl should. Would Tate had sit up with me as I got sick all night? Hell no!

"I've got to go, but we're almost done in the studio for the day. You should stick around the apartment for a little while longer until I get home and we can lazy around together? I promise nothing too rowdy, we've got to give you time to recover," He suggests.

I can hear the jumble in the background. I'm sure he wasn't supposed to even take my call at all, but he did it anyway.

"I suppose, I mean I was planning on going out and running a marathon and - " I start to sarcastically remark, but I stop myself, "Nope, even the thought of it is going to make me sick," I shake my head, my stomach feeling a bit queasy.

Harry lets out a loud laugh, one of his incredibly contagious ones, and brings a smile to my face, despite the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.

"I'll see you soon, love," He speaks quickly, obviously being rushed, "Feel better," He quickly tells me before handing up.

Setting my phone down, I pull the lever on the side of the recliner, stretching out the comfty chair. I grab the blanket off of the couch - where I can bet Harry had slept last night, much to my disapproval - and cover up.

I turn on the tv to catch up on some current events, when a tabloid reporter's words catch my attention,

"Last night, Harry Styles' new official girlfriend - confirmed by Simon Cowell himself - was spotted going out with the other girlfriends of the One Direction boys,"