Cliché || H.S.

Chapter 18

Harry sighs, relief flooding his face, he lets out a low chuckle before grabbing my hand, "c'mon, let's go." I practically skip out of the club, my mind only set on the pizza while Harry drags me by my hand.

I take a refreshing breath when we get outside, the cold night air feeling euphoric after the heat inside the club. Even though it's well past midnight, New York stays true to its reputation as the city that never sleeps. The sidewalks are full of people, but none pay us any mind as I cling to Harry's arm trying to keep myself up right.

We only have to walk one block before I spot what I'm looking for and pick up my pace, dragging Harry with me. I'm so hungry. When we walk in, the two teenagers working look between us with a shocked expression on their faces. "Harry why are they looking at us like that," I half whisper to him while walking up to the counter.

"Lilian I don't think the rich and famous usually spend their money on a dollar slice of pizza," Harry chuckles. I just shrug and turn to the boy behind the counter and order a slice for Harry and I each. More people should really eat here. It's disgusting but in the best way possible.

"Um I really hate to bother you, but could I get a picture with you Lilian? I'm a huge fan," The boy asks shyly. I'm sure it's the alcohol flowing through me, but the question feels like the nicest thing anyone has ever asked me, even though I get the question everyday."Yes! Get over here! Harry, take the boy's phone," I snatch the phone from the boy's hand and toss it at Harry to take the picture. I pose next to the boy with my slice of pizza and take the picture before we take another one with me kissing his cheek.

"How old are you?" I ask the boy as I bite into my pizza. He returns to his spot behind the counter.

"Um," he starts nervously, "sixteen."

"You're too sweet. You know what? Take this, you deserve it," I say while digging into my clutch. I pull out the first bit of cash I see, a hundred dollar bill, and press it into his hand. He looks at me with a shocked expression, stuttering a thanks. I wave it off and tell him it's no big deal before Harry and I leave out the door with our slices of pizza in hand.

Walking down the street towards Harry's apartment I have one arm latched to Harry and I'm focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. You can do this, you're not even that drunk. I desperately want to take off my heels but there's no way I'm doing that in this city. Harry takes the trash from my hands and throws it away. "We don't have to walk the whole way," he tells me, "I can call us a cab."

"No way. This walk is sobering," I hold my arms out wide to show him I can walk on my own. I feel myself teetering, but keep myself upright. Suddenly my heel hits a crack in the sidewalk and I feel myself going down. Harry reaches his arms around me to get me upright before I can hit the sidewalk. I roll my ankle in the process and pain instantly bursts through.

"I'm calling a cab," Harry states, still holding me upright.

"No I told you I'm fine," I'm practically limping but I try my best to disguise it. I flash him a smile before kissing his cheek to try and sell it.

"Fine, but I saw you roll your ankle. Hop on my back," he stops in the middle of the sidewalk and refuses to move until I jump up and wrap my legs around his waist. I can't help but giggle the entire walk back, thinking about how stupid I must look getting a piggy back ride from Harry Styles in the middle of the night in a dress that probably cost the same as my first car. I miss that car... I wish there was a dog I could pet right now.

As soon as we get to Harry's apartment I throw myself onto his bed like a starfish and close my eyes. The room spins behind my eyelids, but it only gets worse when I open my eyes and it takes several moments for things come back into focus. I contemplate getting up in case I have to throw up, but the wave of nausea passes quicker than it came.

Harry begins to unbuckle my shoes and takes them off of my feet. "Did you have fun tonight?" He asks lightly, an accusing smile on his face.

"Oh yeah. Did you know that Katy Perry collects hair? She asked if she could have a piece of mine," I recall the odd interaction we had at the club.

"Well did you give it to her?" He asks curiously, a smile dancing on his face.

"Yeah why not? But I told her if she sells it she has to split the profits with me."

Harry chuckles before sitting next to me on the bed. He leans over and starts peeling the large false lashes from my eyes. I grab his face in between both hands to hold him still, "you, Harry Styles, are the best guy in the whole world." I tell him. He really is cute. And so nice... nice to look at. I laugh to myself, my internal monologue the funniest thing in the world at that moment. 

I pull his face towards me and kiss every inch of it over and over. He lets me squeeze his face and actually giggles. "Harry Styles you make my heart do weird flutter things," I slur. He begins to blush and it makes me want to squeeze him into a hug. 

"Ditto. Where's your makeup remover, love?" He asks, pulling away from me.

I point through the bathroom door and he leaves me to go look through my bag. That's the last thing I remember, because by the time he gets back I'm already asleep.