Next morning is so rough that when I climb out of bed, I fear I might drop down dead. My feet hit the cold marble flooring, a small bin next to my bed that's filled with watery vomit I don't remember throwing up.
My head is pounding so hard that the room is spinning, my stomach rolls but nothing comes up—probably completely empty by now. I look down to see I'm still in my dress from last night—bad, bad sign.
I take a second, sitting on the edge of my bed to try and remember anything from last night. I can't. Well, I remember taking drugs that I now deeply regret.
I don't even know why I did it. Like, really, really do not know why. I fucking hate myself for it, I know that much. But deep down, I knew it was wrong, I was well aware that everyone would hate me for it and I still did it.
Beside my bed is a glass of water that I down within seconds to try and soothe my head. Once I'm half settled, I drag my feet across the floor, open the door and heave when I'm hit with the Miami sun beaming through the open area.
Voices come from the open balcony door so I head that way, regretting it deeply when everyone stops what they're doing to look at me. Astrid, Charlie and Mia are in the pool. Carter's sprawled out on a Sun lounger, Albie's sat at the outside bar, nursing a tumbler but I can't see George.
"Morning, sunshine," Carter calls from his bed, sunglasses on, hair a mess and skin pale—probably doesn't feel as shitty as me. No one's shocked when Carter gets on it when we go out, it's almost expected from him so there's no one for him to let down. Unlike me.
I raise my hand to block the sun and throw him my middle finger. Albie doesn't even look at me, he shifts his whole body so he's facing the view over the balcony.
A deep feeling of guilt and anxiety settles in my gut when no one says anything to me. They all kind of just stop and stare—waiting for me to say something. I suppose it's my fault, but it's not like I can go back and change what I have done.
After a few painful seconds, I turn around, walk back into the penthouse with my head down like a told-off child. As I reach my bedroom door, with my hand on the knob, I stop, turn my head and burst out into a silent sob.
George and a random girl both come stumbling out of the kitchen. His hands on her waist, tickling her as she squirms and tries to run away. I wouldn't think anything of it if she wasn't wearing his shirt. But she is. Her chest is littered with trampy-looking love bites and George's hair is all messed up—sex hair.
Thankfully, from here they can't see me. A half wall blocks their view but just as I go to open my bedroom door, the girl comes to a stop in front of me. "Oh. Sorry," she giggles, batting George's hands away from her. Fucking bullshit.
George eyes me over the girl's head, meaningless apologies passing between us. I say sorry for last night and he says sorry for last night. He also says sorry for this but I don't forgive him.
"We're going to brunch, if you want to come—" Mia takes a gulp from her lemon Vitamin Water, eyes bulging out her head as she takes in the scenario. Literally looks like she's walked in on a ludicrous threesome. "Oh, my god." She whispers.
Before a thick silence can settle over, choke and kill us, I snatch Mia's Vitamin Water from her hand. "Let me get dressed and we can go to Cecconi's. It's, like, the only thing open today."
"Yeah, yeah..." Mia trails off, eyes glued to George and this girl. "I'm sorry but she cannot come." Mia points toward her, circling her finger.
George looks the girl up and down and nods his chin at her. "Doors that way."
The girl runs off, the front door closing a moment later. My heart skips a beat when George's gaze lands on mine. I hate that my body betrays me because his face is telling me something completely different.
He hasn't forgiven me for last night.
Not that I blame him, I haven't even forgiven myself but the fact he bought a girl back? That just rips my fucking heart to pieces because he knows how much it hurts me to see him with other people.
Mia clears her throat, I blink, enter my bedroom and slam the door shut. Big mistake because now my head is pounding again. The sun isn't helping either and neither is George and nor is Albie. In fact, everything is just worsening my mood and suddenly I'm homesick and I just want my bed and maybe my sister to comfort me.
Downing the rest of Mia's Vitamin Water, I carefully make my way over to the bathroom to wash off last night's sins. My head spins as I step under the shower but I power through because no matter how rough I'm feeling, I'm not going out without a wash.
Midway through washing my hair, my bedroom door opens and my whole body tenses up. "George, I swear—"
"It's me," Astrid pipes up, popping her head around the door frame of the shower which I left open in case I fell or some shit.
"And me," Mia comes up on her tiptoes behind Astrid, waving.
Both girls enter the bathroom, Mia sitting on the sink ledge and Astrid on the closed toilet lid. "We're here for last night's debrief." Astrid claps her hands together, wiggling and getting comfy.
"Okay, well, I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to get so out of control. It just sort of happ—"
Astrid groans, "oh shut up, Harper. The only ones angry at you are the fucking Forbes because they're boring." She mutters the last bit but I still hear it.
"No, A, I think they get funny about drugs because of their mum." Mia puts a hand on Astrid's arm. "But, yeah, we're not angry at you." She speaks up so I can hear even though there's only a thin bit of glass separating us.
Well, that is a fucking relief. At least not everyone hates me. It's just annoying that the main person who I don't want to be annoyed is annoyed at me.
"I shagged Avery," Mia mentions like it's nothing. "And I came. Like, three times."
Me and Astrid both gasp, I poke my head around the glass, hair soaped up and everything. "No fucking way."
Mia nods, puffs out her chest. "Oh, yeah, bought him back here. Sofa, my bedroom and the shower."
Astrid slaps her arm, "my god, you are such a slut."
I nod my head, "the biggest slut."
She shrugs, leaning back on the counter. "Call me what you want; it was by far, the best sex of my life."
"I gave Charlie head." Astrid walks out of the bathroom, head in her hands. Me and Mia share a look before I quickly rinse off and follow her into the room.
"What?!" They both sit cross-legged on my bed while I root around in my wardrobe. "When was this?"
Astrid blows out a breath, turning all serious. "Okay, no judging?"
I walk out of my wardrobe with two dresses and lay them on my bed. "Obviously not, A. She banged a guy while one of us probably watched." I point to Mia.
She scrunches her nose up, points to me. "She shagged the love of her life's twin brother. Multiple times."
Astrid nods, "okay, it was like...not long after we got there—in one of the casino rooms. But then it got cut short because someone knocked on the door." Her cheeks are bright red when she finishes.
Me and Mia share a look, the same question bursting out of us. "...was it big?" I hold up two dresses, they both point to the one on the right.
"Like, six? Seven?" Mia pushes.
Astrid groans, falling back on the bed. "Eight, maybe? I don't know—I don't carry around a fucking measuring tape, do I?"
"Oh, my God? Eight? I might have to have a crack, A," Mia pushes off the bed and jumps on Astrid.
"Don't you fucking dare," Astrid attacks Mia's sides, her body squirming and falling off the bed, straight onto the marble floor in the room.
"You bitch," Mia rubs her head, checks for blood and all.
I strip down, throw the Chanel 1990-2000s graphic-print halterneck dress and fluff my hair out.
"How is this bitch casually wearing a fucking artefact?" Mia ties the strings behind my neck, knots it and slaps my bum.
"It's not an artefact, it's art." I correct, moving to slip on my Miria 50mm embellished sandals from Giuseppe Zanotti. "Who's coming to this brunch?"
"Just us." Mia shrugs, leaving the room, Astrid running after her. While I'm more than thankful that they're my best friends, I'm glad to be left on my own for a few minutes while they get ready.
I mean, fuck George. Really. Fuck him—rubbing some skank in my face like that. But then again, I was probably a mess last night. My throbbing head and sore nose are telling me that much.
༺༻
Kate Spade Crystal oval-frame sunglasses on, head down and trying to weave my way through the tables at Cecconi's is like mission fucking impossible. Why are so many people out on New Year's Day?
George insisted that Tony follow us to brunch because apparently, we're not capable of doing so on our own. Poor old Tony has been staying in a suite a couple floors below at George and Albie's beck and call. Pay must be amazing. He sits on a lone table a few feet away from us, keeping an eye.
"So," I clasp my hand on the table, over my menu. "Are we going to ignore the elephant in the room or...?"
Astrid looks over her menu at me, quirking her brow. "And what elephant would that be? The one from last night? The one who climbed onto Albie's lap? The one who—"
"Alright," I cut in. "There were a lot of elephants but the main one is the bitch who was with George this morning? I mean what the fuck?"
"You know," Mia starts. "I don't think he came home with her. You and Alb went back first—both passed out. Then George went back with Carter who did have a girl. And then I went back with Avery—whom I will not be seeing again. And Astrid not long after that with Charlie."
"Oh my god, why won't you be seeing Avery again?" Astrid turns to Mia, hand on her arm, a concerned look on her face. "You said he made you come three times! Three!"
My phone buzzes from the table beside me, both girls not paying attention so I pick it up.
Winter B:
Winter B - thought I'd let you know that Tilda and Heidi have gone home. Hope everything's okay, heard she wasn't feeling well x
Me - thanks, everything's fine x
I gingerly place my phone back down, ignore the feeling that tingles from my toes and put myself back into the conversation. "So are you saying George didn't sleep with her?"
They both turn to look at me, eyebrows risen and moths slightly open. "Obviously not! Was it not clear that he was just trying to piss you off? Carter probably had a go and she stayed the night. You know how he gets." Astrid waves a hand through the air, unbothered.
"What can I get you girls to drink?" A nice-looking waiter appears at our table, iPad in hand.
"Two dirty martinis," Mia points to herself then Astrid. "And one espresso martini," she points to me.
"Oh no," I'm quick to jump in. "Water for me, please."
The waiter pauses, waiting for us to make up our minds. "Yes, water please." I clarify.
"Ignore her," Mia faces me, jaw tight and teeth slack. "She'll have a martini."
With a sigh, I level the waiter with a look. "Fine. One water. One espresso martini." He gives us an awkward smile before walking off.
"I can't fucking believe you two," I mutter, flicking the side button on my phone to make sure I get any notifications from my sister or Matilda.
Astrid claps, placing her Louis Vuitton 2000s Pochette Accessoires Monogram handbag on the table, "we're in Miami. Fuck the comedown, fuck the hangover. We're doing Nobu for dinner and then LIV for round two which is only in the hotel so if you want to go back early you can." She brushes her hands down her dress (Oséree lurex-detail halterneck dress) and avoids eye contact with me.
I still feel like utter shit, my head is getting a bit better but my eyes are sensitive, my throat is red raw and my stomach is rolling. I let my head drop to the table, not bothering to answer my best friend because regardless, I'll be at the restaurant and the club.
"Oh, my God! I loved your dress at the MET!" A voice behind me has me lifting my head. A young girl stands there with her friend, both smiling wildly.
"Mhm, thank you," I shove my sunglasses down to cover my face, give them a half-arsed smile and wait till they go back to their table.
Our drinks are then put down in front of us, I go straight for the water, down it in two and order another.
My mind is still reeling I suppose, I mean it definitely is. Mia and Astrid are in deep conversation but I just cannot pull myself in to join them.
༺༻
"Look, I might have to," I explain on the Sun lounger on the balcony after brunch. Apparently sweating off a comedown or hangover is a thing so we're trying.
We being me, Astrid, Mia, Charlie and Carter because—thankfully— George and Albie and stuff to sort out at Forbes with Blake.
"Go where?" Charlie uses his hand to block the sun, still squints over at them though.
I grab my towel, water and pack of painkillers. "Home. Heidi isn't well."
Carter goes a bit funny because he knows but just nods, Astrid swims over to the edge of the pool, looking at me through strands of wet blond hair. "What! No, you can't go home! What about tonight? You're just trying to avoid George like a coward." She tilts her head, challenging me.
Blowing out a breath, I think I've finally reached my breaking point—not with Astrid. Just in general. It's way too hot, I feel nauseous, and my eyes actually hurt. And to be honest, I can't stop thinking about last night. I'm embarrassed, hurt, suffering from terrible hang-xiety and just don't know what to do with myself.
"Yes, I'm fucking avoiding him! He hates me, they probably do as well," I point to the two boys sitting at the outdoor bar. "I can't go out tonight and I definitely do not want to face him." I throw my hands about for emphasis but when I turn to walk away I feel tears wet my cheeks.
I'm so fucking tired as well. Feel like I haven't slept in days. This whole thing is just bullshit and even if it wasn't a thing already, I'd be planning a flight home.
Inside, Albie, George and Blake are all in there. Sitting around the glass coffee table with tumblers and papers sprawled about. Neither one of them spots me so I decide to stay by the door and try to listen to what they're saying.
"There's a place in Belgravia—Cul-de-Sac. Nine bedrooms, twelve bathrooms, full security. Spoke to Charl and he wants his own place which is fair but Carter can live here too. Much bigger than your old place—more practical." Blake leans forward, levelling his sons with a look.
My heart hammers in my chest as I wait to hear what they say. It's a long while before anyone else talks, my anxiety growing as I process Blake's words. He wants them to move? Granted, it's practically up the road but the house in Mayfair has so many memories.
When George was locked up, I spent more time in that house than I did my own—or my parents which is only a few doors up.
"It's not really up for a discussion, lads. You need to move, it's safer and the only option. Moving outside of London would be ideal but I know you don't want that." I poke my head around the wall, Blake's standing up and shuffling the papers away.
"I'll transfer the money from last night over to you both later on. As for now, get ready and meet me at the bar downstairs—bring Charl." Blake buttons up his blazer, leaves the penthouse.
Before I even have time to catch my breath, hands are on my shoulders. "What are you doing?" Mia jumps up, her face swinging around to mine.
Taking a deep breath, I pull my gaze away from the two boys who are muttering words to one another and shrug Mia off. "Nothing, I was just going to my room to pack."
She frowns, "are you really going home?"
We enter my room, pull my suitcase from under the bed and start throwing my stuff inside. "Yeah. And it's not because Heidi's—"
"Who's going home?" Albie pops his head around my door, George lurking behind him.
"No one—"
"Harper. Heidi's ill."
I give Mia a tired look, sigh and carry on packing. Albie lingers by the door. "Want me to come with you?"
My head snaps around to Albie standing in my doorway with George beside him now. I can't understand why he would even ask me that. But then again, he was there at the time so he understands. So was George but he hasn't offered to come back with me.
"No," I finally shake my head. "It's not like that."
George shifts, going a bit weird till he nods his chin at me. "You sure? I can have the jet ready in the next twenty minutes otherwise you'll have to get the next commercial flight out."
I grab my things from the bathroom and dump them into my case. "Commercial is fine. First class isn't actually that terrible." I swivel my head around to George but really I'm talking to them both.
I grew up flying commercial—first class with my family. Since my dad's a lawyer—has connections with the Prime Minister and shit, we, as a family, had a reputation to uphold. Would've looked a bit shit if my dad was standing with all the global warming activists and then hopped on a private jet.
The Forbes have a jet, helicopter too actually. The West's also have a plane but Theo and Daisy never really leave the country anyway.
"You're being stupid, Haysie. I'll call dad and have him sort the jet out," George insists but it only bothers me more.
"Stop fucking calling me that, George." I snap, intentionally too because I'm pissed off at him. Thinking he can come back into my life and start ordering me around.
He pulls back, appalled. "What the fuck? I came up with the name."
"You never! Esmè Evans on my netball team at Herongate did, actually." I plant my hands on my hips, lift my chin up—my packing forgotten.
Mia and Alb share looks before walking away, leaving the two of us alone—big mistake on their part.
"You're bullshitting. It was me—I fucking invented the name!" George pushes his hands through his hair, tugging on the strands and suddenly I don't think we're arguing about a nickname anymore.
"Yeah, well, whatever! Stop calling me it." I wave my hand at him, go back to packing but he still stands there.
"Why?"
I spin around, heart jumps to my throat as it normally does when I look at him—this dangerous, feared, scarred, beautiful man that I've spent the better half of my life loving unconditionally. "Why what?"
"Why should I stop calling you that? Is it because it reminds you of when you used to love me? Of how we used to be?" He presses, eyebrows slightly furrowed.
"What? What are you talking about, George?" I huff, hands on my hips and eyes locked on his forehead and the little bits of hair that hang down because I don't trust myself to look him in the eye anymore. Not after all I've done to him.
"Just let me come back to London with you, Harper," he pleas, eyes bigger now—begging.
"I don't need you to—in fact, I'd rather go on my own." It's final but it's a lie. Please come back with me, please.
A moment of silence between us allows me to gather the last of my things, clip my hair back and get ready to walk out of the door.
"Tough shit, Haysie. I'm coming with you." George nods his head, spins around and when he's out of sight I nearly cry in relief. Not sure why he's being like this since last night we both fucked each other up but I suppose that's just us. In a way, it sort of always has been.
I wheel my suitcase through into the living room where everyone's chatting. Something about Carter being felt up by an Instagram influencer who's twice his age and has a husband.
"Nah, I swear! The fucking rock was on her finger when she slid her hand over my cock," he throws his hands up, looks around and spots me standing there. "Oh—Haysie!"
"I'm going back to London with George because Heidi isn't feeling well," I announce because what else do I say? Sugarcoat it?
"Want me to come?" Albie gets up from the sofa, ready to go and pack his bags right now. "It's no problem."
"I can come as well if you want? Bring the whole fucking calvary back home," Carter offers me a warm smile because they all know. They were all there when it happened.
"No, no. It's not like that—she's fine. I sort of want to go back anyway after last night. But I'll ring in the morning if that makes you feel better."
Carter stands up, wraps his arms around me, "it makes me feel so much better, Haysie."
George appears from his room then, taking my suitcase from my hand. "The plane's ready, so we can go whenever."
I pull away from Carter, say goodbye to everyone else and promise that everything will be fine. I don't want to make a big deal out of it partially because I don't want to think about it. Astrid and Mia would've happily come back with me but there's no reason for everyone to come.
Me and George arrive at the airport half an hour later, the jet waiting for us as soon as we climb out of the SUV. It's a much, much smaller jet—not the one we took out here.
"Who's plane is this?" I ask, getting comfy on the beige leather seat opposite his.
"You don't just think my family own one jet, do you?" He laughs, taking a glass of champagne from the air hostess and nodding his head in thanks.
I take the flute she offers me with a smile, "you play with money like your life is a game. It baffles me." I mutter but he catches it.
"My life is one big game of Monopoly, Haysie and you're my get-out-of-jail-free pass, how haven't you caught on yet?" He cocks his head, smug and powerful and possessive and rich and mine—always been mine and always will be, I think—I hope.
Rolling my eyes, I brace myself for take-off and stare over at him. "I'm still pissed at you for last night. I mean Summer Thorne, George? Really? That's low. Even for you."
"You shagged my twin fucking brother, Harper. Like actually had full-on sex with my twin. I don't think it gets much worse." George shakes his head, probably disgusted, probably disappointed. Either way, it fucking stings.
It stings so much that I end up coming up empty for a reply. What am I to say? Sorry, it won't happen again? Or, sorry it happened in the first place?
I silently wait for him to apologise but after about thirty minutes when we're way up in the air and he leaves to use the bathroom, I give up all hope. He meant what he said.
Maybe it was also retaliation for last night—the drugs. But what more can I do than say sorry? Have I already apologised? I can't remember, truthfully.
When George returns from the bathroom, I shift, hold my head high and clear my throat. "I'm sorry for last night and I'm sorry for shagging your brother."
His eyes focus in on me, his lips tilting upwards. "Yeah? I'm fucking sorry too, Haysie. Really sorry, yeah? Fuck I shouldn't have said what I said earlier."
"Nope, it's fine. I'm a big girl—I'm not going to let your words hurt me anymore." With my nose in the air and my confidence at an all-time high, since it's just me and him, I speak my truth. "I don't even know why I started seeing Albie. It was so wrong, didn't even feel right half the time."
"Don't say that. I know I upset you and I know, deep down you're hurt by what I said. Read you better than a book." He opens his arms and beckons me over with a nod of his head. "Come here."
I do. Without a second thought, I climb onto his lap and into his arms because it's what I know. It's what I'm familiar with and it's what I've been craving for the past almost three years. What do you expect when you dangle meat in front of a tiger?
"You'll be alright and so will she," he promises—well, I hope it's a promise because I don't think I'll be able to deal with anything but Heidi being okay.
༺༻
I hate the things these characters say and do sometimes.
Word count - 4460.