"I think I'm going to need a wheelchair to walk around the office today," Grace grumbles in my ear through the phone speaker.
"You do not need a wheelchair," I laugh, "I can't believe you let him use his whole han–"
"Don't remind me!" she whines, making me pull the phone away to laugh. "Do you think he'll want to see me again?"
"I think he'll have to see you again. He might've left something important up there," I joke, trying to keep my snickering to a minimum.
"You're not helping me, I'm embarrassed!"
I cover my mouth to hold in my thoughts, quickly learning that I can't contain myself. "Like a kangaroo..." I mumble, hoping she won't catch what I said.
"I am not a kangaroo!" The office doors open, revealing a very hungover Grace. She keeps the phone to her ear and I keep mine there too. She stumbles over to my desk, walking cautiously across the polished floor, as stiff as a Barbie but looks the exact opposite.
"I've gotta go, there's a very sick woman in front of me." I smile at her and hang up the phone, tossing it to my desk. "Sunglasses inside and you're wearing pants. This is a new low for you, Gracie."
"Yeah, well I'm afraid if I wear a skirt my fucking uterus is going to fall out, you asshole." She pulls the sunglasses off, not looking at me as they exit her face.
My mouth drops open with a loud gasp. "Holy fucking shit, Grace! Did he give you a black eye?!" I stand from my chair, the wheels rolling back and hitting the window wall. I grab my phone, ready to call Harry to explain to him why his friend is about to be murdered by me.
"Keep your voice down, Brinna!" She winces, "No, he... okay yes, but not on purpose!" She grabs a nearby chair and brings it around my desk, sitting next to me with her hands shielding her face from other people in the office.
"What does that even mean?" I say, unlocking my phone and pulling up Harry's contact information.
She sighs, rubbing her temples with closed eyes. "When we were you know, he had me in midair, facing away from him, and he was going at it, right? Okay well, I had some lotion on, and it made his hands slick from our sweat mixing with it, and I fucking fell off of him and smacked into the floor." She rolls her eyes, glaring at me like she's daring me to say something.
"Oh my..." A laugh bursts from my throat as I scramble to shut up. "I'm so sorry, oh god," I say, physically pinching my lips shut. "Are you... did you... I have so many questions," I mumble around my fingers.
"Yes, I'm fine, and yes I finished." She smirks now, having a hard time holding back her own amusement. She's trying to be mad but the longer we sit here, the more tension is building like a volcano waiting to erupt.
The two of us look at each other in silence for a few seconds more before we both burst out into a full fit of laughter, snorting and tearing up. I'm sure everyone is watching us now, we probably look like dying hyenas, cackling so loud we could wake up the other half of the world.
"Brin! Brinna, he's so tall my whole life flashed before my eyes!" She laughs, holding her chest and falling back into her chair. "And we were so shitfaced we just kept going on the floor, I feel like I got into a car accident!" She swipes under her eyes to rid of the moisture.
I try to catch my breath but the image of the two of them flopping around has me laughing even harder. "You're fucking crazy," I shake my head, "His place or yours?" I ask, curious to know if her father knows about Niall. I'm sure he's aware of his daughter's adventures but they're usually all rich kids like her, not frat boys she dragged home from sketchy clubs.
"His. Daddy would have killed me if he heard the two of us." She blows a raspberry, "We got a noise complaint from his neighbor. He lives in a single house, B. They heard us across the street!"
"Did he see you when you came home?" I lean back in my own chair, arms crossed and biting my lip.
She nods with wide eyes. "Oh yeah, he sure did. He was leaving for work as I came home. God, you should have heard how mad he was when I came in drunk and limping! Diamond Grace, I raised you better, Diamond Grace, this is bad for business!" she mocks him, pointing her finger out and deepening her voice.
"You're right, this is very bad for business," Jillian's angry voice makes the two of us jump, straightening up to turn to her.
She's standing in front of my desk, hair slicked back into a bun and tight black dress visually expressing her pent-up hatred toward me lately. Her glasses hang low on her nose while a hand rests on her hip. In the other is a magazine, held out toward me.
I reach my hand out to take it, but she smacks it on my desk before I can. My eyes widen at the front page. Grace leans in to get a better look at it too, making a barely audible 'oooh' noise. My fingers ghost over the paper, subconsciously hoping I can wipe away the visuals.
Three photos from last night, blown up on the front page of our competitor's magazine. The largest one is a picture taken from a strange angle of the lounge, Lola is stretched along the couch while Zayn hugs her tail and pets it. Grace is leaning over a table, snorting what seems to be cocaine while Niall holds her hips on his lap. Louis is making out with a girl whose face is away from the camera, luckily.
A smaller picture in the middle of the right side is Harry sucking on my neck after Grace and I danced, my face full of drug-induced pleasure.
The last picture, in the bottom left corner, is of me and Grace on the dance floor, Grace's underwear in my fist as the two of us make out.
My heart sinks at the sight in front of me, like it's physically being ripped out of my body. My worst nightmare, printed on the front page of a snark editorial. It's clear in every photo that we're all on something, and now I get to live with the visual that I let my addiction take over and the rest of Vegas gets to see it, too. Tears brim my eyes as I look at Grace, who seems shocked only because she's usually told before she ends up in articles.
"Does anyone want to explain why pieces are being written about me?" Jill asks, making my eyes furrow on her. She flicks hers back down to the page.
Chief Editor Jillian Wood Recommends Best Place to Get a Fix, according to her employees.
My mouth drops even more, the realization setting in that I truly am no better than my parents and now there's proof of it. I let myself get too comfortable, and now my worth is tainted and set in stone from images none of us knew were being captured. A moment in time that shouldn't have happened, forever plastered right on the front cover.
"At least we look hot..." Grace whispers next to me.
"The two of you represent me! This is absolutely unacceptable! You've completely discredited my reputation and I expect you to apologize and fix this! I've worked so hard to build this company and two little whores won't be ruining this for me!" she yells, her voice booming through the entire room. My eyes stay down at the magazine, images slowly blurring from hot tears spilling from my eyes.
"And you!" She directs her anger at me. "I should have known you would open your legs to any man who walked in this building! How dare you throw yourself on someone who clearly doesn't want you!" she barks, tears only wetting my face even more.
The office door slams against the wall. "Don't fucking talk to my girlfriend like that, you nasty bitch." Harry strides toward the three of us. His height topples over Jill's by a landslide, his angry features making her cower. "I suggest you get the fuck away from them while I still give you the chance to," he mutters through clenched teeth.
Grace's mouth drops open with a smile, but my lips stay trembling. I sniffle, trying to wipe away the tears before he can see them. His heavy shoes walk around my desk and Jill's heels patter back to her private office. My head is down, hair curtained around my face. A pair of black boots stop in front of my feet before strong, ringed hands gently hold my knees.
Harry bends down in front of me, tucking my hair behind my ear. "Baby... hey... don't cry," he says softly, a stark difference from how he spoke to my boss only moments earlier. He grabs my chin and pulls my face to look at him. "Don't let her get to you, she isn't saying anything truthful... she's only trying to hurt you." His sympathetic expression only grows as more tears threaten to spill out of my puffy eyes.
"It's the..." Grace winces, "...the magazine," she whispers, gesturing at the article on my desk. The mention makes me sniffle, the hand on my leg tightening as my breakdown threatens to become too much.
His head turns, a deep sigh leaving his plump lips as he glances over it. He stands, ripping the entire magazine in two and throwing it in my trash can. I look up at him confused. Is he mad at me for it? I didn't mean to do anything that could hurt him.
Now his business looks like it's for addicts and whores, all because I couldn't control myself. He probably hates me right now and I can't stop crying like the selfish bitch I am. He shouldn't have to take care of me when he's really here to end whatever we have going on, I'm sure.
"Brinna, look at me," he says, leaning back down slightly in front of my chair. I slump back into it, moving only my eyes to meet his. "I took care of it. It's not in any store, no one can purchase it," he starts, pushing the hair back out of my wet face. "I was hoping you wouldn't have to see it, but... I told you I'll always take care of you, Treasure. I promise. No more tears, please."
"Y-you, you what?" I look up at him fully now, brows raised in confusion.
"As soon as I saw it this morning, I took care of it. Everyone knows what happens in Sin City nightclubs, but that wasn't fair to you. You shouldn't have been blasted like that." He shakes his head. "I even found the guy that took the pictures and I made sure he suff–said he was sorry. He won't be doing that again."
"You're not mad at me?"
"Why would I be mad at you?" he questions, standing up and pulling my wrists to come with him. He wraps my arms around his neck, looping his own around my hips. "You didn't do anything wrong." He pecks my lips but his sweetness only makes my lip tremble again.
He doesn't even know that I did do something wrong, I've told him the vaguest information I could about my parents, but he doesn't know the extent of it. I'm sure he would think I'm being ridiculous if he knew the entire story. He doesn't have to worry about things like I do, and I envy him for it.
I sniffle again, trying to suck the tears back up into my ducts. I have an entire day of work to do and I can't act like this the whole time. "Thank you," I mumble, swiping under my eyes with my hands.
"Come on, I'm taking you home." He pulls away from our hug to grab my hand.
I take it but stand still in my spot, not following him like he intended. "I can't just leave, Harry." I shake my head.
"You're upset and I'm not leaving you here for the lizard to treat you like shit the second I leave," he says sternly.
"I have to work, I have bills to pay. I can't just leave over hurt feelings."
"Okay so consider them paid, Grace do you want to come with us?" He brushes off my conflict, moving away from it before I can interject.
"Nah, Daddy is already mad. Plus, if I stay here, I can use Jill's attitude to make him feel bad for me." She shrugs, filing her nails with an emery board I didn't see her pull out.
"Alright, call us if you need anything," He goes to turn away, but I stop him.
"I'm not leaving."
He sighs, a small smile forming on his lips. "My stubborn little Bandit," he coos, pressing his lips into mine. I reciprocate the action, feeling my sadness drift away until he pulls back. "What if I'm having a bad day and I need you, hmm? Will you come with me if I tell you I'm here because you make me feel better?"
My expression drops, not believing him. He knows I'm a people pleaser and he's using it against me. He wants to flip the narrative so I feel the need to take care of him, and fuck, it's working.
"Fine," I grumble with an eye roll.
"Mm, so sweet of you," he laughs, pulling me toward the door.
__
Harry drove us to my apartment mostly in silence, the soft hum of music filling the quiet. His hand stayed on my leg while his thumb drew soothing patterns. My eyes were heavy from post-cry sleepiness. The sunshine and his touch weren't helping me stay awake, and by the time we made it to my place, he had to wake me up from my nap.
I don't think he minded though, he seemed to enjoy kissing me until I finally opened my eyes. "You know what they say about waking up princesses like that?" He grins, lashes fluttering in the morning beams. "It can only be done with a true love kiss..." he murmurs, shaking his curls in the crook of my neck while I hold the back of his head. "Is there something you need to confess to me, Brinna?" He pulls away, wiggling his eyebrows.
My cheeks heat as I push him back over the center console. "You're such a dork," I laugh, unbuckling my seatbelt as he does the same. We get out together and find each other's hand before walking up the grass to my door. I stop a few feet away, my home being blocked by things on my welcome mat.
"Tadaaa," he sings out, clearly enjoying my reaction to the giant bouquet of red roses with a teddy bear sitting in the middle of the flowers. some of the roses have gems in the center and the entire arrangement is wrapped in silky white ribbon. He steps in front of me, picking up the bouquet leaning against my door and hands them to me properly.
As I look closer, the sparkling embellishments are definitely not plastic like I had thought and I hope to God they're just glass, but the way they're reflecting off the sunlight is telling me otherwise. Upon further inspection, the fuzzy teddy bear has a mini version of Harry's silver cross necklace around its neck. I smile at the little critter, in complete shock at the exquisite gift in my hands.
"They're beautiful," I gush. "But you don't have to keep buying me flowers, Harry. I don't need all of these expensive gifts." I don't want him to think that I'm using him for money, or for presents. I appreciate everything he does, and I wouldn't want him to go away if the gifting did. It makes me a little uncomfortable to think about how much he spends on all of these flowers though, I know something like this one is custom-made and not cheap.
"I figured you were tired of looking at those boring blue ones by now," he says nonchalantly, clearly holding back his excitement. "Now come on, open up your kingdom, princess."
I shuffle the flowers to the crook of my arm and use my free hand to dig my keys out of my purse. I unlock the door, letting him walk in first as I follow after him. He looks around the living room like he's still not convinced it's right. I'm sure it's a bit overwhelming to anyone who isn't used to it, but I like having so many things to look at around the walls.
We take off our shoes and he follows me to my kitchen so I can replace my wilting flowers, a pout forming on my lips as I put the hydrangeas in my trashcan. He chuckles at my reaction before turning to look at my menu wall. He pulls his lip between his fingers, grazing over a few of the food options.
A knock lands on my door which makes my brows furrow, but before I can step away from my roses, Harry strides over to it. He's quick to grab something with minimal words, turning back to face me with the item behind his back. I give him a questioning look, to which he grins and pulls out a white bag.
"Tadaaa!" he says again, revealing to me that he either ordered food or he really is magic.
"Harry!" I scold, shaking my head as he walks toward me.
"What? You can't expect me to be sad and not eat. Let me have my moment, Bandit!" He winks, pulling out the two containers and plastic forks. "It's pasta, everyone loves pasta." He nudges a bowl toward me and I take it, walking around him to my living room.
It's a little strange having someone here when I should be having a breakdown over my fuck up like I usually do. I feel kind of tired, but other than that, I've mostly forgotten about how awful I felt in the office. Harry being here might be a good thing, at least I don't have to be alone if I do end up curled into bed, drowning myself in tears.
I plop onto the couch, patting the seat next to mine. "Come on then, come be sad with me." We eat our food, watching my comfort movie as we do so. I keep the lights off so the room is dark besides the TV screen.
"Jenny didn't deserve him." He shakes his head disapprovingly, twirling noodles around his fork.
"No?" I challenge, "You think she hurt him on purpose?"
"She used him for temporary happiness but left him the second anything better came along. She strung him along while he waited for her his entire life. She got to do whatever she wanted, while he had to stay in line until she was ready for him. He's too good for her."
I ponder over his words, trying to see it the way he does. I guess he's kind of right, Forrest did wait for Jenny, and despite all of her running away and around, he was always there when she needed him. "And then she just dies in the end. Left him before all of his efforts could be rewarded," I think out loud, tilting my head at the two of them making love on the screen.
He shifts in his seat uncomfortably, the two of us completely focused on the movie. Our forks stop moving, only the sounds of our shallow breathing being heard along with the dialogue.
"Will you marry me? I'd make a good husband, Jenny," Forrest mumbles, shifting uncomfortably on his feet.
"You would, Forrest," she agrees.
"But you won't marry me."
"You don't want to marry me." She shakes her head.
"Why don't you love me, Jenny? I'm not a smart man, but I know what love is." He turns, leaving their home.
"Forrest, I do love you."
I clear my throat, standing up and reaching my hand out for Harry's bowl. He blinks away his expression, handing me the empty container with a shy thank you. His face is something nearly unreadable, a slew of emotion I haven't seen on him before. He looks like he's seen a ghost but at the same time, like this cheesy movie is hitting him close to home.
I stand at my kitchen counter, watching him as he stares intently forward. The scene where Forrest is standing over Jenny's grave is playing, one that always tugs at my heart even if she did do wrong to Forrest. Her stone reads Jenny Gump because, despite everything, he married her like he wanted to. He's crying and telling her everything he did for her after she passed, and then he sets a handwritten note on the ground, right next to a bouquet of wildflowers.
Harry sits with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. His brows are creased, not angrily, but like he's trying to stop tears from falling out of his eyes. His head is tilted, nose slightly pink through the light flashing on his face.
"I can't believe you watched that entire two-hour movie with me," I say quietly, trying to ease him out of his spell.
He takes a deep inhale, watching as the credits roll. "I want to be cremated," he mumbles, clearing his throat.
My eyes dance around his guarded state. "What?" I question, not truly sure if I heard him right.
His head snaps to me, eyes now widened. "I just mean that, like, I wouldn't want to be left in the Earth. I would want to be wherever my family goes." He stretches his arms and stands. "Although, I've got no family, so maybe I should just plant myself with a tree." He smiles, fighting away the hurt left on his face. He walks over to me and cups my cheeks in his hands, kissing me deeper than he has in days.
When he pulls away from me, his eyes are still shut, and his hands don't drop from my face. He leans into me, nuzzling his nose into mine. "Would you take care of me if I was dying, like Forrest did for Jenny?" His voice is low and sad, trailing between us with the deepest kind of hurt.
I bring my hands up to cup over his, pecking his lips softly. "Well, I certainly wouldn't let you go out without a bang, curly." I kiss his nose which makes him open his eyes. "Now stop talking like that, you're going to be stuck with me for the rest of your life. One day, right?" I smile at him, trying to lighten the mood.
"One day, Treasure." He gives me a weak grin with a head nod. "You know, I don't like that movie."
"No?" I laugh back. "For someone that doesn't like it, you're awfully worked up."
"I was just admiring the... chocolates... and stuff. Be quiet," he says, picking me up and tossing me over his shoulder, making me shriek and laugh. He walks us back to my bedroom and throws me onto the bed, wasting no time to climb over me and tickle my exposed skin.
"Harry!" I laugh, "Stop–stop it!" I can't catch my breath as he attacks my sides, smiling wider than I've ever seen before. He moves his hands off my stomach to above my head as he lowers himself down on me, my legs wrapping around his hips.
Our kiss is slow, the two of us savoring each other under my fairy lights. "You make me so happy, Brinna," he whispers only centimeters from my face.
"You called me your girlfriend earlier," I recall, the name weighing heavy on my chest.
"I did," he agrees. "She was messing with my woman. Couldn't let that happen, could I?" He rolls off of me so we're both on our sides facing each other. I brush his long hair out of his face, twirling a curl in my finger.
"Thank you for sticking up for me. I don't want you to think I was crying because of her, or whatever she said," I say, trying not to think about her accusing me of opening my legs for someone who doesn't want me.
He leans his head forward and closes his eyes. "Do you regret coming to the party?" he whispers.
I close my eyes with him, probably for the same reason of not wanting to see each other's reactions. A deep sigh leaves my lips. "Not being with you, just everything before. The drinking, and the weed."
"I... I don't know how to say this without it sounding weird," he starts and immediately, I know where it's going. "Why do you get like this every time you drink? Why do you always regret it?"
I roll over so I'm more on my back than facing him. My lip moves into my mouth as I ponder over his words, deciding whether or not to answer him truthfully or even at all. My eyes open to my bare ceiling, distant memories being thrown across it like an old-timey film.
"My parents were addicts." I start off with information he already knows, easing both of us into a conversation I've only had once before. "They weren't always like that, though. They were actually really good people, good parents. They loved each other a lot."
"If this is too much, Brin, you don't have to–"
"No, I want to. You should probably know anyway. Um, they worked really hard to get ahead in life and we really had it all, you know. I had a brother, or... have a brother? I never met him. They lost him before he could come home..."
My chest tightens from bringing up the memories of Dallie. I don't think I can say his name out loud yet. He doesn't feel like mine to grieve. I never met the baby who changed my life, but he's still a deep wound almost a decade later. I would have an annoying nine-year-old brother right now, probably begging me to hang out with Harry.
I've always wondered who Dallie looked more like. Secretly, I was hoping he looked like me, because at least when they screamed, they couldn't hate me while looking at his face. No one ever outright told me that Dallie died, but I understood as soon as I saw my mother come home. It was solidified when she tried to hurt herself so she could be with him.
"My parents really missed him." I sigh again, feeling Harry crawl closer to me until his head is resting on my chest and his arm around my waist. My hands find his hair, running it back and tugging on it like a child with a comfort item. "They started fighting a lot, to the point it turned physical," I flinch at the memory of my mother screaming at my dad, being there the first time he put his hands on her. I nearly choke out when I feel the ghost of his hands on me again.
"My mom got hooked on painkillers, and then my dad started drinking. They both got addicted to their own drug of choice and eventually, they fell in love again over a needle." My heart feels like it's hammering out of my chest at the words spewing from my lips. "They ruined our lives when they got addicted to whatever they did. We lost everything. I lost my loving parents."
Maybe they didn't lose everything, they had each other in the end. But I lost everything and I'm still trying to pick up the pieces and navigate this life with no guidance.
He nods against me, arm tightening around my hip. "You think you're going to turn out like them?" he asks, voice muffled against my clothes.
A chill runs down my body, cold sweat prickling my forehead. "I think I already have," I admit, slightly defeated.
His head lifts from my chest, brows furrowed in confusion. I keep my hands in his hair, not wanting to let go of the only thing keeping me grounded. "Are you craving it right now, Brinna?" he retorts.
"What?" I open my eyes to look at him.
"Are you itching for something? Is your body shaking and sweating because you need more booze?'
"No, but I–"
"Have you been missing work because you're too high?"
"No." I glare at him, not understanding where his questioning is going.
"How many times have you gone out?" He challenges, still stern.
"Well... plenty but every time I–"
"But you never crave a drug? Or alcohol? You don't run from your obligations to get a fix, right?" He softens his brows.
"That doesn't mean I'm not addicted to it. I keep going back."
He sighs, eyes flicking between my own. "I hate to break it to you, but that's called being in your twenties, Brinna."
I pout at his roundabout way of calling my worries ridiculous. "That's how addiction starts, I like it so much that I keep coming back for more until eventually I get hooked."
"Not everyone gets addicted. Your parents went through something horrible and found comfort in something they shouldn't have. You smoke a little weed and make out with your friend. There's a big difference," he says bluntly.
We sit in silence for a few beats, my hands grazing over his scalp while he keeps his eyes on my blank face.
"It's not your fault."
I push up on my elbows, face pinched up to the point that it's almost uncomfortable. "I–what?"
"It's not your fault," he repeats, lips pressed into a line. "You weren't responsible for them becoming addicts."
"I know that..." I blink quickly, suddenly feeling overwhelmingly suffocated. I tried to stop them.
"You didn't do that to them."
"Harry... I know." My throat tightens. I wasn't enough to make them quit.
"It's not your fault that they did that and it's not your fault that you feel the need to punish yourself for being a normal person. You're not an addict, Brinna."
I stare at him like he's got three heads, but with the tears blurring my vision he might. "I don't know how to be a normal person without it being a problem." I fall back on my comforter, hands unintentionally tugging his hair harshly.
"You didn't have anyone to show you, that's not your fault either." He drops his head back down to my chest, planting kisses on my collarbone. "I'll show you. We don't have to do anything crazy. We won't do anything crazy, but I can be your safety net. You won't have to regret anything. I won't let you get addicted to anything, and if you start to slip, I'll catch you."
"You'll catch me?"
"I won't ever let you fall," he promises. The room falls silent and I wish my head would do the same. He seems too good to be true and I'm waiting for the catch, but he just keeps getting better. How can someone be so perfect? Why to me?
"Brin?"
"Yes?"
"I've been clean from coke and pills for two months now. We... we won't let each other fall, alright?"
My hands move to push his head up, "That's huge, why didn't you tell me?" I smile at him, pulling him up to kiss me.
"I started when um... when we took a break. I stopped all of that for you actually, and I know you didn't know about it, but I didn't want you to see me drugged up like that."
"I'm proud of you, baby." The nickname slips from my lips before I can stop it, my cheeks heating with it. He lifts himself to a push-up position above me, grinning so wide his dimples pop.
"What did I do to get so lucky?" He fake swoons, rolling his eyes back with a laugh. "You're going to be the death of me, Treasure." He shakes his long hair out so it's in my face, tickling my skin as I try to squirm away. "I'll die a happy man if you have anything to do with it."
***