So, like, before we get into the fic, I've got some very important news to share. . .
On Monday, March 27th, 2017, at 8:03PM, my absolute favorite boy (other than Harry, of course) Luke Hemmings followed me on Twitter. Like. WHAT. THE. FUCK? I hadn't been expecting it AT ALL. I tweeted that boy ONCE, and next thing I knew he followed me and I was having trouble breathing. I kid you not, I started shaking and crying. 4 years I've loved that boy and tried to get him to notice me, and then on that fateful day, I was the ONLY person he followed. I'm still in complete disbelief and shock. I love him so much I'm gonna start crying again omg.
Enjoy the chapter!!
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Chapter 6
City Girl's POV:
"No fucking way."
"Yes, way! Can you believe it? I'm gonna start crying again."
I stared at my best friend's left ring finger, her hand clasped in both of mine as the diamond stared back at me, shining brilliantly in the sunlight that filtered through the window of my living room. It was a beautiful sight, but the smile on my best friend's face was even more blinding that I couldn't help but grin back at the mere sight of it.
Zoe had just returned from her trip to Chicago, and not only had she surprised me by showing up at my doorstep after I got home from work, but she practically shoved her left hand in my face in effort to show me the ring that nestled on her finger. Apparently, after all of the wedding shenanigans, Carlos couldn't wait any longer and had asked Zoe to marry him—something that he had been wanting to do for a while now, according to her story telling. Of course, upon learning that my best friend was engaged, I joined in on her squealing of utter excitement and poured us both some of my favorite red wine.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you as soon as it happened," she apologized, lightly swirling the liquid in the glass as she sat facing me on the couch, "but I wanted to let you know in person. Makes it all the more better, y'know?"
I grinned easily, not at all minding. "No, I'm glad you waited," I assured her, squeezing her free hand with mine. "I'm so happy for both of you, seriously. You guys are so cute, oh my God." Her smile only widened, unsuccessfully hiding it behind the rim of the glass as she took another sip. "So do guys know when you want the wedding or are you just enjoying the engagement phase for now?"
Zoe chuckled, lowering her glass as she leaned back against the armrest of the couch. "We haven't begun planning or anything, but we both agreed we want the wedding to be sometime in August."
I nodded, shifting so my legs were now folded underneath me, all the while making sure the wine from my glass didn't spill. The stain would be a bitch to get out. "That's a nice time."
"Oh, and—not that I really have to say this since it'd be a known fact—you're my maid of honor, Vera," Zoe nonchalantly put out, as if it was a fact, because in all honesty, it was.
Nonetheless, the smile on my face widened even more, if that was possible, and I reached over to give her a one armed hug, still mindful of our beverages as I enthusiastically claimed, "Yes! I love you, thank you!"
"Don't thank me yet," Zoe laughed after we pulled away, a smirk tilting her lips as she added, "You never know—I might be a real nightmare. Bridezilla waiting to happen."
I thought back to the conversation my mother and I had a few days ago, how Zoe would have to deal with me on my own wedding day. But this was her time, and I was more than willing to join her on this and help her every step of the way. Besides, if she really did turn out to be a nightmare, I could always return the favor when the roles are reversed. "I can handle you."
We chatted for a little while about her trip to Chicago, before she indulged in how Carlos had proposed and how it was the last thing she had been expecting. Zoe then proceeded to show me pictures and videos her family members had taken, since apparently they knew it was going to happen, and I couldn't stop the smile from growing on my face as I watched them.
It was so romantic; Carlos had done it in front of Zoe's family, because she had quite a large one and they were all so impeccably close and tight-knit. It was a good idea on Carlos's part to propose to her in the middle of her family living room, with everyone surrounding them as he got down on one knee and proclaimed his love for her, pulling out the ring and completely catching her off-guard and in tears. Like I said—completely romantic.
"We should go out for drinks tonight," I suggested, eyes widening slightly as I looked at my best friend. "Get the rest of the girls and celebrate your engagement."
Zoe let out an amused laugh, eyebrows raised as she stared at me in light surprise, dark brown eyes sparkling. "Vera, we literally just had some wine," she pointed out.
I waved my hand to dismiss the fact, clicking my tongue in the process. "So? You're engaged! We'll get Sabine, Peyton, and Willow and go to Tonic for some drinks and dinner. It'll be fun," I encouraged, knowing that it wouldn't take much to get Zoe to agree. She was always one to go out for a night of fun. Normally it was her trying to drag me out, so this was sort of a nice change of circumstances.
"Alright, fine," Zoe conceded, giggling at her own lack of fight before standing up, and gathering her dark brown hair to put up in a messy pony tail. "But if we're going out then I gotta get home now. Are we gonna meet there?"
I nodded, standing up as well and grabbing both of our now empty wine glasses. "Yeah. Eight o'clock?" I asked, feeling a light chill travel up my spine as my bare feet touched the cold woodened flooring.
Zoe grinned, zipping up her coat and heading towards the door after grabbing her bag. "I'll see you then," she said, opening the dark grey front door before shouting, "Love you, V!" and shutting it behind her.
Once I had put the glasses in the dishwasher, I had taken my phone and texted my three friends, asking them if they could come out for the small get together later tonight. Thankfully, Zoe had called them while she was here to inform them of her news—I could literally hear their enthusiastic squeals through the phone. After getting all three of their confirmation texts, I took a hold of two manuscripts I had brought home with me and returned to the couch, turning on the television as a sort of background noise as I did my work.
It was both a good thing and an annoyance that I had already drank my wine instead of doing so while I edited these manuscripts; last time I had drank while working, I had accidentally spilled the wine and decided to save my work instead, placing it safely on the couch and letting the wine drip to the floor. Safe to say I had to throw out a pretty white carpet due to an ugly red stain and my extreme stupidity.
*****
The goose bumps were littered across the skin of my legs as the bitterly cold breeze from outside hit the back of them while I entered the dimly lighted bar. It was a fairly big and popular joint here on seventh avenue; with a long marble-top bar on the right side of the room with dozens of stools and three bartenders to accommodate, and rows of small rectangular tables on the other side for people to also sit, with booth seats next to the wall and chairs on the other side of the table. There were shelves upon shelves behind the bartenders, of course, containing the liquor and music playing through the speakers on the ceiling with a fair volume.
Ignoring the fact that I was ready to scold myself for wearing a royal blue sleeveless dress that reached my thighs, I shrugged off my coat as I scanned the room, trying to catch sight of my friends that had ironically arrived before I had. My eyes landed on them towards one of the middle tables, with Zoe sat in between Willow and Sabine on the booth side of the table and Peyton opposite of them.
Walking over, my heels clicking on the sleek wood paneled floors, I approached them as a smile grew on my face in response to their greetings upon catching sight of me. "It's rude to be late to something you planned, Vera," Zoe grinned teasingly, no offense in her tone as she picked up her glass.
I laughed sheepishly, draping my coat on the back of the seat next to Peyton as I apologized, "Sorry—I was editing papers and lost track of time." Glancing back at the bar, I said to them, "I'm gonna get a drink real quick," before making my way to the other side of the room.
Finding an empty space between the chairs, I leaned my front against the bar, arms folding on top of the cool countertop as I waved over a bartender, asking for, "Gin and tonic, please."
The red haired guy nodded, maneuvering around the bar to make me my drink as I stood there waiting, pulling out my phone to keep myself busy. When the guy brought the drink, I quickly paid him before making my way back to where my friends sat, settling in the seat next to Peyton as I tuned into their conversation.
"I always knew you'd be the first to get married," Sabine was saying, her red lips stretched into a smile as she sat opposite of Willow, though her body was facing the right to where Zoe was sitting. "You and Carlos had it coming for so long."
"Yeah, you've been together for like, what? Six years?" Peyton questioned, an impressed tone in her voice.
"Seven and a half, almost," Zoe corrected with a blissful smile, clearly thinking of her fiancé as she nursed her beverage.
Willow sighed exasperatedly, shoulders hunching slightly as pout settled on her lips that were colored with brown lipstick, just a shade darker than her seemingly flawless skin. "At least one of us is getting married. God knows when Julian is gonna pop the question. If he is," she added with an emphasis, rolling her dark eyes as she took a sip of her drink, which smelled like whiskey.
The rest of us laughed as I rubbed her left shoulder, grinning as she cursed her boyfriend of five years. Willow was a family girl, just like Zoe, and dreamed of having her own perfect family with her boyfriend. Julian was just as excited for that sort of future, and if he could just propose to Willow so they could get started on that, it'd put our friend out of her misery. But we all knew her love for him wasn't going anywhere, and vice versa, so it was just a waiting game, at this point.
"Don't worry," I assured Willow in an encouraging tone. "Julian will eventually propose, and when he does, we'll all be there to serve your insufferable bridal ass just like we'll inevitably have to do with Zoe."
The girls practically howled with amused laughter as Zoe's jaw dropped, scoffing with a grin as she picked up some peanuts from the bowl sitting in the middle of the table and tossed them at me. I easily deflected, unashamedly yelping as I used my hand to swat them away and on to either the floor or tabletop. Zoe shook her head, chuckling as the girls toned down their laughter a little, with Peyton even high fiving me for my teasing comment.
"Need I remind you I can make your life hell for the next few months, darling maid of honor," Zoe spoke sweetly, smirking smugly as she sipped her drink and watched as my smile diminished a bit.
Narrowing my eyes, I mumbled a, "Fuck you," before taking the wedge of lime on the rim of my glass and sucking on it. The tart flavor, as it's supposed to, appealed to my taste in addition to the pine flavor of the gin and bittersweet tonic.
The next hour or so consisted of us ordering dinner from the bar, and once my spicy chicken burger with a side of curly fries was placed in front of me, everything else seemed to slip away as I was more than prepared to devour it. But right when I was about to reach for my burger, Sabine's voice halted my actions. "Before we eat," she said, and I looked up at the strawberry blonde girl as a grin spread on her lips, holding up her drink which was now just Coke. "I wanna give a quick toast to our girl," she continued, directing her smile to Zoe as the rest of us picked up our beverages as well. "You're gonna be the most beautiful bride. To Zoe!"
"To Zoe!"
*****
It was around one in the morning when we had decided to call it a night. Five hours were spent in the bar eating and drinking and gossiping about whatever we could think of. Once we had paid our bills, each of us had respectively pulled our phones out to call an Uber for ourselves, since we all lived in different parts of the city. Save for Zoe and I, who only lived a few blocks from each other, so we were going to ride together and Carlos would pick her up from my apartment so she wouldn't have to walk by herself.
Zoe was, for a lack of a better word, drunk. She had a bit too much to drink, courtesy of Willow, and was stumbling all over the place and making a ruckus. So much so, that the bartender told us to step outside because of the disturbance my best friend was causing. Which was, really, a bit of a dick move seeing as it was about twenty degrees outside and the middle of the night. But, yeah, telling two girls to stand outside at this time was a great idea. Asshat.
But the app on my phone told me the Uber was about four minutes away, so hopefully luck would be on our side for the night and nothing terrible would happen. So, once I slung Zoe's right arm around my shoulder and wrapped my left one around her waist, I took the stumbling idiot outside, cursing under my breath as she drunkenly tripped over her own two feet as I tried to maintain balance in my heels. Of course, no one actually tried to help our struggling so I willfully managed to make it outside, feeling my legs immediately begin to freeze in the harsh cold air.
We leaned against the wall outside the bar, breaths fogging up in front of our faces as I used my right hand to bring my coat tighter around my form. My hands were in the slow process of losing all feeling due to the wintry air, and I prayed to God that the car would arrive sooner rather than later.
Zoe, whose head was leaned back against the brick wall and was lolling from side to side, mumbled in a slur, "I don't feel s-so good, V."
I glanced at her, a concerned furrow taking place on my brows as I stared at her. Her eyes were shut, squeezing occasionally as she also pressed her lips together. "Do you feel nauseous?" I hesitantly asked, praying for her to say no when I knew that was highly unlikely. With the amount of alcohol she had, it wouldn't be surprising if that's exactly how she felt.
Zoe shook her head slowly, allowing my shoulders to sag a bit in relief, although that was incredibly short lived as she responded, "No, I feel like I'm g-gonna puke." Poor thing didn't even realize that was literally what I asked. I would've laughed if I didn't know the inevitable was about to happen.
And, true to my belief, Zoe pushed herself roughly from the wall, practically shoving against me and prompting from my arm to slip from her waist, my purse dropping to the floor as she let out a pained groan. Next thing I knew, my best friend bent over as she threw up the contents of her stomach right on the sidewalk next to the wall, and I took a step away as my face scrunched up in disgust, although my hand placed itself on her back to rub it soothingly.
But as she vomited with disturbing sounds and I averted my gaze, I realized in horror that she hadn't just thrown up on the sidewalk—but right on the God damn shoes of some poor bastard that had been leaving the bar.
My eyes widened in mortification, breath catching in my throat as the embarrassment Zoe would've felt if she was aware second handedly fell on me. Slowly, pathetically, I lifted my gaze to look at the owner of the seemingly expensive looking shoes, apologies ready at my lips and prayers in my mind that this person wouldn't lash out on us. New Yorkers at night could be quite the scary bunch, I know from experience.
Finally looking at the person's face, the first thing I noticed was green. Jade colored eyes looked back at me, the color still bright and visible due to the two lights on the wall above me, as well as the lights from the signs of the other establishments around us. Eyebrows were raised in shock and disgust, understandably, as pink lips formed out, "Bloody hell," in a deep tone that did not by any means sound American.
And I blinked; once, twice, and then a bunch more times because surely I wasn't staring at who I think I was staring at. Certainly, I probably had too much to drink—not as much as Zoe, maybe—but enough for my mind to be playing tricks on me as I stared at this very tall man with a face that I knew I had seen before on magazines and television and the Internet.
Surely, I wasn't staring at the face of the motherfucking Prince of England.
Surely, Zoe hadn't just thrown up on the shoes of the Prince of England.
But as I took in the dark curly and windswept hair of the man to match the green eyes and apparent accent, I came to terms with the unfortunate fact that my mind wasn't actually playing some sort of joke on me, that I wasn't too drunk to imagine this, and that Zoe did, in reality, throw up on the definitely expensive shoes of the Prince of England.
What in the actual hell?
"Oh, my God," my voice suddenly found itself as I squeaked those words out, embarrassment once again washing over me as Zoe finally stopped throwing up and stood straight to lean against the wall once more, eyes shutting and completely unaware of the ordeal in front of her. "Oh my—" I cut myself off as green eyes met my dark brown ones. "I'm so sorry. My friend—she—she's completely wasted and. . . Oh, my God. I'm sorry!"
I was pathetically stumbling over my words, brows practically glued in a distressed furrow as my humiliation warmed up my body in the chilly cold because my cheeks were absolutely on fire. Zoe was the one who had done what she had done, yet since I was painfully conscious of it whereas she wasn't, the burden of being absolutely mortified fell upon me. How fucking wonderful.
The guy—the damn Prince of England—parted his lips, the look of repugnance still present on his features, although he looked like he was trying to control his expression. It was no use, though; the repulsive smell of vomit was now lingering in the air and I was ready to throw up, too. Either from that, or the fact of who I was standing in front of sank deeper into my brain.
"It's, um," he finally spoke up, voice as deep as it sounds in videos I've seen of him with an accent that seems thicker in person, "it's fine. Don't apologize."
Before my brain could make a connection with my mouth, I spoke up. "No, no it's not fine. Your shoes—" I cut off with a grimace as I glanced down at said articles, cringing as the once sleek black of the shoes was covered in items too gross to comprehend. "Your shoes are completely ruined and—wow, you're the prince," I couldn't help but add in a disbelieving whisper, exhaling sharply as I stared at him in utter incredulity.
Prince Harry Styles, someone whom I'd only seen in magazines and online, widened his eyes ever so slightly and shook his head, hands lifting out of the pockets of his coat as he shook those slightly as well. "Please, not too loudly," he pleaded, glancing around in almost paranoia before looking back at me. "I don't want anyone to know of my presence, if that's okay."
I clamped my mouth shut, nodding sharply, because really, who the hell was I to argue with him? Biting the inside of my lower lip briefly, I once again said, "I'm really sorry about my friend. She's just had way too much to drink. Please don't behead me."
The last thing, admittedly, flew out of my mouth before I could actually understand what the hell I said. But when I did, my cheeks once again felt like they were on fire because this time the embarrassment was purely my own as the Brit stared at me as if I was crazy and really, I might as well be, before he began chuckling lowly with amusement flitting across his expression. It was like he had completely forgotten about his puked up shoes because no way would he be laughing if he actually remembered that small feat.
"I hope you're aware that beheading hasn't been a form of punishment for a long time, love," Prince Harry chortled, the amusement evident in both his tone and expression as he stared at me with a small smile kinking at the corner of his lip, showing the hint of an indent for a dimple in his left cheek.
Pursing my lips in an attempt to control my awkwardness, I nodded quickly, offering a sheepish laugh as I breathily said, "Of course, yeah, totally knew that."
The amused expression didn't leave his face, and it was then when I saw Subaru that we had been waiting for pull up, my eyes going to the license plate and realizing that was, in fact, our ride. Hastily, I bent down and blindly grabbed my purse, slinging it over my shoulder as I grabbed Zoe's own shoulders, pulling her sleepy and drunk form off the fall.
The prince watched us as I began pushing Zoe towards the car, calling out a brash and unthinking, "I'm sorry about your shoes! Nice meeting you! Sorry for the throw up!" before shoving her in the car and telling the driver to fucking go because that was probably the craziest thing to ever happen to both Zoe and I. Unfortunately, my best friend was too drunk to realize what had just occurred and I was painfully sober, the mortification continuously washing over me in waves.
Leaning back against the leather seat, I glanced at Zoe, whose head was resting against the window, and I leaned my own head back to stare at the dark ceiling of the car. It was that moment when I realized my last words to the God damn Prince of England were sorry for the throw up.
I groaned, ignoring the driver's curious glance from the rearview mirror as I shut my eyes and grumbled out a quiet, "Son of a bitch," to end the night.