Miranda, the girl from accounting, comes to my apartment Saturday night and is forcing me to go out. I agreed a few days ago, but now that the time has come, I am not really feeling like going out. Miranda forced me into a caged top black bodysuit with dark wash jeans. I look like a complete slut and the way she is doing my makeup isn't exactly helping.
While doing my makeup, she asks, "So, do you have a boyfriend or are you looking to take someone home tonight?"
I laughed at her blunt question. "No boyfriend and not really looking to take someone home. Not that I'm a prude or anything, I'm just not into the whole one night stand thing." I explain.
"Really?! I love it."
"Yeah, I would prefer a relationship, I guess?"
"What about a friends with benefits situation?" She asks me.
I pause to think. "I would definitely be into that. Great sex, no emotion? Sign me up."
We both laugh at my comment as she continued to paint my face.
After a few more moments of silence, she asks, "What's up with you and Mr. CEO?"
I almost choke on the drink I'm holding in my hand. "Ugh literally nothing. He always asks me the dumbest questions about his computer, that I know he knows how to fix, yet is too lazy to do it himself. He also walked into my lunch with Brian the other day. He just keeps pissing me off." I say, clearly expressing my exasperation to my new friend.
"Damn girl, seems like he has a little bit of a crush on you."
I let out a sarcastic laugh. "Fat chance." I dismiss her thought.
After finally getting ready, we head off to the bar. We already had a few drinks in our system from getting ready before hand, so we were both in a good mood to have a night out.
Once we got to the bar, I lose count of how many shots I've had and only focus on the girls I am dancing with. Miranda brought a few of her friends out, it makes the night much more fun. This is the most fun I've had since college. I am so lucky to have someone like Miranda in my life. She brings out the things in me a friend should and makes me come out of my shell.
After what feels like a thousand shots and a hundred mixed drinks, I am very drunk. I feel hands of an unidentifiable person go to my hips as I sway to the music on the speakers. I turn around and see a face I was not expecting to see. Liam.
I lean back and put my head in the crook of his neck. "What are you doing here?" I question as our hips sway with the rhythm.
"Miranda invited me. You looked like you needed a dancing partner." He answers the questions in both ways that I could have been asking.
I close my mouth before I ruin the moment and grind my hips on Liam's. He is a very attractive male around my age, but unfortunately I could only think of another man right now who happens to be the same age as Liam.
Before I got too heated with Liam, I excuse myself to the bathroom to send a text no one would suspect. Or everyone would suspect because let's face it, I am the most predictable person in the world.
Me: Heyyty
I hit send with the dumbest smile on my face. I really hope he would answer because I really wanted to talk to him right now. Without another thought, he responds.
Mr. Styles: Are you drunk?
Me: Omg how coils yoy tell?
Am I that obbioud??
Mr. Styles: Well it is 1am and your
typing is shit so I assumed
Me: You're right boss. Im
drubk af and I realky like
taling to you. Tell me
someyhjng funny
Mr. Styles:You should go to sleep
Me: Pls tell me somethng funny
Mr. Styles: Knock knock
Me: Who's there???
Mr. Styles: Cow says
Me: Cow says who?
Mr. Styles: No, the cow says moo
Me: HAHA omg that's gret Im
gonna usr that sonetime
Me: If your nt busy would you pik me up?
Mr. Styles: You're drunk, you don't actually want that
Me: Yes I do, I wnt to
hag out. We only went
on a buainess lumch.
I wanted to go to real
luch
Mr. Styles: You turned down real lunch
multiple times, love
My heart fluttered when I saw that word at the end of the text. I knew I was drunk and he was just saying that nickname but every time he used it on me, it did things to me.
Me: I'm sorrt. I promisr I'll
say yes nect time you asj.
Mr. Styles: Fine. Where are you?
Me: I'm at Cargo I thik it's
called???
Me: I would love to go to
lunch though
Mr. Styles: I'm on my way
I sit in the bathroom stall just admiring the text from him. He is on his way. He is on his way to pick me up when I'm drunk. How sweet is he?
Me: Thank you <3
Maybe the heart was a little excessive but I need to show him how much I appreciate him coming to pick me up. I mean he wakes up at 5 almost every day, yet he is able to take me home when I ask? What a man?! Also, I happen to be a little too drunk to care.
After about five minutes of looking back at Harry and I's texts, I decide it's time to go back out to the club. He should be here soon and I won't have to worry about anything after that.
I go back to the dance floor but I feel someone else who isn't Liam wrap their hands around my waist. "I think your ride is here." He whispers in my ear.
I turn around to see the beautiful man with green eyes and curly brown hair holding me. "Mr. Styles!" I squeal as a wrap my arms around him.
He chuckles at me and leans in to whisper in my ear. "I think it's time we head out."
I nod and turn to go find Miranda. "Oh my gosh! Is that Mr. Styles?!" Miranda says probably a lot louder than she should.
"Yeah, he came to pick me up."
Her jaw drops even further if that was physically possible. "He's taking you home?! Oh my gosh you're going to fuck the CEO!!" She says excitedly.
"No, he's just taking me home. He's the only person I know here that was sober to drive me home." I slur in her ear.
"Liam!" I hear Mr. Styles yell. "How are you man?!"
"Harry!" Liam drunkenly yells back. This is the first time I've actually heard someone use Mr. Styles' first name. I knew it was Harry, yet never heard anyone call him that. It was fitting, very regal and high class, just like him.
They have small talk for a little until Harry makes eye contact with me. He walks over and grabs my arm lightly. "Time to go, love."
I think I melted. I couldn't get a word out so I just nodded in response.
"Great, back to your place it is." He keeps his light hold on my wrist.
As we walk out, I notice his attire. He is in jeans and a simple white tee shirt. His shoes are simple, black Chelsea boots. I start giggling at this.
"What is so funny?" Mr. Styles asks me, genuinely curious, not annoyed.
I calm myself down enough to speak. "I've never seen you in anything other than a suit. Always so formal, Mr. Styles."
He raises an eyebrow and looks at me. "And you're not, Miss Stevens?"
"Nope!" I pop the 'p' and start giggling again.
Mr. Styles shakes his head at me. "You're funny when you're drunk."
"I'm funny when I'm not drunk too." I point out. After getting no response, I ask. "Where's your car?"
"Just around the corner. What's your address?" He asks, pulling out his phone.
"Wow, new iPhone, nice. Did you know, Apple has some of the best anti-virus software? You can watch and download so many movies illegally and not have anything wrong with your computer. It sucks though because it's hard to do any security work from them. Everything is so-"
"As much as I would love to listen to you talk about this for the next hour or so, I need you to tell me your address so I can get you home. Then you may continue." He cuts me off from my rant.
I relay my address to him and then continue to speak. "As I was saying, the command line is so much harder to deal with on a Mac because they're not made to do anything like that. A Mac would be a lot better for a marketing department because it has really great graphics." I continue this talk until we pull up to my apartment.
As I get up, the last few shots I had plus the fact that I am not the best on my feet get to me. I fall out of the car and let out a squeal.
"Oh fuck!" I hear Mr. Styles yell.
Next thing I know, he's next to me helping me up. "Give me a few seconds to park the car and I will walk you up to your apartment."
I pout. "I'm fine. I would have fallen out of the car anyway. I'm a total klutz." I laugh.
"No way. I am helping you out. You asked me to take you home and that includes getting you through the door and in bed."
I stand on the curb and wait for him to park his car. As soon as he does, he does a light jog to reach me quicker.
"You," I say as I poke his chest, "are such a gentleman. That's why you respected my wishes about lunch."
He shakes his head and chuckles. "And you, are very drunk. Why couldn't you tell me what you really wanted, Morgan?"
"Well I ended up in court against my ex boyfriend from America, so I don't think dating is my thing." I drunkenly explain without thinking of what I'm telling him.
As we're walking I trip again. I giggle and Mr. Styles grabs me by my waist before I can fall. He lets out what I can only assume is an annoyed sigh. "Why are you in heels? You're pretty tall already."
I'm actually not sure. I am 5'8" so I don't really need to be any taller, but I guess it gives me confidence. "They make me sexy." I comment. "But they're super uncomfortable and I cannot wait to take them off."
We are now on the elevator, just waiting for it to take me to my fifth story apartment.
I go through my small, silver clutch to find my keys. "Oh shit, I can't find them." I mumble under my breath hoping Mr. Styles wouldn't hear me.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me." He grabs the clutch out of my hand and goes through it himself. "Here they are." He holds up the silver key. "Maybe if you were a little more sober, you could have found them yourself."
"Thank you. I am so sorry, you can go home now. You could have gone home as soon as you dropped me off."
"But then you would be locked out." He sasses me.
I roll my eyes. "Thank you again, I think I can take it from here."
"No, I'm not done, you need to get in bed and then I can leave."
I roll my eyes, again. "I'm not five years old."
He laughs, but I can tell it's obviously forced and not real. "I am not treating you like you're five, I'm treating you like an adult who is clearly intoxicated."
I ignore his comment, walking into my apartment. "This is it?" He asks, taking in the small living room and kitchen. Walking in, all a person would be able to see is those two rooms plus two doors which hide the bathroom and bedroom. I tried to get a two bedroom in case anyone came over, but I don't have friends so no one is really trying to stay over.
"Home sweet home."
"Surely I pay you enough to afford more than this."
I scoff. "You do, but not everyone uses money on material items. Some, use it to make the world a better place." I say, walking over to my cabinet to pull out a bottle of vodka. Do I need more? No. Do I want more? Hell yes. I never go out and at this rate I'm not going to remember tomorrow anyway, why not make myself feel even better?
"Really Morgan, more?" Mr. Styles criticizes me.
"Oh sorry, where are my manners." I say, half sarcastically. "Would you like some? I have something you can mix it with if it's too strong."
He rolls his eyes at me and says, "It's not too strong." while taking the cup I just poured out of my hand and drinking all of it in one go.
Why is that the hottest thing I've ever seen? I need help.
I raise my eyebrows at him. "Impressive." I say, as I take a swig from the bottle.
This little back and forth between us goes on for another half an hour and at this point I am shitfaced beyond belief. I can barely talk and I can barely walk. Ha- Mr. Styles on the other hand is doing just fine.
"I'm gonna-" I hiccup mid sentence. "-go to bed now. Goodnight Mr. Styles and thank you again for picking me up. You really didn't have to do that."
He smiles at me, still looking very unaffected by the alcohol. "Where is your Advil?"
I point to the bathroom. He walks in and emerges, walking to me. I look at him with a confused face. "You might want to put these on your nightstand for when you wake up tomorrow morning." He speaks, getting closer to me to hand me the pills.
Going to grab the pills, I instead pull him by his wrist forward so our bodies are flush against each other. He sucks in a breath, watching my every move. I don't know why I just did that. I just made everything super awkward. Before either of us make a move, we stare into each other's eyes. I can't gauge if the mood is romantic or confusion, but we just don't look away.
I feel myself leaning in, but before I make the worst mistake of my life, the tiniest bit of me that is sober kicks in. "I- I'm s-sorry." I stutter as I go to turn away from him and go to my room. God I am such a fucking idiot. I refuse to ever get this drunk again.
As I'm about to walk away, he tugs my wrist back, a lot more gently than I tugged his. His lips land on my forehead and I let them linger for a few seconds before I actually turn and go to bed. All I can think about when I lay down is what the fuck just happened and how much worse it could have been.