My Best Friend's Brother

"I honestly don't understand why you dislike me so much," Harry smirked, backing me into the wall. I let out a gasp as his body pressed against mine. I could feel his body heat radiating against mine and I couldn't even mumble out an insult. "Do you still hate me?" he asked, his voice low, almost coming out as a growl. I nodded in response, not trusting my own voice. His eyes left mine, his smirk still perfectly in tact. I suddenly felt his warm lips sponging soft kisses up from the top of my chest, to the top of my neck, and up at my ear. I could hear his slow breathing as he opened his mouth. "And now?" It took me some time to respond, but I finally mustered out the word. "Always," I said, before he moved his face in front of me, crashing his lips against mine.

*WARNING, I DID NOT, I REPEAT, NOT WRITE THIS, I JUST LIKE THE STORY*

14Likes
13Comments
3811Views
AA

13. 13

For the majority of time spent at the party, I stuck by Harry’s side, not even contemplating on moving. We may not get along, but I still felt at my safest when I was with him – I never really got the vibe of him being bothered by me being there the whole time either. He’d even occasionally look back to make sure I was still there; and when he saw that I hadn’t even taken a step, he would give me a comforting smile, which was pretty reassuring and gave me actual hope that we’d both make it out of this house alive.

 

There were of course those times when disgusting and intoxicated losers would approach me, swing their arm around my shoulder and slur particularly revolting invitations into my ears, showering away every speck of innocence from my entire life. But then Harry would trot on over and escort them away, not doing anything major, due to the drunk factor. “Listen, mate. I’m going to cut some slack since you’re not with it right now. But that’s really not how to treat a lady.” I laughed for the amount of times he had to say it, and he didn’t fail at using the exact same words; I presume he’d done it before. Either that or he was just really good with his words.

 

He’d quite the articulate young lad.

 

Harry’s P.O.V:

 

The night was going really well a couple hours in. That is until I, at one point, noticed that Audrey was no longer standing next to me. A feeling of complete and utter concern practically erupted in the pit of my stomach as I frantically scanned my eyes over the room, hoping to see her amongst the crowd. No luck. I excused myself from the person I was chatting to, who surprisingly was sober – it was quite hard to be like that at one of my home town parties.

 

I made my way up the stairs, hoping that maybe she’d gone to the restroom or something like that. I walked over to the door at a rapid pace, knocking quite loudly; hoping whoever was inside could hear it over the thumping music that travelled throughout not only the house, but the entire street.

 

“OCCUPIED!” a high pitched voice, practically shrieked from the other side of the door, and I backed away, merely terrified at the tone she used. Well, at least I think it was a she...

 

I raced backed down the stairs, not bothering to grip to the side of the case. I searched around the living room once more, but then it hit me. She was probably just in the kitchen. I let out a sigh as I realised that I was probably just imagining the worst. But when I walked into the kitchen, the worst had actually turned into a reality. There she was, doing vodka shots, surrounded by guys who had looks of hunger all over their faces. Hunger for Audrey. MY Audrey. Well, not mine. But mine for the night. As bad as that sounds.

 

I frowned as the guys were bending over each other to be next to her, the sight almost making me sick. I had to stop it. I marched over, pushing through the few guys on her left so I could be next to her. “Audrey,” I said my voice low and calm as I grabbed her wrist gently. She slowly glanced down at the sudden contact and then her eyes scanned up my body, trying to process everything. I knew what she was doing and I knew what being drunk was like, so I just let her eyes wander where they needed to. A grin exploded on her face when her, now dazed, chocolate brown eyes came into contact with mine. “HARRY!” she exclaimed, yanking my body into her suddenly, wrapping her slender arms around my torso. She must have been gone for a while before I noticed for her to be this intoxicated. Either that or she really can’t handle her drink – which I highly doubted was the case. She was stronger than she looked when it came to consuming alcohol. I had seen her drunk before. Intense stuff.

 

“Audrey,” I began, plying her body from mine, holding her forearms to keep her steady. “What have you had to drink?” She looked up at me, her expression slightly disorientated. “Umm...” she pondered, and I left her to think about it for a few moments before I spoke up once more, elbowing the guys who were trying to get at her. I figured I better get her out before something violent actually happened with those lads.

 

I put one arm around her shoulder, forcing her tightly against my side as I grabbed her other hand, guiding her towards the back exit of the house. I slid the door open, closing it behind Audrey as she made her way out, very slowly, I might add. It didn’t feel right at all to be judgement towards her whilst she was in this state, though. So I kept all thoughts to myself, except for the ones that actually mattered.

 

“Audrey, please. Just tell me how much and what you’ve had to drink,” I said, my face masked with concern as she sat on the limestone wall out the front of the house. I sighed, kneeling down, looking up at her face and placing my hands around to her back, keeping her stable. “I don’t know!” she cried, causing a wave of guilt to wash over me. She was getting to the stage that girls get to when they’re drunk. Where anything: a question, a statement, a compliment – anything, can set them off and make them emotional. I’m not being sexist, and maybe that’s just from me going to parties and having this happen around me. But it usually does happen with girls, and it’s worrying for me, especially when my sister’s best friend is doing it.

 

“Okay, let’s take you back to the car, yeah?” I offered, standing to my feet and grabbing her hands. I slowly pulled her up, her feet obviously not able to operate them. I figured I had to do it the old fashioned way. “Audrey,” I’m just going to pick you up, alright?” I said to her, more of a warning than a question. She nodded her head slowly, and I gently put one arm under both her knees, and the other around the nape of her neck. She was slightly startled at first, but she was becoming more and more aware as to what was happening with every step we got closer to the car. Great, it was only ten o’clock and I already had to go home. Oh well, I guess it’s always safety first.

 

I opened the door to the back seat and placed a now conscious and aware Audrey on it. She frowned as she saw me getting into the back with her, but she soon shifted over slightly so she was on the edge of the seat. There was a gap on the other side between her and the back of the seat that she’d made for me, and to be honest, I knew that I was going to be able to fit there. I just didn’t want to be so eager to do it. So I decided to whip out the small talk, unsure if she was going to be able to respond.

 

“Are you feeling alright?” I asked, moving into the space next to her slowly, hovering the upper part of my body over her. She simply just closed her eyes in response, making some kind of groaning noise. I smiled at her expression, which had now turned into a frown. “Well you shouldn’t have drunk so much, eh?”

 

We chatted for about half an hour or more, just the casual small talk, anything that we could really come up with, to be honest. Her voice was still slurred, but I understood. I soon came to realise that Audrey wasn’t as bad as I had known her to be for so long. Well, I knew she wasn’t a BAD person, but we just weren’t fond of each other’s personalities. That was all. She was quite interesting, and talking to her while she was drunk was probably best. Because hopefully, she wasn’t going to remember it the next morning. That wouldn’t be such a fun story to tell Gemma, even though she’d enjoy the bonding. Just not how and where it occurred.

Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...