Set Her Free

Harry Styles has known something is wrong with him for most of his life. He's wicked smart and really nice, but people don't hang out with him. He gets called 'gay' on a daily basis, although he doesn't know what that means until third grade. He gets called 'weak' when he plays sports, because he's not good at them. He spends too much time looking at the cheerleaders. But it's not because he wants them. He wants to be one of them.

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24. Party: Part 2

(Just in case, there is a bit of a rape trigger in this chapter. It doesn't actually happen, but it's similar. If that sort of thing triggers you, you don't have to read this one. I won't be mad at you.)

Harriet's heart kept it's 'thumpthumpthump'-ing up throughout the night. (Which was a good thing and a bad thing. A bad thing because she was afraid Louis might actually hear it, but a good thing because, well....she'd die if her heart wasn't beating.)

Anyway, they were having an extraordinarily good time.

Harriet hadn't drank anything except a bit of water when she was tired, and she'd watched the person pouring drinks very carefully, because she did /not/ want to end up drunk or drugged or whatever else could-and would-happen to others at a high school party like this.

Louis had been drinking and giggling and dancing and talking and just generally being himself the entire time. He'd definitely been showing her his 'wild side'. It was a lovely sight to see, and Harriet was thankful she hadn't missed out on being with her friend like this.

But there was one side of her friend that she had never seen before, and it started to come out at around his tenth drink.

Louis could hold his drink quite well for his age, which begs the question, 'How many of these parties had he actually been to?'

He had tried to kiss a girl when she was obviously dancing with her boyfriend and Harriet was obviously with Louis. At least, she thought that it was obvious.

The second time, when they were sitting to take a break from the nearly constant dancing they had been doing, he had tried to feel Harriet up. Her legs, that is, but she had crossed them before he could get too far and discover something he might not have been expecting from her.

The third time, he had pulled her hand and forced her up those quivering steps. She had been trembling, too. With nervousness. She was getting a little scared.

What would he do?

If he did what she thought he might do, how would he react?

Would he call her those nasty names?

Would he try to hurt her?

Or, scariest of all, would he be totally fine with it and take her virginity tonight?

She honestly couldn't decide which was the most frightening thought.

But anyway, Louis had led her up, and then he'd proceeded to search for an empty bedroom. There certainly weren't a lot, and Harriet had gotten more than her fair share of looks at some of her naked schoolmates. Seriously, like, there were too many. No, she did not want to know what Stanley Lucas' penis looked like, but now she did.

Louis eventually just pushed her against the wall and kissed her.

He kissed her.

Louis Tomlinson was kissing Harriet Styles.

Sure, he might have tasted like beer and and cigarettes and other things one does not generally want to taste during a kiss, but did that matter to her? No way. She was just overjoyed to actually be kissing him. In real life. Not just in her daydreams or her nightdreams or her fantasies.

But there weren't any fireworks.

Usually, in those silly teen girl romance novels or romantic comedies, there are descriptions and scenes of fireworks and love and happiness when the girl and her crush finally end up kissing.

But there was none of that.

Just his lips on hers, sharing breath, their bodies pressed against one another.

And then he ruined it.

It had already been ruined for her before, as there weren't any sparks or happiness or what she thought would happen. Just, for him, it was a drunken kiss that probably wouldn't matter later on. He'd seen a girl and had wanted to kiss her. He'd done that multiple times that night.

But for her, this was supposed to mean something.

It was her first kiss.

And he ruined it.

He ruined it with his bad breath and his heavy body on hers. He ruined it with the fact that he'd tried to kiss other girls that night. He ruined it when his hand wandered to place itself between her legs. He ruined it when he finally pulled away and looked at her, into her eyes, as he tried to finger her.

Except there was nothing to finger.

She could see it. The confusion in his eyes.

"Alright, that's far enough." She whispered, trying to pull away from his hand. But he moved with her, his fingers still fumbling underneath her dress.

"Please stop." She said, reaching down to seize his wrist, but he just flicked his hand and hers was knocked away.

"Get off me." Harriet said firmly, reaching her hands up to instead push at his shoulders.

"Where's it at?" Louis slurred a little bit, eyes a tad bit unfocused. She'd almost forgotten how drunk he really was. Chances were he wouldn't remember this come tomorrow.

Thank God.

"Get off of me!" She finally had to scream, and he was surprised enough to step back and finally move his hand away, which she used to her advantage. She got the fuck out of there, and didn't look back.

Down the rickety stairs.

Pushing through the crowd of dancing, slumbering, happily drunk high schoolers.

Out the back door, sliding her keys out of that inner pocket.

All she thought was thank God she wasn't wearing heels as she ran out of there, down the hill, towards her parked car with tears streaming down her face.

Her heart kept right on beating, alright, but this time she was unsure if it was keeping her alive or trying to make her have a heart attack.

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