Drunk harry

“Hijos de perra!” Harry and I shouted as we walked across London. In reality, we were already overdrinking, and of course, we would do it just like that. After I finished drinking and shouting, Harry left me at my apartment, but before he let me open my door, he made me look at him intently. I know we're both drunk, so a lot of what we say now won't make sense tomorrow.

“Victoria.” His breath smells like alcohol, but despite that, he smells pretty good. “Do you know something?” He asks me with his red lips so close to mine, while I feel somewhat attracted.

“What?” I asked him, trying to push him away, to open the door to my apartment.

“I think you'd look better with me than with Dustin.” I try not to fall into this game of finding someone to blame, so, also a little drunk, I tell him:

“Harry, you should go home, it's late.” But he doesn't think the same way I do.

“Listen to me!” He shouts, putting his hands against the door, blocking my way. “You and I have to be together!” I just lau