please dont hate on Amber right away lmao remember that she's really drunk in this chapter and is kinda annoying but yeah I actually kinda enjoyed writing this soooo

***

Harry Styles

This is not how I expected my evening to go. I wasn't even supposed to be here if Niall hadn't dragged me to this place. I certainly didn't expect to see her here after our small conversation at the cafe. And I definitely didn't expect to see her dancing like that. But here we are, the same hazel eyes, the same heart-shaped lips, the same dark locks contouring the face staring right back at me.

"Hi, I'm Amber," she shouts over the music, a sly smirk on her face, as she sits next to who I've learned is Olivia.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Harry," I respond, as we both share a look, obviously remembering each other from earlier.

As I sit down, a girl who I've never seen before sits next to me and slightly leans into me, "Hi, I'm Olivia's best friend, Chloe," she says, totally interrupting my conversation with Amber. She then throws her arm behind my neck, leaning into me more, as I can feel her awfully sweet perfume soaking into me.

"Hey," I reply nonchalantly, grabbing a drink, detaching myself from her, as my smile is fully gone. I already see where this is going, and, honestly, I'm not in the mood for hooking up today. I came here to get plastered, so I chug the whole glass of whiskey in my hand.

She rolls her eyes, but thankfully takes the hint and makes her way back to the dance floor, giving me a death glare.

Don't blame me: It's been a rough week. I can't stress enough about releasing a new album in less than two months and I've got a few days until an important promo filming at Abbey Road Studios, but the thing is, my keyboardist Clare went on a goddamn skiing trip and broke her hands in an accident while getting sick in the process.

Apparently, the injury's really bad, and she won't be able to perform for a few months.

I need to figure out where I can get a keyboardist with great vocals on short notice. It seems impossible. Of course, I've been offered backup keyboardists, but none of them seem to fit my criteria. Fuck, it's all falling apart.
I run my hands through my hair, refilling the glass, and downing it in one gulp, barely feeling the bitter taste.

I scan over the booth again, to see Amber and some other girls already gone somewhere. I look to the right to see Niall and another girl already shoving their tongues down each others throats. Great.

Looking to the left, I see another familiar face; Landon. Thank god. I met him at the cafe today as well, and, honestly, he seems to be a great guy.

As we make small talk and share a joint, I see a group of people come out of the washrooms, approaching the booth. After squinting my eyes through the foggy space between us, I see none other than Amber sliding in the leather chairs, the fluorescent purple playing with her curls.

"Guys, the bathroom's sink water is by far the best one I've ever had, you guys have to try it, I swear!" she says enthusiastically, like she's discovered something revolutionary. Is she really that drunk?

"C'mon, Am, you're wasted. I'll get you home," Landon chirps in. He seems to be very protective of her.

"Yeah, I'm actually kinda tired," she yawns, then widens her eyes, "Hey, did you know the air tastes so good when you yawn?" she asks, yawning once again. Yup, she's definitely high.

"I think I'm gonna head home as well," I shrug. Honestly, now that Landon will be gone, there's nothing left for me here to do. I'd rather go home and be bored than sit here like an idiot.

"Where do you live?" she asks while making another drink, pouring vodka in a big glass, mixing it with pineapple juice.

"Just off Maple street," I disclose, making her eyes widen.

"Holy shit, we're literally like almost neighbors! I live just a couple blocks past Maple street," she exclaims, her words a bit slurred.

"Perfect, so let's walk home together?" Landon asks, looking at me with pleading eyes.

"Walk?" I question their lack of vehicles, the loud music silencing some of our words. I kinda don't want to third-wheel or anything.

"Yeah, I don't really like cars, curly," she states, throwing back a lock of hair previously in her face. I notice her tense a little bit, but she shrugs it off by taking a sip of her drink.

As much as I want to get home quicker, I actually quite enjoy their company, so if it means I'll have to walk home a few blocks, then so be it. It's better than spending the rest of my night alone, anyway.

I just hope the walk won't be awkward, but considering we're all drunk, this might be fun. Her demeanor is very different in contrast to what it was a few hours ago at the cafe, but I don't mean it in a bad way. She seems more cheerful now.

"Fine, let's go then," I sigh while getting up from the booth, and taking the glass of vodka cocktail out of her hand, downing it all in one try, as I see her pout at my gesture. Fuck, that's basically straight vodka. How did she drink that?

Nobody actually paid attention to us leaving when we made our way out through the back door, considering there could've been paparazzi outside the front door.

Now we're in the middle of an empty street, stumbling over the pavement, not a single car in sight, nothing other than the dim streetlights shining down on us, the sound of gravel underneath our feet and Amber humming a song being the only thing echoing in the streets surrounding us.

"What song is that?" I ask her, my curiosity getting the best of me.

"Ugh, just some song stuck in my head," she says as she gives herself little flicks with her middle finger and thumb on her forehead, trying to literally get it out of her mind. Well, that's one way to do it, I guess.

"All the people want to know your name
Soon there will be lines outside your door
Feelings do not matter in your game
Yeah, 'cause nothing's gonna touch you anymore"

She belts out the lyrics in a deep voice, trying to imitate the original singer, but I still have no idea what the song is, so I scrunch up my eyebrows at her charade.

She takes in my confusion, and looks at me like I'd just committed a crime, widening her eyes, "You don't know Billy Joel?"

"Uh-" I don't know how to answer as I feel my cheeks heating up a bit from embarrassment.

"Oh, c'mon, spaghetti-head, get a grip," she scoffs, acting annoyed, but then breaking out in a grin as she reaches on her toes, and ruffles my hair.

I hear Landon snigger at her choice of nickname. Spaghetti-head. Is it because of my hair? No one's ever called me that.

"Wait, no... Doesn't that mean you're a fusilli-head since you've chopped your hair off?" she asks, confusion written on her face, as she's battling with her thoughts now, and I just let out a loud cackle at the whole debate with herself.

As we approach a gas station, Amber's eyes light up, "Guysssss, let's go buy some snacks!" she whines almost like a little child at a fairground, bouncing on her heels, as her curls jump with each movement.

"I mean, the gas station always has the best sweets," I agree with her, walking in the small store, all kinds of foods and drinks surrendering us

"See, exactly! Finally somebody agrees with me!" she exclaims, making a point to Landon, who's already heading in the direction of the snack section of the store, shaking his head.

She picks out some sour gummy worms, grabbing cash out of her back pocket. I immediately stop her from making any further action, "I'll pay, don't worry," I express, reaching for my wallet.

"Nuh-huh, did you forget how much you tipped me today? I'm really grateful for it, by the way. But nope, I can pay for myself now," she demands, a smile lingering on her lips, leaving no space for arguments. I sigh, letting her do her own thing. If I've learnt one thing about her today, it's that she is very stubborn.

The walk out of the store is very quiet, none of us saying anything. I've noticed that Landon is pretty quiet in general and seems to be more of an observer.

The sound of her opening the pack of sour worms brings me out of my trance. I reach in the pack, in hopes to retrieve a worm, but she swats my hand away.

"Heeeey, the pink and blue ones are mine! Take the orange and green ones for all I care," she slurs, throwing a half-pink, half-blue worm in her mouth. If looks could kill, I'd be dead immediately.

I chuckle, taking the orange and green worm and throwing it in my mouth, the sour taste making me scrunch up my nose, soon to be replaced with a nice, sweet taste.

I reach in the pack for another one, but she turns away, prohibiting me from taking them. She takes out another one, holding it by the yellow end between two fingers, "Can you catch it with your mouth?" she wiggles her eyebrows, smiles never leaving our faces.

"Catching things isn't the only thing I can do with my mouth," I reply, ripping the joke. I can't help the grin threatening to break out on my face.

"Oh c'mon, fusilli. You can do better than that," she retorts, clearly not surprised by my remark, then throwing the gummy worm in the air for me to catch. Wow, her aim is shit. Though, I still catch it.

"Wow, I didn't know my aim was that good!" she laughs. I can't tell if she's being serious or not.

Both of us turn our heads towards Landon, who is now scrolling through his phone,  smoking a Camel cigarette, clearly not invested in this conversation. It looks like he's just tagging along to keep an eye on her or something.

"Oh for fuck's sake, Landon," she sighs, earning a "What?" in response.

"I mean if you're gonna smoke, at least smoke the good shit like Malboro's or something," she scolds but then snips it from his fingers and takes a drag out of it, creating a cloud of white lingering in the air as she exhales, her jawline very prominent right now.

"Ok, mom," he says sarcastically, rolling his eyes, then taking it back from her fingers, seemingly not pleased with her smoking. I can't help but just let out a loud laugh about their exchange.

As we approach a row of houses, Landon sighs, "Well, we're at my house," he looks in the direction of what I presume is his house, "Amber, text me when you're home, alright?" he says, now completely serious.

"I will, thank you," she reassures, before we say our farewells to Landon, and watch as he disappears into his home. The sound of Amber audibly chewing the gummy worms makes me break out in a grin. At this point, my cheeks hurt from the duration of my smiles. Maybe I'm just way too drunk to be serious.

"I live a couple of minutes away from here, so I'll be fine going home on my own," she begins, locking her hazel eyes with mine, as I wonder what secrets is she hiding behind them.

"No, let me walk you home," I offer. I don't know why, but just the thought of her being drunk and stumbling around dark streets all alone disturbs me. I don't even know why I care.

Maybe it's how my mum raised me, maybe it's because I'm not sure if we'll ever meet again, but maybe I just want to be in her presence for a bit longer, because frankly, I don't remember the last time I laughed as hard as I did tonight.

She seems to have a mental debate with herself, her eyes frantically scanning over my frame, possibly looking for any signs of deceit. She looks behind her, checking her surroundings, looking at her phone, then sighing.

"Fine, but just to the door," she states her boundaries.

"Won't set my foot past your doormat, I promise," I declare and she visibly relaxes. I mean, if I were in her place, I probably wouldn't trust a half-drunk stranger to walk me home either, but the thought of taking advantage of her hasn't even crossed my mind. I just want to make sure she makes it home safely and doesn't end up knocked out in the bushes or something.

She heads in the direction of her house, small stumbles leading the way. She empties the rest of the pack of sweets and runs to find the nearest rubbish bin where she throws in the remnants of the sour gummy.

"Sooo, tell me something about yourself," she says, walking beside me, shaking the citric acid from the gummy worms off her hands.

"Well, I joined a boyband when I was sixteen, toured all ove-" I start reciting the story I tell everyone who wants to hear something about myself, but I get interrupted by her loud cackle.

"Nonono, I don't want to hear any of that fame and boyband bullshit. Tell me something about you," she specifies, taking me by surprise. Nobody has ever asked me to tell them something about me. Everyone's always invested in my fame and career.

Now that I think of it, I don't think there's much to tell about myself. My whole career has consumed me and I've lost myself in the process. My world's dull.

I genuinely don't think I can find one fact about myself that doesn't have anything to do with my fame.

I mean, I've traveled the whole world touring, yet I haven't actually seen it. I've kept up a look that society wants me to be, yet I don't know what my true look is.

Do you see the pattern?

No matter the places I have toured in, I never actually had the opportunity to explore the cities; they all had the same avenues, the same stages, the same crowds.

I never had the choice of clothing; God forbid I dressed in any other clothes than black skinny jeans and dark t-shirts.

It's pathetic.

"Oh, c'mon tell me something. I won't remember anything in the morning anyway," she begs me to speak and I literally have no idea what to say to her, as a moment of gravel crunching underneath our shoes overtakes the silence.

"Well for starters, I fucking love pasta," I joke, a big smile on my face.

She breaks out in a huge cackle, both of us laughing at the irony of her nicknaming me after pasta kinds, "Yeah?" she acknowledges my avoidance of answering the question, but doesn't push me to reply seriously.

"I mean, the fusilli not so much, but the fettuccine or penne are the best kinds," I continue on with the joke, still grinning.

"Nah, the bow ties are the best ones," she disagrees, strutting a bit ahead of me now, as I reply, "Debatable," and she just hums in response, whilst looking at the ground, her walking quite wobbly from the alcohol.

How did we go from talking about some Billy Joel guy to discussing the best pasta kinds?

"I swear these heels will be the death of me," she states, scrunching up her full brows, then coming to a halt, "Wait," she rests one hand on my shoulder for balance, while taking off her heels, her tongue in between her lips, "Much better." She grins, carrying the big shoes in her hands.

"Give them to me," I offer help, before she narrows her eyes, but finally gives in.

"Ugh, always such a gentleman," she hoaxes, playfully rolling her eyes while letting me carry the 5-inch heels. How can you even walk around in these monsters?

"Yeah, I guess my mum raised me one. She's pretty amazing, if I'm honest," I chuckle, looking deep into her eyes, the streetlights above us giving her a warm glow.

I never open up to anyone, but something about her makes me want to. Eh, maybe it's the fact she won't remember anything tomorrow anyway.

"You know, my dad used to say that if a man speaks highly of his mom, he's a good one," she giggles a bit, trying to catch up with my big strides now.

"Well, your dad's a wise man then," I affirm, smiling widely.

"Yeah, yeah he was," she says, now looking to the ground, a bittersweet smile lingering on her lips.

Oh.

"Sorry I didn't mea-" I immediately start apologizing, but I'm interrupted once again.

"Don't worry, it's fine, it was a long time ago," she reassures, a smile still present on her face.

She's a bit ahead of me now, slightly hopping, her caramel locks bouncing with each step she takes.

Thank god. Way to be a mood-killer, Harry.

We walk a few moments in silence, before we reach a flat complex's gated doors, "Well, I guess this is it," she claims, as I catch a slight glimpse of disappointment in her eyes.

"Yeah, well, maybe I'll see you around soon," I reply, trying to lighten up her mood, though considering my busy schedule, I'm not very hopeful I'll see her again.

"Thank you for walking me home," she conveys, a perfect set of teeth smiling at me.

"Of course, don't forget to text Landon," I point a finger at her as she nods.

She grabs her keys, entering the door code, and opening the front door widely, a row of apartment doors in my vision now.

"See you around!" she exclaims, before closing the door before me.

I try to organize my thoughts on the way to my house, but everything's scrambled. Why is there a part of me that doesn't want either of us to forget this night?

***

well well well...

When writing this story, I realized that there are some coincidences with another story called "Cherry" by fuxkingharrry (which you should definitely check out), but I promise you, the fear of cars has a whole different meaning!
I read that story a really, really long time ago, so I apologize if some things are fairly similar, but I'm truly not trying to copy anything <3

I'm really trying to make this a slow burn as much as possible, but it's not that easy.

Reminder! They start off as "just friends", which eventually turns into more.

please stick around for at least a few more chapters <3

thank you for all the comments, I really appreciate them!

that vote button is looking very tempting, innit?

xx