Capernoited

(Adj.) peevish; tipsy or slightly intoxicated

London 2014

The music was blasting through the huge speakers, the bass could be felt through the floors and the loud volume made every kind of communication nearly impossible. The teenagers didn't seem to mind though, they were dancing drunkenly, grinding, throwing their hands up in the air as if they didn't have a care in the world. Most of the people were so wasted they didn't even smell the unpleasant, but not unfamiliar, stench of alcohol, smoke and hot bodies that grossed out the few remaining sober ones.

Abigail, or Abby as she liked to be called, stood in the corner next to the bar and watched them, humour written all over her face. She enjoyed watching them making fools out of themselves, dancing with complete strangers, not caring about the consequences. She knew they were going to regret it the day after when day wake up in someone else's bed with a terrible headache, but they were having fun, which was nice to see.

Smiling the petite blonde brought her fruity drink to her lips and sipped it, making a face at the sour taste. It was alcohol free and she hadn't let it out of her sight in fear of getting spiked, there were some sketchy people in this club, but the drink wasn't any good. A mixture between lemon and all kinds of bittersweet sodas which gave it a nice colour, but did nothing to improve the taste. Shaking her head she abandoned the drink at the bar and made her way to the backdoor, greeting the club owner as she went.

She, as one of the only sober ones, had helped him out one day he had gotten a little too much to drink. As a thanks she was allowed into all the VIP spots and her drinks were free. She treated the bar like her second home and she and the owner, called Leroy, became friends.

She opened the door and closer her eyes as she took a deep breath of the cold, fresh air and let out a pleasured sigh. The back alley smelled like piss and alcohol, but it wasn't as bad as inside.

Abby plugged in her ear buds and walked towards the street, eager to get home as fast as possible. She had never been totally comfortable walking the streets on her own at night.

She was about to turn a corner when she heard raised voices from across the street. Several slashes went off, capturing her attention. Abby turned around to see what was happening.

A few people with huge cameras were taking pictures of a guy that was trying to make his way to his car. It was dark, so she couldn't see him clearly, but it was obvious that he was pretty wasted.

She felt bad for the poor boy, no one wanted to be taken pictures off whilst looking like that, so she walked over to him, ignoring the flashing cameras.

'Who are you?' He slurred as he stumbled closer to his car.

Abby looked closer and realized he was pretty handsome. He was tall with curly chestnut coloured hair that framed his face nicely, his eyes were slightly bloodshot, but still an intense colour green, the singlet he wore underneath his blazer showed off his abs and his lips were plump and pink.

'Harry Styles!' she cursed under her breath as she recognized him. 'Just my luck to meet a fucking popstar, a drunk one too!'

'I'm Harry Styles!' He cried out, his eyes getting slightly clearer, he studied Abby for a minute, but shook his head in disappointment. 'You're not me,' he stated, causing Abby to chuckle.

'No shit Sherlock. I'm Abigail.'

'I'm famous.' Harry told her pompously.

O god, Abby though to herself, not only a popstar, a snobby one too. But, snobby or not, she couldn't leave him here, drunk with paparazzi on his tail. Letting out a frustrated sigh she grabbed his arm and started talking.

'Yeah, I know buddy, you're famous and you're drunk. So unless you want your famous face all over the gossip magazines first thing tomorrow I suggest you come with me. Let's get you out of here.'

It took some time for Harry to catch the meaning of her words, but when he did he nodded lazily.

'Okay.' He muttered and grabbed Abigail's hand.

The pair started walking, or, Abby walked, Harry just stumbled behind.

Abby was a little stressed, trying to get home as fast as possible. The paparazzi didn't follow, but she was afraid they might pop up any minute.

It was a short walk from the club to her apartment, just about 2 minutes, but Harry struggled keeping his balance and slowed them down.

'Come on, Styles!' Abby said after he'd stumbled for the tenth time. 'Hurry up!'

'But I'm tired.' He moaned, grasping her hand tighter as he was about to fall again.

'We're almost there,' She said impatiently. 'Now hurry up!'

Abby wasn't a patient person, she never had been. If things were moving too slowly she would personally make sure they'd speed up. The funny thing was, they usually did. She might not look very intimidating, just 5 foot 5, blond hair and startling green eyes, but she was fierce and didn't back down. If she wanted something she tended to get it. Harry's slow pace annoyed her, so after letting out a few frustrated huffs she started speed walking, not letting go of his hand, forcing him to come along.

'Girly, slow down!' Harry whined, he had already forgotten her name.

Abby frowned at the terrible nickname, but instead of slowing down, she sped up.

Stupid popstar.

The two minute walk took 10 minutes and by the time they got inside Abigail was pretty pissed.

'You think I'm hot, don't you?' Harry slurred as he dropped down on the couch and took off all of his clothes, including his boxers.

'Irresistible.' Abby replied with a sarcastic smile and turned her head away quickly.

'I knew it.'

She rolled her eyes at him, but his vision was so blurry he couldn't see it. He let his head fall back and fell asleep almost immediately.

Shaking her head at her own stupidity for helping him out in the first place, she took out a few blankets and draped the carefully over the sleeping boy.

Well, she thought to herself, he probably won't remember much of it, I'll be rid of him by tomorrow.

You owe me bigtime, popstar.

Make sure you're out of my apartment by eleven.

Those were the words scribbled down on the bright yellow post-it that had been stuck to Harry's forehead.

Harry had woken up only minutes before and after struggling to sit up straight he had tried to look around, only to find his vision blocked by the small piece of paper. He read the small note several times, wondering what had happened the night before.

He looked around, he was in someone's living room. It was spacious and clean, large windows letting in much light and giving a great view of the street below, a huge TV taking up most of the wall that seemed to separate the kitchen from the livingroom where a beautiful old chandelier hang from the ceiling. The whole room radiating a sense of luxury and elegance.

The couch Harry had been sleeping on was a light beige colour and Harry found it pretty comfortable. There were some blankets on the floor next to the couch along with his clothes. He looked down at his body, not surprised at its nakedness, only wondering if he slept with someone the night before. Judging from the note, he probably did.

Shaking his head he tried to stand up, but only sat back down again with a groan. The shock of waking up in someone's apartment had caused him to forget about his hangover, but now that he thought of it he couldn't ignore it anymore, the throbbing pain in his head serving as a reminder of last night's events. Not that he remembered much of it.

He let his eyes sweep over the coffee table until he saw a glass of water with some painkillers. He picked it up and swallowed the small pill, smiling as he did so. He sure knew how to pick them, even when he was drunk. This girl seemed feisty with a sense of humour. He was a little annoyed at himself for not remembering her name, or at least her looks. He just assumed she was okay looking.

He smirked to himself and put on last night's clothes, it was only ten thirty, so he decided to treat himself to breakfast. It's not like she would care, he was Harry Styles after all.

Abigail had been walking the streets of London since eight o'clock. She liked to watch the city come to live. She liked to see the people that were rushing by, trying to get to work as soon as possible. It was fascinating, watching how they stressed to get to the underground, running as if their lives depended on it even though a train would leave every two minutes and they really had nothing to stress about. She shook her head in amusement and walked to the tiny cafe hidden in the shadow of a much larger Starbucks.

'Double expresso and a brownie, right?' Jayde, the girl behind the counter asked as soon as Abby opened the door. Ever since she found out that Jayde, a childhood friend of hers, worked here she had been coming here every day, ordering the same thing every time. The people that worked there all knew her, and made sure her coffee was ready a few minutes before she entered.

'Yes please, thank you Jay.' Abby answered, grinning at how predictable she was. She couldn't help herself, it was just so good.

She took her coffee and sat down in the chair by the window. The cafe was nearly empty, only an old couple were sitting in the corner in the back, so she knew Jayde would sit down with her in a few minutes, she had done that ever since the first day. And indeed, only a few minutes later the petite redhead appeared and sat down in the chair opposite to her.

'So,' she began. 'What is going on between you and a certain Harry Styles?'