-Carter-
My gaze roamed the entire room, but I could not see the guy from Harper‘s company. I asked the bartenders, who were busy packing the alcohol into boxes, but they didn't help me with my search. Nobody seemed to know where the hell the guy went.
"Maybe you should call her," Zayn suggested, sipping a water bottle. All those drinks had made him a little drunk, and he slightly swayed on his feet.
"Although if I were her, I would rather hide at home than answer anyone's calls. Or better yet, put my ass on the nearest plane to Sri Lanka and drank my sadness in a bottle of vodka." He added, surprisingly sounding quite sensible. Not the Sri Lanka part, but home sounded more like Harper.
"Will you return to the hotel alone, or should I arrange transport? I can call someone to pick you u
