Stuck in the Middle, Part One: Friends & Talks (6.8k)
Hello! I am so sorry for the delay. College is sneaking up on me in the worst ways and we all know I’m not very good at scheduled writing. The good news is that the first part is officially here! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it.
June 2021
A loud, crowded bar would never be your first choice of location on a Saturday night. Frankly, you’d rather be at home with your group of friends making dinner and putting on a film. Unfortunately, they had wanted to go out for the night and you were a bit of a pushover when it came to promises of vodka and other various cocktails. Eventually you were lured out the door and tugged into a cab on the heels of your friends.
It’s exactly how you end up sweating and sighing at The Hog and Hound, tapping your foot to the bass shaking the bar and waiting for the kind bartender to make your vodka tonic. You cast a worried – albeit amused – glance over to the karaoke stage. Your two closest friends Jack and Whinnie are screaming into the mics on the flimsy stage to Shania Twain, the crowd that’s gathered in front of them shaking with laughter and whooping occasionally. You wince when Whinnie kicks off her tall heels while continuing to shout lyrics into the microphone. As you sigh quietly, Whinnie catches your eye and blows you a flourished kiss before slinging an arm around Jack and causing them both to stumble slightly. Laughter bubbles out of you and you blow a kiss back to her as they straighten up and continue singing.
A tap on your shoulder has you turning around just as the bartender sets down your drink on the bar in front of you. You grin, wrapping your hand around the glass and pinching the lime wedge before dropping it in the glass.
“Thank you,” you say loudly over the music. He smiles. He’s handsome, probably mid-forties with bright blue eyes and greying hair. A gold ring glints on his ring finger and his eyes crinkle with his grin.
“Your friend,” he gestures, voice thick with an accent you can’t place – your best guess would be Eastern European, “she’s a bit of a party animal.” You laugh, bobbing your head side to side in agreement and taking a heavy swallow of the drink. The cool, perfect balance of it has you humming happily before Whinnie shrieks a particularly high note into the microphone. The bartender erupts into laughter as you shake your head with a wince and down another gulp of your drink.
“I should probably–” you wave your hand vaguely in the direction of the stage, earning another laugh from the man in front of you, “thanks again. I’ll probably be seeing you shortly.”
“Good luck,” he grins, wiping down the ring of condensation your glass left behind as you begin making your way through the crowd. The end of the song is vibrating through the bar and you mumble apologies as you shoulder your way through the crowd. The song finally ends as you reach the makeshift platform. Whinnie and Jack cheer their thanks to the crowd before stumbling off the stage.
Whinnie embraces you with a cry of, “My love!” as her long arms wrap around you tightly. You laugh, a bit of your drink spilling onto the floor as she sways back and forth with you wildly. Jack follows her off stage with her shoes in one hand.
“Wonderful rendition, mate,” you rib him over Whinnie’s shoulder, “thought maybe it was Shania herself.” Jack rolls his eyes, dropping Whinny’s shoes on the floor and leaning to press a firm kiss to your cheek in greeting.
“Brat,” he mutters, grinning at you. You smile sweetly at him and steady Whinnie as she pulls away from you. Jack releases you and before you blink he disappears into the crowd, presumably headed to the bar.
“Put on your shoes, babe,” you snort as Whinnie sways. With a whine she’s slipping into the heels and once again standing six inches taller than before. With a bit of a wobble and a happy laugh, she’s squeezing your hand and beginning her walk away from you.
“Off to the bar!” She crows, beaming, waving off any sort of attempt you make to persuade her to drink some water, and soon she’s swallowed into the crowd as well. You sigh softly, lifting your glass to your lips. You’ll find her eventually – most likely with her arms draped over the toilet or in the lap of the leggy blonde that’s been eying her all night. These thoughts are interrupted when a large hand slides to the small of your back and makes you freeze.
“She’s a wild one, our Whinnie,” a low voice chuckles in your ear. With an affronted yet relieved scoff, you spin and face Harry whose palm slides away as his dimples come into focus.
You’d forgotten Harry was here tonight, to be honest. He hasn’t been in your circle of friends very long – really only since you’d started a neuropsychology seminar in January with Jack and Whinnoie. Harry had been in it too. It wasn’t a large course, he was friendly, and slowly his group blended with yours. He’s joined all of you on a few outings, usually meeting up with you at the bar and leaving with someone before you do. Never one to slut shame, you admire his drive even if it does tweak you with just the slightest bit of jealousy.
There’s something very disarming about Harry and it keeps you on edge whenever he’s around. He’s tall and lean with muscle from running with a group of guys in your seminar class. You really only know this because Jack is in the group as well and wakes up your flat much too frequently with squeaking sneakers and the slam of the front door early on Saturdays. Harry has tattoos up and down his arms and torso that you’ve never really gotten a good look at. Frankly, it doesn’t matter if they’re stupid or meaningful they suit him so well. His smile is crooked and charming and he has a horrible habit of flirting with you until your lungs feel like they’re going to pop. He’s never crossed any lines or made you uncomfortable, in fact it always seems like he’s taking the piss a bit because he fucks off with someone else before you can even manage a response or bounce back with a flirt of your own.
Not that you want to flirt with him.
“She likes to have fun,” you concede with a polite laugh, guard up when he smiles at you.
Harry’s patterned shirt is unbuttoned almost completely and the shirt tails are tucked crookedly into his trousers. His waist is looped with a worn, brown leather belt embroidered with a red and orange dragon. You can’t help the smile that quirks your lips as you take in his outfit of choice. He always has had eclectic taste.
He’s grinning at you crookedly, eyes clear and bright. It looks like he’s holding a glass of water with lemon, his gold rings and blue nail polish winking up at you. Something about nail polish on a man is unfairly attractive, especially when the rest of him looks like Harry. You swallow, meeting his gaze again.
“You look ravishing, love,” he murmurs, blinking lazily, “absolutely stunning.” You roll your eyes with a laugh and spin on your heel, beginning your quest to find Whinnie before she does something regrettable that she’ll whine about for the next three days. Harry scoffs, choking out a laugh and follows you, hot on your heels.
“What did I say?” He demands, laughter bubbling between his words.
You snort, shaking your head again and mumbling apologies as you bump into patrons and Harry bumps into them after you as he rushes to catch up.
“Can’t compliment you now? Bloody rubbish, that is.”
“Sod off, Styles,” you retort with minimal bite, scanning the crowd for your friends, “I’m not in the mood. I need to find Whinnie and Jack.”
Harry whistles in offense and you frown when you fail to find Whinnie at the bar. One of Harry’s broad shoulders brushes yours as he comes to stand beside you, also scanning.
“You really don’t like me very much,” Harry observes thoughtfully, and you look at him with wide eyes and your mouth open in shock. His eyes meet yours, a shrug of his shoulders earning him a huff of disbelief.
“That’s not true,” you manage with your cheeks warming. It seems he’s caught on to your determined avoidance. “I like you fine.” Harry laughs, eyes meeting yours.
“Could’ve fooled me.” He says plainly. “You rush off every time I talk to you.” You set your jaw and turn to face him.
“That’s because you’re taking the piss every time you talk to me,” you say bluntly, “there’s not a lot of reason to stick around.”
“Not taking the piss,” he mutters with a snort, shaking his head. You simply hum, ignoring him and turning back to look over the crowd.
“Do you see Whin?” You ask him, standing on your tiptoes. Harry cranes his head around to look behind where the two of you stand. You continue to scan the room, eyes narrowing when you see someone who looks like your best friend before sighing quietly in defeat. Jack seems to have also disappeared and you fight the annoying anxiety that pipes up in the back of your head.
“Dunno,” Harry says finally, “maybe we should check the bathroom.” You agree, mentally preparing yourself for Whinnie to be puking and your role of holding back her hair. Harry pushes his way forward first, clearing a path for you as you follow him. Your eyes fall on the broad span of his back and his wide shoulders. The fabric of his shirt hugs the smooth planes of muscle nicely and something in your lower belly twinges. Clearing your throat and with a slight shake of your head you focus your attention back on the game plan to get a drunk Whinnie and maybe Jack into a cab and up the five flights of stairs at your flat.
“I’ll check in here,” Harry mutters, shouldering open the men’s room door before disappearing inside with a call of, “just in case.” You pop into the women’s room, scanning and calling out for Whinnie. No response.
Sighing, you trail back out into the hall. Harry is standing and waiting for you, leaned against the wall. His arms are crossed over his chest and the door bangs shut behind you.
“She’s not in there?” You ask him, eyes big.. Harry shakes his head, brow furrowed with concern. “Shit,” you mutter, pulling your phone out of your jeans. Admittedly, you’re a little surprised that Harry remains leaned against the wall of the small hallway, eyes on you. Normally he would be close to getting someone in a cab with him or already have disappeared into the night with them.
“I’m sure she’s fine,” he says quietly, plucking your drink from you as you fumble to unlock your phone, long fingers brushing yours, “you know Whinnie and Jack, they like adventures.” You laugh just slightly under your breath as you tap Whinnie’s contact, ignoring the satisfied smile that slides onto Harry’s face.
“I do,” you agree, putting the phone to your ear, meeting his gaze, “that’s what worries me.” Harry huffs a laugh and as the ringing begins in your ear your good friend Mika stumbles into the hall.
“Lo, babes,” he greets you both, grinning widely, white blonde hair sticking up wildly, “I’ve been looking for you for ages. Darling,” he addresses you as Whinnie’s voicemail begins, “Whinnie and Jack caught a cab home. Apparently she was feeling ill and didn’t want to cut your night short.”
“Seriously?” You ask with groan as Harry erupts with laughter. You drop the phone and slide it back into your pocket. “God they’re infuriating.” Mika coos his sympathy as you take your drink back from Harry.
“Sorry, pet,” Harry murmurs despite his shoulders shaking with laughter. You scowl at him and take a hefty swig of your drink. Mika squeezes your hand before he’s sliding past you and into the men’s room before patting Harry on the chest in greeting. The door shuts behind him as you begin pulling out your phone once more. “What are you doing?” Harry asks, brow furrowing as you unlock the device.
“Getting an Uber,” you sigh quietly, “I’m ready to go home.”
“By yourself?” You smirk at the disbelief in his voice.
“I’m a big girl, Styles,” you say, “I can handle a cab ride home alone.”
You bend down, setting your glass on the floor this time instead of letting him take it and he sips at his water, eyebrows drawn together. It’s when you’re turning on your location for the app that he speaks up again.
“Let me take you home.”
You glance up at him, eyebrows raised. He stares evenly at you, running a hand through his curls before his hand drops back to his side. He’s still holding his water.
“Seriously?” It slips out before you can help it and Harry’s head tilts to the side, lips curling up on one side and showcasing a dimple.
“Please. I don’t want you in an Uber by yourself. I brought the truck and I’ll have you back at the flat in ten minutes tops.”
You eye him suspiciously, sliding your phone back into your pocket.
“I have to settle my tab…” you trail off, crossing your arms over your chest. Harry’s smile is wide and smug. You roll your eyes, pushing off the wall before retrieving your drink. “You haven’t been drinking right?” Harry holds up his water in response and you bob your head in understanding.
“I’ll bring the truck around and meet you at the front,” he says before trailing down the hall and disappearing. You huff a breath of disbelief – if someone had told you six hours ago you were going to be ending the night in Harry’s car you would have told them to fuck off. Shaking off your surprise you follow him and make your way to the bar.
After paying your tab and bidding goodnight to the friendly bartender and your group of friends, you make your way to the front door of the bar and step into the humid air. Harry’s truck is pulled against the curb with it’s hazards blinking. You suck in a breath of preparation before making your way over and cranking open the door.
“Lo,” he greets, staring and scrolling through his phone as you climb into the passenger seat. Soft music begins to play through the speakers and you fasten your seatbelt as his phone lands with a clunk in the cupholder. “Fancy seeing you here.” His voice is cheeky and you snort, rolling your eyes and settling back in the seat. Harry’s still grinning as he checks the mirrors and pulls out onto the street.
There’s a pleasant silence for the first few minutes of the ride. You lean back in the leather of the seats, tapping your foot along to what you think is The Strokes. The song changes to something softer that you don’t recognize, and you clear your throat. Suddenly, you’re nervous, but you push through it to glance at him. One of his large hands is draped over the steering wheel, the gold H ring twisted crookedly and facing you. The other hand is laying relaxed on the gear shift and you swallow thickly when he flexes it absentmindedly before relaxing it once more.
“Thank you,” you speak over the music, dragging your eyes along the sharp angle of his jw and up to his eyes. He glances over at you, an unruly curl falling onto his forehead. “For taking me home. I appreciate it, really.” You stare straight ahead, refusing to look at him. He’s silent for a few seconds.
“You know,” you steal a glance at him once more and a dimple is shadowing his cheek, “I think that might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“You ruined it,” you say easily, staring back at the road and crossing your arms over his chest as his laughter fills the truck, “asshole.” He laughs harder at that and you fight a twitch of your lips.
“Sorry,” he manages, still laughing, “you’re welcome. Truly, it’s no trouble. We’re friends.” You nod, arms still crossed. Sitting so closely to him is putting you on edge. If you really look at him you’re sure you can see the occasional freckle on his cheek or the tiny scar on his chin. His cologne fills the car, warm and a little bit feminine like vanilla. You clear your throat, succumbing to Harry’s soft hums and the rumble of the street under the tires.
The rest of the ride passes in silence apart from his playlist and before you know it, you’re pulling up to your apartment. Harry parks the car, reaching over and turning down the stereo just slightly.
“Thank you,” you meet his eyes this time and they crinkle at the corners, “seriously, Styles.”
“Sure,” he says easily, smiling widely at you, “like I said, anytime.” You snort, gripping the handle of the door and cranking it open.
“Get home safe, okay?” You ask as you jump down from the truck and check to make sure you have all your essentials.
“Always.”
With a final wave you slam the door shut and hurry up the walkway to your flat. When you're at the foot of the steps the engine of the truck revs. You hear the scratch of tires on asphalt as Harry backs out of the lot when you set your foot on the first step. It finally feels like you can breathe again with some distance between the two of you and you suck in a grateful gulp of air that’s not permeated by his cologne.
Three minutes later after a laborious journey up the stairs to your flat, you kick off your shoes in the entryway. Your phone buzzes in your hand and you glance down at it.
Got home safe. Thought you might worry. Good luck with Whin. Xx, Harry
You roll your eyes, stuffing your phone in your pocket. You forgot he lives so close to you. You admit, you’re relieved he got home safe, but that’s normal. You have a heart for godsake, the man drove you home and you see him regularly. It’s normal to worry.
Whinnie stumbling into the entryway breaks you from your thoughts. She squints at you suspiciously before breaking into a grin and laughing in apparent relief. She’s changed from her dress and into what you think are a pair of Mika’s bright orange sweatpants and a huge, neon green hoodie. The combination makes you shake your head, a fond smile pulling at your lips.
“Christ,” she giggles as you make your way to her, “I thought you were a robber!”
“Lovely,” you snort as she wraps you in a hug, “thanks for abandoning me, by the way. Great surprise.” Whinnie pulls back, a sincere look on her face.
“I really am sorry about that. No excuses. I felt really ill and didn’t want to ruin your night but… yeah. We’re arseholes.” You laugh softly, trailing into the kitchen with her following you.
“It’s okay, promise. I survived, you just had me worried.”
You pull open the fridge and retrieve spring rolls Jack made yesterday afternoon. Whinnie slides onto a stool and watches you sleepily as you dish them out onto two separate plates before sliding her one.
“You have to eat, Whin,” you say when she wrinkles her nose in distaste. After a moment of her glaring at the plate with a frown, she picks one up and bites into it. “Is Jackie Boy sleeping?” You ask. Whinnie bobs her head.
“He passed out when we got back.”
You finish the spring rolls in silence before Whinnie’s heaving a sigh and pushing her plate away.
“Did you take an Uber?” You shake your head, snatching up her plate and stacking it with yours in the sink.
“Harry took me home,” you say as Whinnie slides off her stool and follows after you as you flip off the lights in the flat. You roll your eyes as Whinnie gives you a look. “What?”
“Why?” She asks bluntly. “You hate Harry.”
“I do not!” You exclaim, throwing your hands up as she leans against the wall. “Why does everyone think that?”
“Because you do?” Her eyebrow arches. “You’ve told me multiple times that you can’t stand him.”
You guppy for a moment. Maybe a few times after too many and Harry vanishing with a person you find much prettier than you, you’ve drunkenly declared that you find him rude, infuriating and insufferable. Tequila can do bad things when it’s paired with jealousy and an audience.
“I’m going to bed,” you declare instead of responding, “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Fine,” Whinnie consents as you disappear into your bedroom, “sleep tight!”
August 2021
You told Whinnie having a small get together to kick off the new school year at your flat wasn’t the best idea. For one, it’s tiny – the living room is cramped and the kitchen and bedrooms aren’t much better. The three of you are already on top of each other as it is, adding twenty more people to the mix has your anxiety levels rising.
Naturally, you were out voted and Whinnie and Jack both entered party mode with planning and preparations.
The flat is packed to the gills, loud chatter bouncing in from every direction. You’re not even sure how Whinnie knows this many people, in fact, you have a sneaking suspicion that a lot of them are simply friends of friends of friends. Currently you’re standing in a tightly smushed group of maybe six or seven friends, Jack’s arm draped around your shoulders. You suppose you’ve been quiet for awhile because he squeezes you gently.
“Alright?” You smile as Jack leans down to murmur in your ear. The group you’re standing with continues on with conversation and you swallow back the remnants of your drink.
“Fine,” you say breezily, smiling up at him. His eyes are warm, lips curving up as you answer him, “I’m gonna go get a refill. Save me a spot.” Jack nods as you slide away from him and sigh as you try and visualize the best route to get to the kitchen.
“Excuse me,” you sing softly under your breath, sliding past a cluster of people who erupt into laughter as you pass by, someone showing them an apparently hilarious video on the tiny screen of their phone. Your drink is empty and you weave between people and finally push through into the kitchen. There’s much less people in the small, tiled room, one in particular that makes your heart jump to your throat.
Harry has his back to you and it looks like he’s fixing a drink at the makeshift bar. He’s dressed down in a white shirt and light wash jeans that sit low on his hips. Broad shoulders shift and ripple as he finishes up whatever drink he’s been making. You take a deep breath and then you’re saddling up next to him. Harry turns as you set your glass down, and your heart swells when he beams and meets your eyes.
“Lo,” he greets cheerily, turning to face you fully, “it’s been ages.” You hum your agreement, reaching over him for the bottle of vodka that’s nearly half gone. Harry snatches it back from you and you squawk in disbelief. He grins smugly, turning back to the bar. It looks like he hasn’t shaved in a few days, stubble lining his cheeks and the top of his throat. The collar of his shirt is stretched wide and you can see the wings of the birds tattooed on his chest.
“Can you not be insufferable for five seconds?” You demand as he picks up your glass and deposits it in front of him. Familiar gold rings glint up at you and you blink quickly when long fingers twist off the cap of the vodka and toss it on the counter. His nails are baby pink now and you fight a weak whimper.
“S’not anyway to talk to your bartender, is it, darling?” Harry asks, earning a roll of your eyes so far back you swear you can see your brain.
“You truly are the most annoying person I’ve ever met.”
“I’m making you a vodka tonic,” Harry says with laughter in his voice, “maybe you could try not verbally abusing me while I do so.” He pours the vodka carefully into the glass and then retrieves the tonic water set to the side.
“Do you need a lime?” Your voice is softer now as you watch him measure carefully, lips moving around silent counts. He doesn’t look at you but hums his assent, setting the bottle down.
“A knife too, pet, if you would,” he murmurs. You bob your head once. The other people in your kitchen have cleared out, leaving the two of you alone. You open the fridge, rifling through the vegetable drawer before retrieving a nice, cold lime. The fridge shuts firmly as you yank open the drawer right next to it and pick up a knife. You set them next to your glass.
“Here,” you murmur, throat suddenly tight and you want to smack yourself. He’s making you a drink, not proposing, but it feels strangely intimate.
“Cheers.”
After cutting the lime in half and then slicing it up easily, he squeezes it before dropping it in the glass.Harry turns to you with your glass in hand. He has a victorious look on his face. You eye him suspiciously before taking the drink and taking a sip. A groan bubbles up in your throat – it really is perfect.
“So?”
“It’s fine,” you say breezily. Harry laughs, shaking his head. He crosses his arms over his chest, green eyes rolling before meeting yours again. His smile is crooked, head tilting to the side.
“And I’m the insufferable one?”
“Don’t be a twat,” you sing under your breath, taking another sip of your drink as he shakes his head. You pat him on the bicep, sliding past him. “Thanks for the drink. Enjoy the party.” You slide out of the kitchen, his eyes hot on the back of your head until you’re out of sight.
...
He finds you again a few hours later.
“Got a question for you.”
You’re back at the counter top, screwing caps back on bottles and setting them neatly to the side to clear the counter. You glance at Harry who’s leaned against the counter and invading your personal space a little more than usual. He’s frowning and you hum to indicate you’re listening before setting another bottle to the side.
He doesn’t say anything and you glance at him again. Curls are falling against his forehead in an unintelligible pattern and his eyes are gloomy and focused on yours. His demeanor is a sharp contrast to not even four hours ago when he was all quips and smirks.
You turn toward him fully, crossing your arms over your chest to put some space between the two of you. He’s a little more drunk than the last time you saw him, you can tell by the slight droop in his eyes and the way he loses a bit of balance standing perfectly still. You would find it funny, but he’s positively pouting at you.
“What’s that?” You ask, voice light.
“Why don’t you like me?”
You sigh sharply through your nose in disbelief, rocking back on your heels.
“I like you fine, Harry,” you say flatly, “don’t be ridiculous.” Harry’s scowl deepens and he mirrors your posture, arms crossing tightly over his broad chest.
“M’not bein’ ridiculous,” he says sharply, voice tight. You blink in surprise at the frustration in his voice. “I wanna know why you have a problem with me.” You’re a little stunned at the turn around in his behavior and annoyance pricks at your skin.
“I don’t!” You exclaim, heart jackhammering your chest. You throw up your hands in exasperation before they fall limply at your sides. “Where is that even coming from? I don’t have a problem with you.” You say, calmly this time. His eyes are sharp and focused intently on you. “I just..” you trail off and Harry’s jaw clenches.
“What?” He demands. “You just what?”
“I think you’re an annoying flirt,” you snap, his tone making you suddenly unreasonably angry. His eyes narrow at you and annoyance flares hot in your chest. “You flirt with anyone with a pulse and I think it’s bloody annoying. I think it’s annoying that you never stay past ten whenever we go out with friends because you’re too busy taking someone home.”
The words are falling out of your mouth before you can stop them. You stare at each other in disbelief for a few seconds. It appears you’ve struck a nerve from the way his jaw clenches and stays clenched. You swallow, suddenly feeling sick. His eyes scan yours before he releases a harsh breath through his nose.
“Alright,” he says shortly, but the way he says it makes it clear he’s anything but, “s’all I wanted to know.”
“Harry–” you try weakly but he shakes his head, straightening up, “I’m sorry.” You feel lightheaded and a bit like you’re going to cry. Sometimes you’ve snapped at each other over the course of your friendship but now it looks like you’ve struck him across the face with your words.
“S’fine,” he says quietly, shaking his head, “thanks for telling me.” You heave a panicked breath and before you know it he’s out of the kitchen. Regret nearly knocks you sidewise. Sure, you’ve always been a little jealous of the seemingly endless stream of people fawning over him, but it’s never bothered you to the point of actual dislike or anger. The hurt etched into his features before he exited your kitchen is haunting you and you finish tidying up with shaky hands before you trail out into the living room.
It’s only your closer group of friends now, scattered along your sofa and mix and matched chairs. Whinnie is sitting in Mika’s lap, arms around his neck as he laughs loudly at something Jack is rambling about. A few other friends are in their own conversations, and your eyes land on Harry almost unwillingly. He’s squished into the side of the sofa, listening to a story being told by another friend and his eyebrows are furrowed deeply, fingers folded together and resting on his knee.
You take a deep breath, making your way to sit on the floor at Mika’s feet, leaning against his legs. Whinnie’s hand lands on top of your head in greeting and you focus your eyes on Jack.
“I tried to tell him to piss off, but he wouldn’t leave us alone!” Jack exclaims, throwing his hands up. He turns his focus to you. “I’m telling Mika about that crazy guy at The Dragon’s Tail who kept hitting on you and Whinnie.” You snort a laugh and Jack resumes his animated tale. You glance at the couch and your heart flies to your throat. Green eyes are focused on you, Harry’s lips pressed in a thin line. You inhale sharply, holding his gaze before his jaw clenches and he looks away and back to his conversation.
The next hour flies by. People trail out of the house until it’s just Whinnie, Jack, Mika, Harry and yourself. Whinnie slides off Mika’s lap, they bid their goodnights and trail into her bedroom. Whin squeezes your shoulder gently on her way to bed and you smile softly in farewell.
“Well,” Jack huffs, groaning as he stands up, and stretches, “I’m knackered. I’ll see you later, H.” He chucks you under the chin as he walks by and claps Harry on the shoulder. Harry mumbles a goodbye and then you’re alone.
Once Jack disappears into his room, the silence is nearly crushing. Harry shifts minutely on the couch and you stare pointedly at the coffee table until he clears his throat and stands abruptly from the couch.
“Guess I’ll head out then,” he mutters, barely audible. You keep your stare focused on the table and Harry skirts around you, making for the front hall. You hear the clunk of his shoes and the jangle of keys and your throat feels tight.
You never want Harry to think you don’t like him. You’re a little terrified because frankly, it’s the opposite. Petty jealousy has somehow poisoned your relationship with him and he has no idea – he’s simply convinced you think he’s a womanizer and that’s that. You blink rapidly and suddenly you’re shooting up from the table.
The door shuts firmly behind him as you stumble into the hall. You moan quietly under your breath, yanking on running shoes and heading out after him. He’s on the landing already, turning the corner with his shoulders hunched against the cool evening breeze.
“Harry!” Your voice is a little croaky and you stumble down the steps as he freezes momentarily and turns to look at you. The hardness in his expression that makes you wither and you cross your arms over your stomach as you come to stand in front of him.
“S’chilly,” he says simply, eyes bright and analyzing, “should put on a jumper.”
“I’m sorry,” you blurt, shaking your head, voice wobbling. Harry’s expression softens and the hunch of his shoulders relax slightly, “I’m so sorry for what I said. It wasn’t fair.” Harry’s silent for a few moments and you shudder as another breeze brushes by you.
“I sleep with a lot of people,” his voice is even, calm, but you wince internally, “I know that. I don’t care about it. I don’t think anyone should. But you seem to think you have me completely figured out when really you barely know me.”
“I know and I–”
“You refuse to get to know me.” Harry continues, undeterred. “I try and talk to you and you tell me to fuck off. I give you a ride home, I think you’re getting to something resembling tolerating me, and then we’re right back to square one before I even blink.” You pull your bottom lip into your mouth. Harry’s expression is unreadable. “So are you gonna tell me the real reason you almost bit my head off back there, now?”
You chew anxiously on your bottom lip.
“Why were you so upset?” You ask weakly. “When you came into the kitchen, it seemed like something set you off. I thought things were going well and then...” you trail off, shrugging.
“Whin brought up me giving you a ride,” he says flatly, “said it was a bit weird considering she thought you couldn’t stand me.” You twist your rings around your fingers, anxiety bubbling in your stomach. “She was makin’ a joke, but also she wasn’t.”
“I’m sorry.” You say, voice meek and with a shrug of your shoulders. “I don’t hate you. I don’t want you to think I have a problem with you or the fact that you…” you swallow. He’s peering at you carefully and he lets out a long breath from his nose before licking his lips.
“Gonna give me a reason?” He asks, voice a little softer. “Feel like I deserve to know why you’re trashin’ me to your best friend when you don’t mean it.”
Your cheeks feel hot and you press your hands to them in an attempt to cool off. There’s no point lying to him now, you think to yourself. Admitting you have a tiny crush on him won’t ruin anything, and if it does he’s not as nice as you think he is. It’s definitely a better alternative to lying to his face. You’re not sure what yu would even say.
“I was a little..” you meet his unwavering gaze shyly, heart leaping and jumping in your chest, “jealous.” Harry blinks in surprise, eyes widening a fraction. “I’m sorry if that’s weird for you to hear but… yeah.” You finish lamely and with a shrug of your shoulders.
“Jealous?” Harry parrots, lips parted in shock. “Of…” he snorts, eyes not leaving yours, “of who? The people I–” You cut him off with a sharp nod, looking down at your feet and shifting nervously.
“It’s stupid,” you mutter weakly, neck and cheeks feeling like they’re engulfed in flames, “really, really stupid and taking it out on you was even worse.” Harry stares at you, eyes big. “I’m really sorry.” You finish meekly.
The silence is a heavy and weighs on your shoulders. Your eyes fall to the floor, staring at your feet and swallowing back more apologies at the risk of sounding even more idiotic. Just as you’re about to give up and bid him goodnight, Harry takes a step toward you, closing a good amount of the distance between you.
You look up him, heart shooting to your throat.
“What are you doing?” You croak, nerves buzzing in your fingertips. Harry’s eyes are still wide, lips parted and he clears his throat. You tip your chin up to look at him squarely despite your heart hammering against your ribs.
“Dunno,” he mutters, throat bobbing, “I just–” he laughs but it sounds tight and anxious, “I really thought you fuckin’ hated me.” You shake your head and he takes another half of a step. Wind blows between the two of you and you shudder despite the heat still blooming in your cheeks.
“Sorry.” You whisper again. He shakes his head almost frantically and before you can blink both of his large hands are cupping your face and tipping you up to him even more. Green eyes peer at you closely and you can make out the different flecks of color as they bounce between your own. You choke out a breath, wrapping your hands around his wrists as his the cool tip of his nose bumps yours.
“Can I–” his voice is hushed and tight and you bob your head eagerly before he can finish the request, ears ringing as he sighs in apparent thanks, capturing your bottom lip between his own.
You’ve always figured he’s a good kisser. No one with bad technique would be able to woo people like he does but fuck he really is good. You whimper as he tilts your head gently, a soft sound ringing in your ears as he locks and unlocks his lips to yours repeatedly. Your hands pulse on his wrists before falling and gripping his shirt.
“Wasn’t taking the piss,” he manages between eager kisses, “really was flirting with you, promise.” You laugh but it dissolves into a moan when his tongue slides shyly against your bottom lip. You open up almost immediately and swallow the groan that erupts from him instantly.
It could be only seconds but it feels like ages before you have to pull away with a gasp. Harry moans his discontent against your jaw before ducking and sucking gently along your neck. Your eyes roll back and your head falls back on your shoulders with a breathless sound.
“Need to–” you pull your tender bottom lip between your teeth before releasing it, “need to breathe.” His laugh rumbles against your skin. His teeth graze your skin and you moan, hands sliding up his waist, shoulders and neck before carding through the curls at the nape of his neck.
“Do you want to come in?”
Your voice is high and pitchy, eyes closed in bliss. Harry’s mouth freezes on your neck and he rears back, pupils blown and lips swollen. You tip your head to look at him, frowning.
“What?” You ask, suddenly shy. Harry just blinks, cheeks flushed. “You don’t have to, it’s alright, I just–” his mouth collides with yours again, a shocked moan bubbling out of you.
“Sorry,” he pants, grinning against your mouth, “was rude of me.” His lips brush yours in a softer kiss and you fight a smile and fail.
“A bit.”
Harry laughs quietly and you tug at his hair.
“Do you want to come inside?” You ask against his lips. He kisses you again, just quickly.
“You have roommates,” he croaks, “and you’ll wake them if I come in, can promise you that.” You swallow, cheeks flushing and lower stomach flipping eagerly. “Can go back to mine, only if you want.” You hesitate only a moment before bobbing your head. Harry grins, grabbing your hand before stepping back from you.
“Sure?” Dimples are digging into his cheeks but his eyes are sincere.
“Yes.”
The wind blows past you again and Harry gives a gentle tug of your hand.
“S’go then.”
