July
I was unpacking everything from the boot of Zayn’s car as he lingered by the side with his phone pressed against his ear, trying to ring Harry, who had text him a while earlier saying he and Mike had arrived and already set up camp.
The evening before the festival had gone as expected. It mainly involved the women in my life going light headed and swooning over Zayn, which he completely lapped up and also, provoked. Zayn was an absolute pro when it came to flirting, I just didn’t get to see it very much because he didn’t often set his sights on girls. He just took things as they came. But seeing him flirt with both my mother and Katie proved he was an expert. Katie got so drunk just trying to deal with him, she ended the night with sick in her hair. “Bro, where are you?” Zayn asked as soon as Harry had answered. “Under the flag with the marijuana leaf on? For me? Flattered, man. See you there.” We were both laughing when he put the phone down, spotting the exact flag in the distance. My belly flipped. I had been constantly in touch with Harry in the two months we had spent apart. Not a day had gone by without at least a text, yet the thought of seeing him in person again was sending my stomach into an absolute frenzy. I stared at the flag he had described, put there so separate camp areas could be differentiated, and I could picture him clearly underneath it, all green eyes and curls and dimples and low voice and fuck. Every day I was becoming more and more aware just how attracted I was to him. Zayn nudged me, since I hadn’t helped unpack the car for a good few minutes whilst I was lost in thought, so I quickly got involved again before he questioned my lack of presence. I slung my giant backpack over my shoulder and tried not to fall face first into his boot thanks to the weight of the thing, then grabbed my tent and my camp chair, Zayn grabbing all his things at my side. When our arms were full, we stared with dismay at the five crates we had purchased, knowing there was absolutely no way in hell that we were going to be able to carry those too. “Fuck that.” Zayn tutted. “We’ll come back for them.” “But I’m really gunna wanna crack open a beer as soon as my tent is up.” I sighed. “That is true... We’ll just nick some from Harry.” “Good idea.” With that, Zayn slammed his boot shut and we began making our way onto the site, surrounded by people, all around our age or slightly older, going into the festival site too, their arms full and their wristbands on. At the entrance, our bags were checked by security, and then they wished us well. Zayn had told me the night before that security didn’t play much more of a part than that throughout the weekend, since it was such a small thing. It was an arts festival, really. Local bands, art stalls and vintage clothes stalls too. I wouldn’t be seeing a single band I knew, that was for sure, but it didn’t matter. As soon as we were in there, the vibe was noticeable. Everyone was happy, chilled, completely at ease in that field. There were people drinking and dancing around their tents already, and it was barely 10am. The distant sound of music coming from the actual festival grounds played sweetly through the campsite, and even though I was in the middle of some random field, it had the feeling of home. I loved it already. I people watched and looked around at all the anarchy as we wandered over to the flag, and I was glad I was too preoccupied with my surroundings, because I didn’t have time to over-think how things were going to be when I finally saw Harry again. We heard them before we saw them. “LIKE A RHINESTONE COWBOY!” The two of them sang together. “RIDING OUT ON A HORSE IN A STAR-SPANGLED RODEO, duh duh duh, LIKE A RHINESTONE COWBOY, dah dum dum, GETTING CARDS AND LETTERS FROM PEOPLE I DON’T EVEN KNOW!” We followed the sound of the two idiots singing their terrible acapella version of the Glenn Campbell classic, and soon we saw them, two tents set up in our camp space, beers in hand as they side stepped and clicked along to their efforts, before they spotted us, and thankfully, the singing stopped. Mike dropped his beer and bolted to me, as Harry went to Zayn. I dropped everything I had been carrying on the floor, because I knew Mike never half arsed a hug. His hugs were always intense, and I had never gone that long without seeing him. I knew I was in for something special. I squealed as soon as he reached me and lifted me off my feet, and that took me so bloody high off the ground I felt unsafe. I wrapped my legs around his stomach and continued to squeal with my arms around his neck as he span us round on the spot, stumbling a little but managing to keep us both upright, thankfully. “Mike! You’ll be the bloody death of me!” I cried when he wouldn’t give up. “Alright, alright I’ll put you down.” As soon as my feet met the floor, he bent down to hug me, kissing my cheek first. “How’ve you been? How’s your summer going?” “Yeah, really good.” I sighed, pulling from the hug. “Better than I thought it would be.” “So things are all good with your mum and stuff?” He asked, concerned. “Yeah, really good.” “And your dad?” “Uh, not so much. Not worth mentioning.” “LETS DRINK!” Mike turned around and ran over to the crate of beers he and Harry had already attacked, grabbing one for me as my eyes darted to Harry and Zayn. Harry had his giant bear paw slapped across Zayn’s cheek as he asked about his wellbeing and all the rest, and as Mike came back to me with a can of Fosters, my eyes were still glued on the two boys. Well, one of them in particular. Harry’s eyes then moved to me. I smiled to him. There was no point me trying to look the other way so he didn’t know I was staring. It would have only made it more obvious. He gripped Zayn’s face a little harder before he walked over to me, and my stomach was on the damn floor, my voice-box nowhere to be found as he came and wrapped his arms around me, hugging me tightly. “O’reyt, Pip-Squeak.” He greeted. “You good?” “I’m fine.” I gulped. “Are you?” “I’m sick, thanks.” With that, he pulled out of the hug, and took a swig from his can. For some fucking reason, it felt like a punch in the fucking gut. What the hell was I expecting? Did I really think he would run over, cry about how much he had missed me, declare his love for me, sweep me off my feet and we would gallop off into the sunset together? He gave me a nice hug and asked how I was, like any friend would. Why the fuck did that have to feel like such a kick in the teeth? I was truly sick to death of my feelings. “Oh my god.” Mike whelped, a hand on his heart. “The crew is back together, and I for one, am thrilled.” “Who else is coming?” Harry asked Zayn. “Louis.” “What about Tally?” I cried. “Shit, yeah. She copped out.” He tutted. “What do you mean she copped out?” I continued to wail. “She text me last week saying she couldn’t make it.” “Why?” “Dunno.” He shrugged. “I didn’t ask.” “Tally doesn’t just drop out of things like that. There has to be a reason. Oh my god, is she okay? Did she sound okay?” “I dunno! I didn’t study the text that much.” With that, all the lads took a swig of their beers and began catching up, and all I could think about was Tally, hoping she was okay but knowing if I text her from the festival, she would only feel guiltier than I knew she already did. Not that we had any damn signal, anyway. I would have to spend the weekend wondering. I then realised, it would just be me and a bunch of boys. One of them I used to sleep with, and one of them I really wanted to. Brilliant. In a way, it was rather brilliant. I loved all of them dearly, but female company was something I basked in. My life did feel like a bit of a joke, quite often. By the time I came back round from my thoughts and joined in the conversation again, Mike was beginning a story. “I slept with a girl who looked like Grace.” He said miserably. “Shit.” Harry gawped. “How did that treat you?” “Not so good.” He replied after another swig. “She was like, a shit version of Grace. And literally, the only reason I slept with her is because she looked like her.” “That’s heavy shit, man.” Zayn nodded. “Is that something boys do?” I quizzed. “I’ve done it.” Zayn admitted. “Me too.” Harry nodded. “Only when I’ve been drunk, like. But sometimes when you see someone who looks like someone you’re infatuated with, even if it’s just a small similarity, it just triggers something.” “Exactly!” Mike clicked his fingers. “I was like, drawn to this girl. It was bullshit.” “Do you speak with Grace?” Zayn asked him. “Sometimes. Always feels… pretty horrible though. Like we’re… missing out on something. So I struggle.” Sometimes, I blended in with the boys I had lived with so much, I think they often forgot that I was actually a girl. They would talk openly about these things and not worry about their masculinity at all, which was something Zayn never did, but I knew for a fact both Harry and Mike did, no matter how hopeless Mike was. Sometimes they just spoke about things like I wasn’t there. But it was nice, it answered questions about men I didn’t even realise I was asking, and I knew they felt just as grateful when they asked me questions about girls and I could answer them. “I don’t get why you aren’t just together.” I breathed. “Life is in the way.” He shrugged. We all drank again, thinking about Mike’s statement, and I wondered how long life was going to get in the way of people who clearly should be together, and make it so they just weren’t. Mike and Grace were the perfect match, and it was something they both wanted, but the big bad wolf that was life was holding them back, and life wasn’t something you could ever put on hold. I just thought maybe they should combine their lives, so that it wasn’t something that could get in the way, it was just the norm. Sometimes, normal was the most appealing thing imaginable to me. “ANYWAY!” Harry yelled. “I’m sure at some point this weekend, we’ll all be so off our tits that we’ll love talking about depressing shit like that, but Zayn and Pip haven’t even put their tents up yet, so let’s cheer the fuck up. Look what I brought.” He fished into his back pocket and pulled out the largest bag of white powder I had ever seen in his possession, flipping it between his fingers smugly. Within seconds, Zayn slapped the bag straight out of his hands. “No!” He pointed a finger harshly at Harry. “WHAT?” He yowled. “I got this for you, bro! This is your birthday present!” “Not this weekend, man.” “We’re at a fucking festival.” He groaned. “This is literally, the ideal time to take a shit load of drugs. I bought coke and MD for this.” “Well save it, man. I don’t wanna do it. Their off limits to us this weekend.” That was obviously fine with me and Mike, since we weren’t really as into that whole scene as Harry and Zayn were, but it was a little surprising to hear Zayn turning it down and saying it wasn’t something he wanted to do whilst at the festival. “Why?” Harry complained. “Because it’s so chill here, man. I wanna be, y’know, actually here. I wanna be present and enjoying it for what it is. Please don’t do it.” Harry exhaled his dismay, and rolled his eyes once, maybe he tutted too and I didn’t hear it, but then he shrugged. “Course.” He spoke again. “I’m only here for you, and because of you. I can go without. But I swear, we’re taking all this shit on our first night in the new house.” “Deal.” Zayn grinned. The two of them shook hands and that delved into a hug, whacking each other’s backs and smiling. It didn’t take Harry long to get over the fact he would only be on alcohol all weekend. I would definitely prefer it that way. I put my can of beer on the floor, balanced against my backpack and grabbed at my tent, because the sooner that thing was up, the better. I was terrible at constructing them anyway, never mind if I was half wrecked whilst doing it. “Don’t tell me you’ve got a pink tent.” Harry gawped. “Of course I have a pink tent!” I smiled, unzipping the bag and dropping all my needed equipment onto the grass. “That’s the most hideous thing I’ve ever seen in my life.” He laughed. “You’re just jealous.” Zayn began working on his tent, across from me in the small circle we were beginning to create, Harry’s tent next to Zayn’s, then Mikes, which was next to mine, and Louis’ would nestle between mine and Zayn’s. “You want some help, man?” Mike asked Zayn. Before he even got an answer, Mike was helping out, because one thing worse than putting a tent up, was doing it alone. I smiled cheekily to Harry. “I will take no part in putting a pink tent up.” He said with his arms folded. “Your masculinity is so fragile.” I tutted. I expected a laugh from him, but I didn’t get one. What I got instead, was Harry literally, visibly, biting his tongue. Out of nowhere, I had hit a nerve. He huffed, but came to help me. As we worked, rather unsuccessfully on my tent, all I could concentrate on was Mike and Zayn chirpily chatting and laughing together, and the bitter silence that swilled in the small distance between me and Harry. It had been literal months, since me and Harry had nothing to say to each other. It wasn’t like us. It was unnatural and uncomfortable. I thought I had made a joke but for some reason, he just wasn’t having it. I wondered if it was something else, if something else was bothering him and I had just said one little thing that made him flip. He wasn’t yelling or anything, but he clearly wasn’t impressed. It was only when we were on the final stages of the tent that I plucked up the courage to speak. “Have I pissed you off?” I quizzed. “No.” He replied bluntly. “Well you could have fooled me.” I tried. “That’s because you’re easy to fool.” I didn’t know what to say to that snotty comment, so I decided to take the high ground, and not say anything. It wasn’t really something I was used to, especially when it came to Harry, but with the drastic change my feelings had gone through since we became friends in February, I could barely think of anything worse than arguing with Harry. Finally, the tent was up, and I decided to move all my crap in there ASAP, because there were already clouds blooming overhead. I was just praying it wouldn’t rain. I shuffled into my new home and crossed my legs as I organized my things on the free side of the two person tent, kind of wishing Tally would soon be climbing in with me, but also, glad I wouldn’t be sleeping with my bag on my feet. I’d say it was only a few minutes into my efficient unpacking, that Harry appeared in the entryway to my tent, crouched down to my level. I turned my head to him, gulping loudly. I expected an apology thanks to the sombre look on his face. “I’m sorry.” He sighed. “I dunno what happened. I was just being a dick. Sorry.” “S’okay.” I whispered, still trying to figure him out. “Stop being boring. Come and drink with us.” They had gathered in Mike’s tent, wary of rain, and the fact that Mike had brought a four-person tent all to himself made it the ideal spot. “I’m unpacking.” I choked. “Yeah, and that’s boring. C’mon.” He offered his hand out to me, a small, unreadable smile on his face. And all I could do was take it. + + + Louis had arrived late, with a fag in his mouth, three crates of cider balanced between his hands and his chin, and not much else. It seemed he would be sharing Mikes tent for the weekend, which Mike seemed utterly distraught by, until he realised that Louis was quite small and wouldn’t take up that much room. Besides, they had cuddled once before, which had gone relatively well before Ed threw up on them. So in the end, he had welcomed him with opens arms. We were waiting for the festival gates to open, so we could finally get into the arena, our tents up and at least five beers down. But we’d moved steadily throughout the day, and the alcohol hadn’t hit any of us quite yet. I stood in the centre of the four boys as we slowly shuffled forwards in the oversized queue, and I couldn’t help but overhear the girls behind us, giggling and pointing and talking about which one they thought was my boyfriend. Mike put his arm around me at one point, and they made their decision it was him. Leaving them to pick which one of them would go for Harry, Louis, and Zayn. The bloody lads were too busy talking to listen to the fact they were literally being picked out by the wolves behind them. I really wanted to turn around and give the girls daggers, and see if the one who had chosen Harry was as drop dead gorgeous as I was imagining she was. But I didn’t. I mean, I really wanted to, but I didn’t. As always, by the time I actually began to ignore them, and join the conversation with the people I was actually there with, Mike was half way through a story. “So then I was like, mate, if you want to buy a puppy, go ahead, but I will never, ever, eat spinach with you.” I bolted my head up to him with a very confused look on my face, wondering if I should even bother asking what the hell he was talking about. I figured he would just start from the beginning, and I loved Mike, but he didn’t often tell the most entertaining or informative stories. So I just kept quiet, still trying to figure out what the hell that story could have been about. That was when the girls decided to pounce. “Hey!” One of them jumped in between us. “Would you guys mind if we joined you? Even up the numbers of boys and girls?” Before we could even answer, Zayn answered on behalf of all of us, an answer I was grateful to hear. “Uh, m’sorry, but it’s kind of a personal thing. Just wanna keep it mates.” I literally wanted to leap to him and hug him, but he and the other lads would have no idea why, and I would basically start digging myself a more obvious hole, so I just smiled down to the floor instead. The girls caved back to their spot behind us, and their whispering became more intense. I was beyond grateful by the time we were finally through the entrance after they checked our wristbands and bags, and we began our journey. Zayn had told me the night before, that the first time he came to this festival, he was 2 years old, his mother young, free and happy, carrying him around in a pouch all weekend. You could tell, straight away, because Zayn opened his arms and breathed in the atmosphere like it was his home, eyes closed, head towards the sky, and his lips curving to the sun. Out of nowhere, Louis went and jumped on his back, to which Zayn reacted quickly and linked his arms round his legs, laughing and grinning. I fucking loved seeing him like that. Zayn was always happy, but this was something else. Zayn fucking belonged there. “So where we going, lad?” Louis asked, kissing his cheek. “To the Working Men’s Club!” Zayn chuckled. “It’s the best place to start.” Mike grabbed the festival pamphlet out of his pocked and began talking about the band that were opening the Working Men’s Club in ten minutes time, and Harry came and snaked himself next to me, glancing over his shoulder just once before he spoke. “I reckon that girl fancied me.” He marvelled. “Hm.” I shook my head. “Is there a girl in the UK who you think doesn’t?” “Only the insane ones.” He shrugged. “You’re so conceited.” I laughed. “And gorgeous, no?” “No.” I scoffed. “I can’t believe you’ve kissed someone who you don’t think is gorgeous.” He shook his head. “Shh!” I hit his arm. “I did it out of sympathy anyway.” “You’re such a liar.” Then he jumped so he was in front of me, facing me, bringing us both to a stop. I looked up to him, my eyes fixed on the dimples that pricked at his cheeks, drawn to him in the most predictable sense imaginable. “What?” I breathed. “I just, I need to say something. To lay some ground rules, if you will.” “Okay...” The dimples disappeared and he stepped a little closer to me, checking over his shoulder yet again to see that Mike, Louis and Zayn were still on their way towards the desired area, before he looked back at me. “The flirting is fine and everything, but I think this weekend we need to... y’know... not... do what we do... sometimes.” I knew exactly what he was referencing. It seemed mine and Harry’s sexual encounters were suddenly something he struggled talking about openly. “Okay...” I trailed again. “I think Louis still likes you, to be honest. And I was hoping by the time we move in together in September, things won’t be this complicated. We could start that now.” It was what I had been hoping for, really. Keeping my distance from Harry, the two of us not returning to that place, being that way. It was what I wanted, what I needed. But at exactly the same time, it was the complete opposite of what I wanted. “Good idea.” I lied. “Yeah?” “Of course.” I was lying through my teeth. “I was going to say the same thing.” “Good.” He grinned, genuinely happy. “Okay, let’s go.” He placed a hand on my back and then pushed me so I was ahead of him, pinching at my shoulders just once before shoving me forward again, even further from him. It was becoming a more regular occurrence that I would refer back to my lectures about body language, and I cursed myself for it every single time. Because suddenly I was reading into Harry playfully shoving me forward and thinking it was like he wanted to distance from me. But what if he did? He’d basically just said he wanted to keep his distance, but that was a literal distance, and I honestly was not a fan of it. There had been enough distance between us in these few months of being at home. Now he was choosing to create more and I just couldn’t wrap my head around it. Of course I got the logic, but me and Harry had never stuck with our logic. Logic had never been our strong point. I was kind of hoping he would see me after our dry spell, and not be able to take his hands off me, never mind choosing to keep his hands off me, never mind literally pushing me away from him. My head was all over the show. A complete wreck. I sped up in order to distance myself from him even more, to catch up with the other boys, and silently praying that I wasn’t the only one of us who would read into such benign things as distance. I really hoped Harry was questioning why I was running from his grasp. Not that he held much of a grasp on me. I reached the other boys pretty quickly, Louis still shelled on Zayn’s back, and Mike being the affectionate sod he always was as he wrapped his arm around my shoulder, Zayn pointing out the tent we were heading to. “OH MY GOD!” Mike cried from nowhere. “I’M SO EXCITED I MIGHT DIE!” The whole place was colourful. I was almost sure the sky wasn’t actually blue, it was just the way my heart felt being there that made it appear that way to me. There were pinks and oranges scattered everywhere, in the flags and the artwork and graffiti that disordered and completed our surroundings. Then as soon as we walked into the Working Men’s Club, we were back in the real world, a world we were familiar with. It was a funny contrast, really. We went from being in a colourful wonderland, to being in a tent that resembled every single pub in my hometown. There were wooden stools and dull, lifeless greens and reds everywhere, an unenthusiastic woman stood behind a makeshift bar, real ales on tap. “Holy shit. I love it.” I chirped. “Thought you might.” Zayn smirked. Louis jumped off his back and bounded towards the front of the stage, which was at the opposite end to the bar, watching eagerly as the band set up in front of him. Harry skipped to his side as Mike bought us a round of drinks at the bar, asking where which ale had come from, which to be honest, I don’t think he really cared about, he was just enjoying the phlegmatic Yorkshire accent the woman spoke with. “Thanks for this.” I hit Zayn’s arm softly. “Thank my mum.” “Well, I will next time I see her.” I smiled. “You look happy.” “I am happy.” He nodded. “I’ve got my best mates, I’m in the place that I love more than anywhere else in the world. I’m more than happy.” “Good.” The smile on my face was so wide and real, so much so it might have given me a headache. Or maybe that was just the beers. “One two.” The man on stage spoke into the mic. Automatically, Louis started clapping. We were the only people in there at that point, and his mic check obviously wasn’t worth a round of applause, but that was what made it so funny, and that was exactly why he was doing it. The men on stage stared at Louis, a little disorientated as he continued to applaud them. “WOO!” He hollered. “C’MON LADS! WHAT A SHOW. WHAT. A. SHOW.” I knew it wouldn’t be long before Mike joined in, then Harry followed swiftly after, cheering and whooping and crowing to the band, who were finally catching on, and chuckling down to the floor. Soon after that, the tent filled out, and the band began playing, Zayn and Louis bringing out the northern soul dancing yet again, Mike and Harry concentrating more on their beers, and then me, watching them all with heart shaped eyes. + + + There was a thick, heavy, stomach churning bass coming from somewhere, but as I lay on the grass at the back of the main arena, eyes closed, facing the sky, I couldn’t quite figure out exactly where it was coming from. But it didn’t really matter to me. We had been politely asked to leave the Working Men’s Club a few hours earlier, when Mike had decided it was a good idea to unzip his pants, pull out his dangling balls, start swinging them around, and hitting a man’s arm with them. We were escorted out pretty quickly after that. Now, the night was old, and we were watching the final band of the evening. The boys were at the front of the crowd, but I had needed a bit of a breather. The main stage area was actually quite large, compared to everything else there. So the breather I was having felt needed. Also, I was totally fucked. The atmosphere of the festival was so stupidly friendly, there wasn’t a single part of me that was worried about the fact I was laying there on the floor with no one around me, not in the right frame of mind at all. But I wasn’t paranoid at all, and no one was giving me a reason to be. I could see why Zayn loved it there so much. “OI! Are you awake?” I heard above me. When I opened my eyes, Louis was there, floating above me, his smile growing once my eyes had opened and he had confirmation that I wasn’t dead. “Tommo!” I greeted. He sat down next to me, tucking his knees up to his chest and staring out to the rowdy crowd, who were still dancing, despite the fact it was the early hours, and everyone must have been as drunk as I was. With a hiccup, I sat upright next to him. He lit up a cigarette, offering me one, which I rejected, my eyes closing themselves as we watched in admiration. I knew Louis quite well, though I often forgot, and I knew this place was his idea of heaven too. “Do you like it here?” I asked him, though I knew the answer. “It’s sick. I love it.” “Me too.” I sighed drunkenly. I couldn’t help but flop my head onto his shoulder, trying my very best to keep my eyes open, but once again my body was failing me. The warmth of Louis radiated to my skin, and it only made me feel more exhausted. “I need to clear the air.” He mulled from nowhere. “Mm.” Was the only response I could summon. “Harry had words with me earlier.” Suddenly, he had my attention. The mere mention of Harry caused my eyes to shoot open in a way they hadn’t been capable of all evening. I wondered how that was even possible. “About what?” I gulped, moving my head from him. “He seems to think I still have feelings for you. I hope this doesn’t come out the wrong way, but, I don’t. Sorry.” He chuckled. Well, I knew that anyway, but what really had my attention about it was the fact that Harry had mentioned that to him. I needed to know the circumstances. “What? Wh-why did he even mention that? Was he like... I dunno. Was he telling you to go for it?” “No.” Louis shook his head. “He just asked me.” “And what did you say?” “I told him that it just wasn’t like that with us anymore. I also said I would always have a bit of a soft spot for you, but that’s normal.” “Definitely normal.” I agreed. “And I might always have a bit of a soft spot for you, too.” “N’awh, thanks Pip!” He giggled. “But what about you?” “What about me?” “You like anyone?” “Me? No.” I sputtered. “Pip.” He scalded. I knew then, he knew, but if I was lying to myself constantly, then I could definitely lie to Louis, and be convincing. Or at least I thought. “What?” I whelped. “Harry!” He told me. “Harry what?” “C’mon, Pip. Don’t bullshit me. I’ve seen the way your eyes go when you look at him. I know those eyes. They used to do it for me, but just… never that intense!” Louis could tell I needed to talk about it. He just knew it. He could see it eating me alive and he wanted to ease me of some of my pain. I also managed to forget that Louis Tomlinson knew me quite well, too. And out of everyone I knew, all my friends, even my family, it turned out Louis was the only person I felt comfortable talking about Harry with. “I really like him.” I finally admitted out loud. And I had said things similar before. I had spoken with Ronnie, briefly with Ringo, and even that random girl in the toilets of Jax. But never had it come out quite as honestly as that. “Does he know?” He asked me. “Does he fuck.” I snorted. “I can’t tell him.” “Well, why not?” “Because it will ruin everything!” “What if he likes you too?” He tried. “Do you get that impression?” I asked with glistening eyes. “I don’t know him that well.” Louis shrugged. “That means no!” “It does not! It means I don’t bloody know him that well!” I often forgot that boys like Louis weren’t quite as cryptic as girls like me. He genuinely meant what he said. The two of them got on well enough, but Louis genuinely did not know Harry that well at all. “He kisses me sometimes.” I admitted. “Really? Have you slept with him?” “No. But I think he knows that he could if he wanted to. He just obviously... doesn’t want to. I dunno. It’s complicated, I think. I dunno.” The band onstage disappeared briefly, and the crowd began roaring for an encore. I flopped my head back onto his shoulder as we stared out ahead of us. I felt completely deflated. I hated being so pessimistic, but all the answers were there in front of me, and they weren’t the answers I had wanted. “You should just tell him how you feel.” Louis tried again. “No. “Why? What’s the worst that could happen?” “We could move in together and everything could be so awkward that we can’t even be friends anymore, then Zayn will live with Harry in third year and I’ll have to get a house on my own which makes me so depressed that I fail my final year of uni and end up with no friends and no job and dying alone.” Louis slowly turned his head to me, eyes wide and mouth dropped open. A predicted reaction to my manic mind using my mouth as a filter. “That is pretty bad.” He gulped, before heaving out a laugh. “Exactly.” I personally, couldn’t laugh. “Or, he could say he likes you too.” Louis pointed out. Now this, wasn’t something I had ever really considered. I had thought about every possible outcome, but never the one where things worked out. Never the one where he was to say he liked me too. It just seemed so implausible. “He’s just... He’s so confident.” I stated. “I just think if he felt it… he would have said it.” Louis tilted his head so it was gently laying on top of mine, breathing heavily and tutting once as the band came back on stage and the crowd went totally wild. “I guess,” He sighed. “Some things just aren’t that easy to say.” + + + I fell on top of my tent before I fell into it. Though, I fell onto the tent all my own, and Zayn had to help me fall into it. My head crashed onto the blow-up pillow in my tent, and I was aware of Zayn laughing at my state behind me, but too tired and too drunk to care. “G’night, Pip.” He whispered. “NIGHT ZAYN!” “Get in your sleeping-bag.” “Meh.” I ignored his orders, and began drifting off into a peaceful sleep when he zipped up my tent for me, somehow managing to ignore the singing and chattering from other campers, and the lumpy floor beneath my tent, and began falling into the most calm, peaceful sleep imaginable. I was mere seconds away from being dead to the world when the zipper sounded again. I shot one eye open to see Harry crouched down in the entrance, smiling sweetly to me. “Can I come in?” He whispered. “Mhm. But I might fall asleep on you.” He came and lay down in the middle of the tent, since I took up one side and my mountains of crap took up the other. I had my stomach flat on the floor and my face turned his way, trying to keep my eyes open because he was a vision that I never wanted to miss. He stayed quiet for a while, and I think he was trying to prove something to himself. He was trying to prove, that even though I was so tired, and so drunk, even though my eyes were closing and I desperately needed to visit the land of nod, that I would stay awake for him. It pained me, forcing my eyes to stay open and watch him, forcing myself away from slumber, but I did. I stayed awake for him. Like he knew I would. “I saw you talking with Louis earlier.” He finally hushed. “You seemed pretty cosy.” I would have rolled my eyes if my body had the capability to. I turned my body so I was facing him too, and I must have shaken my head a little. “Very cosy.” I smiled. “We were talking about how we don’t like each other.” “Oh. Really?” He quizzed. “Yeah. You were off the mark.” I yawned. “I guess I was.” Things went quiet again. The way he watched me was pretty intense, I noticed, like he was waiting for me to say I was lying, that I had these hidden feelings for Louis that I had never told him about. I had nothing to admit. Well, maybe I did. But it wasn’t that. “I’m falling asleep.” I spoke, painfully quiet. “I’ll leave you to it. But, just so you know… I think Louis is mad, for not liking you.” Without saying anything else, he got out of my tent, zipping it up behind himself and then, I imagine, going across to his own little blue tent and getting a good night’s kip. But after hearing him say that, my mind was in such a whir, it wasn’t possible for me to sleep as comfortably as I was about to before he came into my little pink tent and fucked with my head.
