A/N + Request: harry styles meet cute! this is a really old request and i must have accidentally cleared it out between seeing it and half-drafting this fic. Don’t remember exact words but something about a cute run-in. Idk if this is the definition of cute necessarily but def a run-in and finally finished (:
Word Count: 3.6k
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If life followed cartoon rules, and steam really could hiss out from your ears, Harry suspected he’d out-smoke even his third cigarette.
He’s huddled under the small awning beside the restaurant he worked in. A few feet away sheets of rain come down in a sudden and chaotic curtain and it feels right watching it from there—like everything he was feeling inside breaking loose out there; his inner turmoil hitting the darkened pavement.
“Fuck,” he swears under his breath again. He knew this was one of those things that would stick—like his girlfriend bailing on him for Thailand last year, like his best friend eloping and never telling him until after the honeymoon, like in year 6 when he was always the last sorry fucker for any group activity.
Sometimes it felt like he carried so many moments like these around. Weighed down by all the ways people—and life, have betrayed him.
“Fuck them,” he says on his next exhale. And like a strange manifestation a woman suddenly appears in front of the building a few doors down and screams into the rain:
“Fuck!”
A flicker of a smile ghosts his face. Until she turns and lifts her flimsy jacket, actually stepping out into the downpour.
She’s still swearing as she crosses the next two buildings, and by the time she notices him tucked safely under the small awning she’s already hopping the concrete block beside him, taking shelter without asking.
They eye one another for a moment, it’s like she’s waiting for him to kick her out.
Her hair is plastered to her face, mascara leaving inky streaks down her face and her mouth is an angry pink streak against splotchy skin.
She looks away before he can take in any more
Harry continues smoking. She looks so much like how he was feeling it almost seemed to him the universe was telling him he was right to feel this way—offering up omens reflecting the state of his heart. He would let her stay here as long as she needed. She looked like she needed it.
Upon stubbing out his third cigarette and trying to light a fourth against the blowing wind, she turns sharply and glares at him. Her hair is pulled back now into a clip, face wiped but flecks of mascara still remain and her eyes are still tinged pink. Evidence of whatever happened before the rain.
Harry holds the pack out to her—he should have offered. But she looks offended that he would even do something like that.
He shrugs and puts it away, their eyes lock again and her anger and righteousness bleed out into a tired, haunted look.
Harry puts his cigarette offer down, tucks his 4th back into the box. Three was enough. He’d been trying to quit all month anyway.
“Rough night?” Harry asks, his voice raw from shouting earlier.
Her eyes flicker back to his face and she gives a short nod. Clears her throat. “Best night ever.”
Sarcasm, Harry notes. Of course she used sarcasm as a defence.
“Same here. Rain was just the cherry on top.”
“So that’s a celebratory chain smoke then?” She turns to him now rather than peering over her shoulder. Harry gets a full sense of her—under her green trench coat was a white jumper and animal-print jeans. She has an ipad tucked into the waistband of those jeans. What the hell?
She notices his eyes on it, pulling her coat over it.
“Uh,” Harry scratches his forehead. “Yeah. Yeah.”
She sighs and steps right up beside him, leaning against the remaining bit of wall. Harry shifts closer to the door to give her space.
“Fuckin’ hell.” She sighs. “Sorry.”
“No that’s alright.” Harry can’t help the smile tugging at his lips; he liked her sailor’s mouth.
“No I-I’m genuinely trying to stop swearing so much. My mum says it makes me crass and unladylike.”
“Yeah? I’m trying to quit too.“
“How’s that going?”
“Fucking great.”
She laughs and Harry feels a warmth break through in the centre of his chest. She was one of those people that laughed outwardly—throwing their head back without a care rather than lean inwards. Harry liked her laugh.
“So,” he says when she shakes her head and quiets down, leaning back to the wall. “What’s your story.”
“What’s my-“ she wipes under her eyes.
“Oh,” Harry grabs the apron hanging off his shoulder and offers it to her.
“Really?”
“Yeah, go on.”
She hesitates before patting her face down, her hair, down her neck. Harry looks away.
“Harry?” She says his name.
How did she—
Right, his name embroidered in white on the bottom of his apron. He watches her rubs her thumb across the stitching—his girlfriend used to do that for him on all his aprons. This must be one of his old ones.
His heart twists.
“That’s me.”
“YN.”
“YN,” Harry tests her name in his mouth.
“That’s me.” Her eyes flash as she echoes his words and this time he chuckles, surprised at how easy it comes.
“My ex lives in that building,” she points. “We broke up a few weeks ago. Pretty sure he was banging his coworker, the bitch.”
“Were you…picking your stuff up?” Harry glances down where the ipad is tucked away.
“Not really, that’s all dealt with. He wanted to talk? I feel like an idiot.”
They were strangers but Harry felt like he should offer a comforting hand to her shoulder or something. Maybe words. He doesn’t know what to do, so he waits. She fills the silence eventually.
“He’s been trying to get back with me. I-I don’t know why I came. One foot in that place and I could smell her. He must still be seeing her, her perfume was bloody everywhere. I exploded—confronted him about everything. I was right all along. I, god I feel like a tool.”
“You’re not.” The words come out of him fast, like flipping a burning steak off the heat without thinking. “He is.”
She looks up at him, nods. “He is. Yeah! He is.”
“Exactly.”
“I think…I just wanted to see him one last time. Make sure I made the right decision? We’d been dating for…god like 3 years? I figured out the whole affair thing but it took me a couple months to work up to breaking up with him.”
“It’s hard,” Harry’s hands itch for another cigarette but he shoves them into his armpits, crosses his arms. “They become your life, it’s all like…ingredients in a bowl. Hard to pick them out once they’re in.”
“Yeah,” she whispers.
“I mean I guess even if you manage to pick them out they’re not the same pure ingredients you put in in the first place. You’re changed no matter what…”
He trails off realizing he was getting too into it. She was just a stranger sharing a dry place, he didn’t need to dump his baggage on her.
“That’s very…”
“Stupid?” Harry offers. “Sorry-“
“No!” She stops him. “Not stupid at all. That’s actually a really good metaphor for it. I think I just feel changed, and think that means I need to go back to find the pure version of myself that began the whole relationship but…that’s not possible.”
“And you won’t find her there.” Harry motions with his chin to the building, obscured by the downpour.
“No.” She stands taller. “I won’t. Actually-“
What she was going to say is cut off when the door beside them creaks open and Harry moves out of the way. A head pokes out—one of the line chefs. His eyes widen when he sees Harry out here, they flicker to YN and back to Harry.
“Oh Harry you’re still here?”
“And what?” Harry doesn’t mean to sound so rude to Rick but he doesn’t want Rick going in and talking about seeing him out here.
“A-are you coming back in?”
“I don’t know.” Harry and him hold intense eye contact for a minute before Rick backs down.
“I’ll…okay.”
Rick rushes back inside.
Harry feels YN’s eyes on him.
“What were you celebrating again?”
Harry laughs but it’s not one of humour, he needs it to release some of the tensioned re-coiled after seeing Rick’s face. For a moment hearing YN’s problems he’d forgotten about his own baggage. A brief moment.
YN eyes him wearily.
“I guess I owe you that. Uhm, I’ve been a chef here for like, over 4 years now yeah? That’s, it’s a fucking lifetime.”
“Mhm,” she follows.
“And with the head chef leaving I was so sure—so fucking sure—his position was mine. The head chef and me we…we had a good relationship and he basically promised it to me before he left last week.”
“I get the feeling this story doesn’t end up with you getting head chef.” YN crosses her arms, a protectiveness bristling in her posture.
“Yeah. Bossman comes in today with some fucking prick too posh and skinny to belong in any kitchen. Wouldn’t last a fucking day. All of us are making fun of him right? Then we get told—we’re looking at the new head chef.”
“Well who the fuck’s he?” YN asks. Harry liked the way she seemed wholly invested in his story, her emotions rising to his own.
“His fucking nephew.”
“What the fuck?” Her eyebrows shoot up. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah!” Harry exhales long and slow, imagining it was cigarette smoke. “Yep! The whole kitchen’s fuming right now but I-I couldn’t hold it in. All these guys have shit on the line they can’t afford being fired but me? I didn’t care. Because I’m not sticking around here any longer if I got cheated out by a-by a fucking—“
“Nepo baby.” YN provides.
“Yes!” Harry remembers the word tucked into the back of his mind. “A fucking nepo baby! I have close to a decade’s worth of work on him!”
“I’d be seeing red if that happened to me.”
“Oh why do you think I’m out here.” Harry looks back at her. With the mascara off her cheeks he sees the faint flush either from the rain or from their swapping of stories. “I got sent out here to ‘cool off’.”
“Fuck cooling off, if that nepo baby can’t handle your heat what the fuck is he doing in the bloody kitchen?”
“Right!” Harry exclaims.
She feels so alive, he thinks. He can’t remember the last time he was this open. This unburdened.
For so long it was about keeping your head down and doing the work, be berated by whatever chef you worked under and doing the work. It got him to where he was—sous-chef. But he was tired of keeping it in for the sake of hope, the promise of making head chef. He loved the kitchen—personalities and the quirks of everyone, but he was tired of everything else. Tired of being betrayed and being last and carrying everything around.
“My advice?” YN turns so that she’s leaning on her shoulder. Harry mirrors her without realizing. Behind her the rain starts to let up a little, the clouds deciding they had raged enough and the tantrum could turn into a sulk.
“Would love to hear it stranger,” Harry’s mouth pulls up into a tired smile.
She narrows her eyes for a second like she was searching him for sarcasm but whatever she finds grants him a small crooked smile.
“Do not try to quit swearing now.”
He barks out a laugh, not expecting this piece of advice from her. But the warmth in him spreads, having nothing on the sulking winds.
“That’s solid advice actually.”
“Mhm,” she nods.
A ghost of a smile on both their faces, a second stretches into a few as they lock eyes and really see each other.
Harry felt like this whole time they were just waiting out the weather together. But now it was shifting into something different. After all, the rain’s gone soft enough that a jacket could get either of them back. But neither move.
“So are you deciding whether to go back in or quit?” YN asks him.
“Uhm,” Harry thinks. “I think I’ve made up my mind. But I have to go in either way, collect my stuff.”
“Do chefs not have to give 2 weeks or something?”
“Fuck that.”
“Yeah, fuck that.” YN smiles softly.
Harry’s so warm now he’s pretty sure if he wrapped his arms around this soaking woman in front of him he would dry her up in no time. She had somehow turned his nightmare of a day into a dream.
“Thank you,” Harry says—and he means it. There’s a lot he isn’t saying aloud, but somehow she seems to hear all of it anyway. Harry suspects she was good at that kind of thing, maybe unless it had to do with an ex.
YN nods in understanding. “Yeah. Thank you for sharing your shelter.”
“S’not much,” Harry replies. He reaches up, tall enough to do so, and flicks the centre of the vinyl awning. A little pool of rainwater tips over the side, splashing down. Both of them share a quiet laugh.
“My ex and I used to come here all the time,” YN says, rolling her eyes at herself. “It’s good you’re leaving—means the food will get worse. Then when he brings that bitch here, they can’t have a nice time.”
Harry doesn’t know whether to laugh or to offer comfort. He hesitates a second too long, so when she looks up at him through her lashes, something catches in his throat.
“Too much?” she asks.
“No. No, not too much,” he says quickly. “If you want actually I can stick around long enough to serve them a guaranteed shite meal and then quit.”
This gets another open laugh from her—so much more rewarding than her humoured smiles.
“That is actually…” YN’s cheeks take on some colour , softening her whole face. “Very kind of you, sir. But go on—make the break now.”
Harry huffs out a breath that’s half-laugh, “sort of mad all of this.”
“Yeah?”
“I was just at my boiling point—having the worst day I’ve had in a while. Gray storm clouds and all.”
“Same.” YN agrees. “Our moods combined must have manifested this weather.”
“Maybe.” Harry eyes her, unsure how his next line was going to go. “But you were like sunshine in streaky mascara to my rainclouds.”
Her back straightens and he would have laughed at the dirty side-eye she gives him if she wasn’t actually intimidating.
When she speaks next it’s the most random question: “Harry, what’s the stinkiest cheese you’ve ever worked with?”
“I dunno, uh…Taleggio maybe?” Harry crosses his arms.
“What you just said was cheesy as fuck, like Taleggio.”
And he’s barking out a laugh again, constantly surprised at the quiet and unexpected way YN was funny.
“I’ll take that as a compliment because when you eat it it’s actually quite-“
“No no,” she puts her hand up to shush him. “No chef expertise to twist that into something good.”
“So you’re saying I wasn’t a spot of sunshine to your day today?”
She sighs like it pains her to be this cheesy. “If sunshine had to like, really penetrate through secondhand smoke.”
“Ah right,” he grins catching her meaning. In a moment of giddiness, of feeling light as fuck, he takes his pack of cigarettes and chucks it across the small lot. It hits the brick wall of the building opposite.
“Fuck those.” He turns to her with a grin but she’s looking at the soggy box with a shocked expression.
“W-what-why’d you do that?!” She asks.
Harry shrugs, feeling like the warmth was definitely going to come bursting out of him. Like if somebody opened him like an oven all of his heat would burst out, scalding and warm.
“I’ve been trying to quit anyway.”
“God,” YN pinches her nose. “You’re…you’re crazy.”
“Crazy dedicated,” Harry feels his humoured nature seep back in. “To quitting.”
YN admits defeat with a sigh. She bumps her shoulder into his, “Well here’s to quitting.”
Harry nudges her shoulder back, his eyes on the side of her face. “Here’s to fucking quitting.”
He punctuates his words with the F-word on purpose because he knows YN will get it. She looks at him on cue and they share the smile of an inside joke.
For a second they just stand there, sharing the quiet like they’ve known each other longer than a rainstorm.
A car hisses past on the wet road and the only rain falling now is the leftover drops sloping down roofs and windowsills. The air smells like cold pavement and whatever prep was happening inside. For a moment Harry’s chest squeezes because he was outside of that place not just physically but emotionally now. He knew stepping back inside meant that for the last time, he wasn’t going to be part of this family anymore.
YN glances down while his mind reaches acceptance, lifting something between them.
His apron, bunched in her hands—he’d forgotten he gave it to her, forgotten it wasn’t on him.
“Should return this,” she says, offering it out with a little smile.
“Oh—right.” Harry takes it, fingers brushing hers for a moment that feels like it will last long in his mind. “Didn’t even notice you still had it.”
“I know,” her eyes flick up to his with that same reserved warmth. “But the rain’s finally stopped.”
As if on cue, the silence around them stretches open, no longer filled with the constant drum of water or car tires brushing through the rain.
She steps back a little, creating space like this moment was finally ending but she wasn’t ready to let it go entirely. It was weird because Harry didn’t want to let go either.
“Guess that means I should go,” YN says, tucking a loose still-wet strand of hair behind her ear. “Get on with life.”
But she doesn’t move.
Harry swallows, suddenly aware of how quiet it was without the roar of rain, how he can hear the low murmur of the kitchen coming from an open window somewhere. “Yeah. And I should go uhm, quit.”
Her smile is small but encouraging. “Go on then.”
He didn’t want to go if it meant leaving ber. Harry shifts his apron over his shoulder. “Maybe I’ll…see you around?”
“Yeah sure. If it’s meant to be,” she says, her lips curling into something coy.
“Meant to be?”
“London’s pretty big, is it not?”
“Feels small to me.”
“Then we’ll bump into each other a few times,” she says so smoothly, and there’s something so vulnerable about it he almost forgets to breathe. She covers it up with a joke, “you know. If I catch a whiff of Tagellio I’ll know how to find you.”
“Taleggio,” Harry grins as he corrects her. It was cute.
She wrinkles her nose like she’s smelled it, “Yeah that.”
“Probably shouldn’t though. A smell that bad…”
“In London…”
“Yeah,” both of them say with a crack of a smile. “Best not.”
“Wish me luck then.” Harry says finally.
And then because staying would mean doing something more reckless than quitting his job without another, Harry nods, turns, and heads inside. He hears the faint good luck behind.
The restaurant’s lobby feels colder. Voices echo from the kitchen, familiar voices and easy banter flowing as everyone preps for the opening hours. This was it, this was the end.
Harry walks further in, glimpsing the front window, and out of habit glances sideways.
YN. She walks down the wet pavement, hair still damp, adjusting her jacket around her while holding the iPad. He never did figure out why it was tucked into her jeans.
Then it hits him—he was a complete idiot.
If it’s meant to be.
London’s a big place.
Fuck! He was supposed to get her number!
Harry pivots so fast and rushes out, the hostess startles when he barrels past her. He hears her call his name but he’s already bursting through the front doors, nearly tripping on his way to her.
“YN!”
She pauses before turning with squinted eyes. They widen when they see him, “You already told them!?”
“No!” Harry pants, laughing and breathless as he walks up to her. “I just—I needed your number. Before you…were lost to London’s streets
Her shoulders relax, a grin breaking through; he had put her puzzle pieces in the right places. “Oh! Alright. Sure. You can have my number.”
“Perfect,” he steps closer into the rain-damp air between them and hands his phone over.
He watches her type it in, finding it hard to believe this was something that was going to happen. That this day didn’t end up shitty because of her.
“There’s a saying,” he says without thinking. Maybe because he wasn’t sure he would have the balls to call her later or tell her how much she’s helped him today. She looks up at him waiting for him to continue. “Uh. It goes something like, the same water that hardens the egg softens the pasta.”
She raises a brow.
“I thought today’s boiling water would’ve hardened the egg. But…”
Her eyebrow comes down, eyes softening as she understands what he’s not saying.
“Me too Harry. Now I’ve got a bowl of cooked pasta.” She smiles.
“Good. Pasta’s good.” Harry feels good that she got the same thing out of their conversation as he did.
She huffs a laugh as she hands his phone back.
“Wait actually, are you free right now?” Harry asks as he realizes he could do whatever he wanted. “Because I am quitting right now. And then I’m doing fuck-all. I-I’d like to buy you a drink. Or tea. Or anything—just don’t disappear yet. Please.”
Her cheeks warm, “I won’t. Disappear.”
Harry exhales out everything weighing on his chest, he feels exhilarated and knows it has nothing to do with quitting.
“Good. Grand. Give me a few minutes to throw my career in the bin and get my knives.”
“Everything a modern girl wants.” She says and it’s one of those unexpected jokes Harry pauses at.
He opens his mouth to respond but he doesn’t even know how, too many seconds passing for anything coming out of his mouth to even pass as returned banter.
“Go!!” She pushes him towards the door laughing, like she knows he’s trying to find words for something.
He walks backwards, trying to memorize the way everything looks in the moment. Feels. Right on the cusp: brave and confident, light and unburdened, a big question mark of a future but no fear…only excitement.
And for the first time all day, Harry walks inside the restaurant without the sinking dread. Without the weight that this would be another think that’ll stick forever.
Maybe the storm was a good omen. Maybe his boiling point had rearranged his molecules towards the right direction. Because now that the storm’s broke, he saw clearly that it had made room for a pretty promising fucking rainbow.
A/N: pure angst; egos are still up, feelings are still confused, guards are up and down and even though it seems like I hate them as the writer I do root for them but navigating one-sided vulnerability is a rideee. Mentions of alcohol and drugs—thanks for reading xx
Word Count: 18k+
Part 1 / 2 / 3 / 4
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I made it out alive but I think I lost it.
When Harry approached me after school when I was working on yearbook, I was surprised. He came just as himself and even though he tried to act like a dick, that personality was chucked out as soon as I told him I wasn’t putting up with it.
And he listened. And he looked surprised, but most surprising for me was when he apologized back. It obviously surprised him too because that’s also when his mask came back down; I saw it happening—backtracking so he could put a leash on his vulnerability.
There was no denying though as he was apologizing, the look in his eyes and the way his gaze lingered on my face…I knew he was holding back. That night and our time together left just as much of an imprint on him than it did me.
The thing is I wanted to punish him, make him hurt, because how dare he do that to me. If he wanted to deny what really happened between us and move on, continue being the jock everyone knew him to be, I’d let it sting.
I know he expected me to be upset, maybe even argue. But as soon as I realized what he was doing I put my own mask on; I was good at it these days. And there was a satisfaction with how shocked he looked as he walked out without the upper hand.
That’s his price, I had thought.
But now here I was on the other side of my Harry Experience and my heart still kicked a little extra when I caught sight of him. When I pass him in the halls, in the lunchroom, in the parking lot, and I could feel his eyes on me.
I could just get a boyfriend if it was a physical need. But it wasn’t that simple.
Sometimes before I fall asleep I think of that night, of the pain he felt on my behalf. And it hits deeper.
Past:
Harry had caught up to me as I was leaving the school building today. He had asked if I was busy tonight and my heart had sputtered like a dying car because we had been hooking up for a couple weeks and every time we did I expected it to be the last time yet he always found ways to be at the same place I was or catch me wherever I was.
He had been a distraction for me from everything at home and I never expected us to have longevity.
He told me he would pick me up around 7 for a surprise. I’d gone home in a cloud of rainbows and butterflies but home itself was an antidote to daydreaming.
Mum was home early from work so I head to my bedroom. I didn’t care for forced conversation. All she wanted to talk about these days was my future.
By the time I come down the sun is starting to set and I can hear her on the phone with Nan. She’s telling Nan she doesn’t know if she can help her clean out the house and that my dad didn’t want anything to do with it.
Nan was actually my paternal grandma and her and Grandpa had raised me while my dad lived in a new city every few months for work and mum followed. They’d be sure to be in town for Christmas most years and during off-seasons but when I thought of the people who raised me it wasn’t mum and dad.
Dad always had a complicated relationship with his own father so even though they happily took me in and it looked okay from the outside, every family reunion or dinner was tense and passive.
When grandpa passed a few weeks ago it was Nan and I who held each other up. Mum had tried to be there but she never knew what to say to me. Dad had gotten stony and silent. So now I just walked the few streets over to visit Nan every time I missed him too much.
“What’s going on?” I whisper to mum as she continues on the phone. Were they cleaning grandpa’s stuff out already? It hadn’t been long.
Suddenly I start to worry about all of his valuables, everything he held dear all in the bin. Of Nan trying to sort it all by herself and being overwhelmed—I could help.
Mum waves me off, “Well we’ll see. We can always hire someone. I’m sure Phil will pay for it.”
“I called asking for help with this not to have money I don’t need thrown my way.” Her voice is distant on the receiver but mum’s volume is always so loud I can make it out. Nan only ever took dad’s money if it had to do with me. “I need to do this myself not hire somebody. I-this is making me upset. I’m hanging up now.”
She hangs up without a goodbye and mum rolls her eyes.
“Somehow I’m always between the two of them.”
I watch her move back to her cutting board and stare as she chops. If there was any humour here I would laugh but it always got to me when she’d say things like that. Because it was always me between the two—my actual family and my family that raised me. My loyalty to my grandparents for all the love and time they raised me with and my loyalty to my parents because…well, they were my parents.
“What did she want?” I ask eventually.
“Someone to help her pack up the house. And she’s asking us to hold some of her things as storage I mean-“ she throws her hands up.
“Why?” Nan had plenty of space at home, why did she need ours?
“Well whoever rents that place probably doesn’t want all her rubbish everywhere.”
Rents.
“Who’s renting? What do you mean?”
Mum looks up sharply and sighs when she sees my face. “Oh dear. Did Nan or your dad not tell you yet?”
“Tell me what!?” I demand, my heart racing and my knees feeling like they were made of straw.
“Sit down-“ she points to a stool. I do so grudgingly. “Your Nan…she’s going to be moving-“
“No. She can’t be she would have said-“
“Well she just made the final decision the other day-“
I’m snatching my jacket and racing out the front door, down the street, pumping my arms until I’m in front of the familiar door. The place that my memories went to when I thought of home.
My breath is having a hard time coming out and my hands shake so I knock until Nan opens the door. One look at me and the sadness pools in her eyes.
“Oh my love I’m sorry.”
“No Nan,” I burst into tears. “Tell me it’s not true! Mum’s lying!”
“C’mon,” she mumbles as she urges me into the house. My feet shuffle to the cozy wooden kitchen and I collapse in the closest chair because her non-answer was already an answer. I knew it in my bones.
“Why?” I ask when I see her again.
She sits beside me, her eyes full of tears. “I didn’t want you finding out like this. I-I’m making your favourite, we were going to have dinner and I was going to-“
Her breath catches and suddenly I feel awful for making her feel bad.
“Nan,” I hold her hand and she clasps it with her other.
“I’m sorry my love. It’s…this house is filled with his ghost. I don’t know how to…”
I find I’m crying too. But what about me, I want to ask. But even I know that’s selfish.
“Before he…when he was in hospital he made a plan for me. He talked to my sister—you’ve met her a few times I think. She lives alone, been a widow for…6 years now? He made all these plans so I can live with her. And she’s made it happen. For as long as I need, she tells me.”
“So you’re just-“ I use my other hand to wipe my tears. “So you’re just going to pick up your life and move? So far away? I-“
What about me?
“I can’t live here-“
“Move in with us!” I urge. Why didn’t grandpa make plans for her to move a few streets over. Why did he do this.
“YN, my dear…” she pats my hand. I know she couldn’t. I knew.
“I’ll never see you again?” I cry.
“Don’t be silly,” she stands and tugs me to her. I wrap my arms around her aging torso, my head on her chest, and it’s so overwhelmingly home that I begin to cry. And with the patience she’s had her whole life she rubs my back and soothes me with promises.
“You’re moving for uni this year—everything’s going to be different. And Phil’s already bought tickets for you to come visit me in the summer. We’ll always be in each other’s lives.”
But not physically. And suddenly I’m angry—what was dad’s issue that he couldn’t stand his parents. That his own mother couldn’t move in with us at a time like this. Why would Nan do this to me.
I let go of Nan and stand up.
“Where are you going?” She calls out as I head for the door. “YN where-“
“I have to go.” I sniffle.
“But I’m making dinner-“
“I have plans.” I say and it hurts just to say it and hurts more to see her face fall.
“Oh…well maybe tomorrow. Come by tomorrow and we can talk okay?”
I shrug and this time I don’t look at her face; a coward who couldn’t see what it does to her. “Maybe.”
“I love you,” she says as I near the door. “No matter what.”
I mumble something in response and leave. But I don’t want to go home. Luckily my phone pings then. Harry.
Outside yours, are you ready?
Crap. I’d forgotten.
At my Nan’s few streets away gimme 2 mins
I feel like my feet are made of steel as I walk over. I try to wipe my face and take deep breaths, anything to prevent him from seeing the mess tonight has made me.
“Aren’t you cold?” Is the first thing he asks me when I knock on his passenger door.
I forgot I was only wearing a jumper.
“A bit. M I must have forgotten my coat at Nan’s.” I sit inside where it is considerably warmer.
“You didn’t have to rush,” he watches me tuck myself in. “I texted you that.”
“Oh,” I check my phone. He had said that, I just missed it. “That’s alright. Where to?”
His eyes light up, now distracted from what he was just worried about. “You’ll have to see.”
“Patience is not my virtue,” I warn him and that earns a grin. His whole face was quite animated when he smiled like that and my stomach flips. Tonight still heavy on my mind, could be eclipsed by a smile like that. A smile for me.
He turns off my street and even though I was curious I’m not watching where we’re going. Instead I’m watching him.
I really was surprised he kept turning up. That he hadn’t grown tired of me.
That first night I approached him in desperate need of a distraction—of a boy and some booze, I could tell he was surprised but he’d risen to the occasion and made himself a perfect distraction.
And then a few nights later we’d made out in his car after school in the parking lot. We did that a few times actually. And the weekend after he’d been at a party I was at and we’d found an empty room. He was obviously more experienced and it made it both new and fun.
He catches me watching him and responds by sliding his hand over my thigh. I was wearing tights but the warmth of his delicious hands go straight through the fabric. His thumb strokes absentmindedly as he drives and I feel like more than a hook-up and he feels like more than a distraction but I discard the thoughts from my mind.
I didn’t want to make things messy. Messier than what my life already was.
“So you’re really giving me no clues?” I ask.
“Nope.”
“I’m surprised you’ve actually planned something. I thought you wouldn’t be a planner.”
He squeezes my thigh and laughs. “I like it when people think they figured me out and then they’re surprised.”
“Yeah?” I ask. I wondered if that happened often with him being the stereotype of a player.
“Yeah. It’s fun. Seeing people surprised. Like when our biology teacher last year congratulated me for getting the highest grade in one of the exams—I’d studied for a week straight so I earned that shit, but the looks on everyone’s faces was crazy.”
I laugh. It’s cute hearing him explain this. Ironically it was also surprising.
“Okay look,” he turns into a lot and I suddenly know where we were. But I’m confused.
“A beach?” I ask. “Harry you know it’s still February and it’s cold as bollocks.”
That makes him laugh. “Yeah? But I’ve got blankets and some wine I stole from my parents and we can keep each other warm.”
He brushes my cheek with his thumb as he says so. It’s gentle and inviting—I never thought someone like him would have these sides to him. I assumed wrongfully that players like him just seduce but Harry’s seducing had a finer art.
Suddenly I remember, “I forgot my coat.”
“Yeah you can wear mine!”
“No then you’ll be cold.”
He tried to reassure me it would be fine but in that moment all the feelings that had just been distracted come forth. If I had just gotten my coat I wouldn’t have to borrow his. Now all this Harry planned for us would go to shit.
“Here,” he starts stripping his coat off when I don’t respond and drapes it around me. “I’ve got a hoodie on and a couple blankets back there it can work.”
“I…” the coat is big and warm, trapped with the smell of him and it makes me lose my train of thought for a moment. I want to grow smaller and just live in this coat and forget all my problems like my thoughts.
“Let’s just see how bad it is out there.” He says with his easygoing smile.
“Okay,” I didn’t want to be a spoil sport. “Let’s see if you brought me out here to freeze to death or not.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” he says as we exit the car. “We’re going to keep each other warm.”
“Harry this is quite romantic,” I tease as he walks around to get to me. “Honestly didn’t know you had this side to you.”
He leans me into the car, his cold hands curling around my neck. “Stop underestimating me YN. Plus I could say the same about you.”
Before I can ask what he means he leans down to kiss me with his soft lips and stubbly chin. It tickles and I pull away.
When I rub my hand over it he laughs, a low and dangerous thing that makes my stomach churn like the waves. “Sorry. I didn’t get time…”
“It just tickles.” I smile. Then remember, “What did you mean just now? About me?”
He ignores me again, ducking into the backseat for a literal basket. I wonder how many girls had seen the same basket before, been on this very same date. It wasn’t my right to feel this grip of possessiveness and I try to shake it off.
“C’mon,” he holds his hand out and when I take it he shoves both into the pocket of his hoodie. He was cold.
“Are you sure-“
“When I-“
We both stop, laugh.
“You first,” I say.
“Uh, I was just saying I’ve known you for years and you’re always the smart no-nonsense one. Never thought you’d spare me a second glance unless it was to judge me-“
“Hey I’m not judgy“
“You’ve never judged me?” He raises a brow.
“Well maybe once or twice. Usually because you were being very obnoxious-“
“Exactly,” he laughs. “I didn’t expect you to come up to me and be interested.”
“Well…” I try to come up with something to say but that wave of emotions threatens to overtake me again. Push, push it away.
“Well?”
We pause some feet away from the waves. At this point even I’m starting to feel a chill and I worry Harry’s freezing.
“Well I was intrigued.”
“Intrigued,” he repeats with humour. “Wanted to know what the fuss was about?”
“I wanted to know,” I turn to him and extract my hand from his so I can wrap them behind him. “If the rumours were true. And I can say they made you out to be more of a fuckboy than you are.”
“What?” His body stiffens slightly.
“Yeah you’re kinda sweet.”
He shakes his head, “YN I thought you were smart!”
“What!” I laugh. “I can’t help but point out what I see-“
“Ah but,” he lays a finger on my lips to shush me and they’re frozen. I try to say something about how cold he must be but he stops me. “Ah ah. No. What you observe is an act YN. I thought you would see I’m just trying to get into your-“
“But,” I shush him this time by putting my finger to his lips and an excuse to draw closer to him to lend my warmth.
“No I-“
“Ah ah!” I pinch his lips closed with my hand accidentally giving him duck lips and it takes him by surprise; he jerks back and neatly topples over. Which of course gets me laughing.
“Jesus YN!” He laughs on the floor.
“Why did you fall over!” I try to pull him up but he yanks me down as I expected. “Shit it’s chilly. Aren’t you cold?!”
“Not anymore,” he wraps a hand around my waist and I can’t deny laying on top of him like this makes me forget the cold.
“See,” I tsk. “I see right through you.”
That sobers his smile and mine fades with it. Did I say something wrong.
“It really is chilly though,” I quickly change the subject. It’s not graceful but I manage to stand up on my own and so does Harry, a shiver going through him. “See!”
“No that’s just,” he wraps his arms around himself. “Being around you.”
I groan. “Cheesy. I’m sorry here-“ I try to take the jacket off to hand him but he refuses, picking up the basket that he’d dropped to the ground.
“Keep it on. Let’s have a car picnic.”
“Yes!” The guilt lessens a bit. “Okay! Let’s do that.”
He smiles at me and extends a hand, I grip it and try to heat it up by shoving it up his larger sleeves.
“That works,” he laughs.
He opens the backseat so I slide in without a second thought. When it’s a bit cramped he moves the driver and passenger seats forward and it gives us a comfortable amount of space.
“I’m sorry,” I apologize again. “I wish I brought my jacket this really was all very nice-“
“Stop,” he says. He begins pulling out wine and perfectly wrapped sandwiches. It’s adorable but I say nothing lest it bruise his masculinity again. “It was lame I knew how cold it was.”
“Are we drinking from the bottle?” I point out.
“Ah damn,” he swears. “I forgot glasses.”
“That’s alright!” I take it from his hand and begin opening it. “Free wine I’ll take it! My parents are really anal so I could never steal liquor and have them not notice.”
“So that’s where you get it from,” he teases.
“Get what?!”
“The,” he waves his hand around me. I take a swig now that I’ve gotten it open and raise my brows. “Y’know! You’re very particular. I imagine you’d be like that as a parent.”
My heart does a weird stuttering thing hearing his opinion of me as a parent.
“Nevermind,” he takes my silence as offence and accepts the bottle. He makes a face once he takes a swig. “This is disgusting. I can’t drink this.”
“Not more disgusting than that beer you drank at last weekend’s party.”
“It was the best thing there.”
“It was the only thing,” I say. “But you should be careful since you’re driving. Wine gets you drunk a lot faster.”
“See,” he hands the bottle back to me. “This sort of thing.”
“Being responsible?”
I feel a small leak of self-consciousness drip in. And with it the leak expands with other emotions I’d shoved down tonight. I blink it back with another swig—the plan would be to get drunk and forget the evening happened.
“Kinda. Like just being sharp.”
It soothes a little. Sharp was better than being called responsible at age 17. Jeez.
I take another swig before we split sandwiches and talk about school. We talk music and movies, about graduation. I try not to look surprised at his grad plans while he’a not surprised at all by mine.
But talking about it all plus the wine, it sinks me deeper into my feelings. How the home I would leave would be something I could never come back to. Nan would never be a few streets away ever again.
“Is it just me or is it getting cold in here now too?” He asks. By now I’d given him his jacket back and I was wrapped in a blanket with half a bottle of wine in me. But even that didn’t hold the cold at bay.
“Yeah, I was trying to ignore it.”
“Soo you can stay here with me?”
“I-“ I go to flirt back. But staying here meant I wouldn’t have to go back home and remembering home reminds me of the reality of my life.
“YN?” He asks with a scrunch to his brows.
“Hm?” I don’t look at him. “Sorry. Yeah?”
“Uh I was just saying…” he deposits the half empty bottle that I’d basically drunk alone into the front console. This whole time we’d gotten closer to the other, his hand resting on my thigh as we talked. But now with nothing between us he inches to close the gap. “We could keep each other warm.”
He tucks my hair behind my ear and I smile into his face. It’s an open book telling his desires for tonight. I cup his cheek, he was sweet.
He kisses me and the gnawing feelings in my chest snaps. In seconds I’m climbing over him, straddling his lap as he responds, his fingers dig into my thighs and the sounds coming from his throat only urges me to get closer.
“Woah,” he chuckles when we break for air. And a part of me flushes but I’m too drunk to care.
I lean in again, my lips on his neck. His breath hitches and I smile against his skin.
His hands travel everywhere. My thighs, hips, and stomach. They slide up the front of my shirt and I gasp at the cold.
“We really need to warm those up,” I whisper.
He looks like he wants to make a joke but I press our lips together before he can. His fingers continue inching up, brushing under the band of my bra. I want him to go faster, I want him to lay me bare and make me forget. Get this fucking noise out of my head and these feelings out of my body.
I can tell he’s turned on but he’s not moving fast enough for me. I roll my hips into him and just like I needed him to he reacts, a short gasp and his eyes shut as he swears.
I do it again and he leans forward, pulling the neckline of my sweater over my head. His lips find the crook of my neck and shoulder, doing the thing that always unravels me.
He worships whatever part of me his lips can reach with one hand firmly on my neck keeping me close.
“You’re insane,” he mumbles against me. “Sometimes I-“
He shakes himself out of his monologue because his hands are trying to unbuckle his jeans. And in the split moment we’re apart the chill in the car settles against my bare shoulders and it’s like reality settles with it. Like a blanket I kept trying to shed.
Suddenly I’m overwhelmed. When he pulls me back to him to lay me down I push against his shoulders, dismounting.
“YN?” I don’t look at him but I know he’s got his brows scrunched together in confusion. I myself was confused. Claustrophobic and confused.
The only option is to rush outside trying to escape the feeling. It was fucking crazy—me in a bra and jeans but I have to get away from him before he sees me unravel. Before everything I’ve been pushing down surfaces.
“YN!” He shouts as I leave his car. Then a third time. I can hear the panic creep into his voice.
My head swims, the world spins around me. I want to lay here and let the cold creep in, let the waves lap over me until they’ve drowned me. Or maybe the waves inside of me make me feel like I’m drowning.
The first sob breaks through. Oh god, what was I doing.
I press my hands into my face and cry with a force so strong it feels like my chest has cracked in half. I cry for my Nan leaving, for grandpa and everything he suffered, for those he left behind, for my father and the relationship he’s never kept. I cry for me. I want to give it all to the water but it keeps coming out of me.
“Fucking hell YN!” Harry’s finally caught up to me. “What-what’s going on? Are you-“
As soon as his hand touches my shoulder I crash into his chest, maybe too hard, but he holds me up as he stays upright. And suddenly I’m cold as shit and I can’t stop shivering and crying and I feel fucking ridiculous.
Way to go, couldn’t have had a sexier moment.
He doesn’t say a word but wraps the jacket he brought with him around my shoulders. It’s heavy and smells like him, and surrounded in it again my system seems to slow down.
“I’m sorry,” I say into his chest.
“No I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out-“
“Wasn’t you.” I say but I can’t even look up at him. This was way too embarrassing. I know I looked a mess.
“Let’s just get back into the…”
I follow him. He tucks me back into the backseat and crawls in behind me.
“Talk to me,” he says, scratching the back of his head. “Did I do something?”
“No.” I wipe my face. He somehow finds a kleenex and hands it to me. I wipe myself down before speaking again but he’s patient. “Sorry. I just have a lot going on at home and it all just…”
When I don’t finish he shifts closer. I look up at him and I’m surprised at what I see. His mouth is turned down and there’s a crease between his brows, but his eyes watch me like I was a fragile puzzle he wanted to figure out. I was expecting him to look at me with fear or disgust but there’s none of it.
Oh god, it hits me in the wrong place. I pitch forward and he catches me against his chest as I cry some more. Somehow there were always more tears.
He rubs my back. “Hey talk to me, I know we’re not…you can talk to me.”
I shake my head. “It-it’s too much. I can’t talk about it.”
“Why not?”
I sigh, lean back, try to discreetly wipe my nose but there’s nothing discreet in this intimate space Harry’s created. More intimate than when we were making out. His eyes are burning into me waiting for me to give him the key to help him unlock all of this.
But how do I tell him I didn’t have the key myself. That I was just sad and I didn’t know what to do with all of it.
“My family…there’s just a lot going on. My Nan’s moving away and just…a lot of changes. I can’t talk about it-“
“Then how do I make you feel better?”
I’ve got to stop being so surprised but I genuinely never thought those kinds of words would ever come out of Harry’s mouth. We were hooking up and yet he wanted to help me—he wanted me to talk.
“You can’t.”
“I believe I can,” he insists.
“I’m just…you don’t have to.”
“I know,” he lifts my chin and wipes the tears away. “Just tell me what you need. I’m here.”
“I just need…” I look at him. Study the soft curls sitting atop the angular cheeks and the steady curious eyes. His wonderful face on his intoxicating throat on his beautiful body. “You.”
He blinks. “Really?”
“Please?” I reach for him with tears in my eyes but he’s already there. This time he lays me down gently and even though it’s an awkward fit by the time he’s peeling layer after layer off of us the place doesn’t matter. Just that he’s here, he sees me hurting, and he’s doing whatever this was to help me feel better.
I close my eyes and make myself be present in my body, feel his taut arms and his shoulders, the softness of his lips and how it feels when he moves against me. When he caresses me and holds me like a flame against a draft, careful but cherishing.
And later, we maneuver ourselves so that we lay together. My body is mostly draped over his and the blanket he brought lays over both of us. And normally I would think of how many other girls this blanket has seen but I feel too serene. I feel tucked in and protected in his arms.
“You’re amazing,” he whispers. He kisses the top of my head. “And you never back down from a challenge. I’ve seen you be the smartest at our school, work your arse off every year. You’re gonna have such an amazing life after you head off to uni. You’re hurting right now but life will change for you.”
His words take mine away. I don’t know who this sensitive and sweet boy is who’s holding me together. As a few tears escape my eyes and down my cheeks he kisses them away.
“Salty,” he laughs.
“Probably good for all the sweetness right here,” I tap at his chest. He swallows and the look in his eyes tell me a story that scares me.
“My parents must have done something right—this is just being decent YN.”
“Mmm,” I kiss him. “You tell yourself that.”
“Is that a smile?” He asks. And it is, I’m smiling at him. “It’s a smile! Look at that. My car won’t even need the headlights on the drive home.”
“Stop,” I cover my mouth.
“No you stop,” he tugs my hand away and kisses my smile which ends in a clash of teeth but I don’t care.
And then suddenly I do. Because I feel something. Something endless and scary and exhilarating; the feeling of falling.
Don’t do this, I urge my heart. He’s not the kind of guy you fall for. That was the first rule in hooking up with him. This was just fun.
But I can’t deny this stopped being fun the moment he led me back to the car. The moment he tried to fix me.
“Maybe we should get home,” I say casually. “I sort of left everyone high and dry. I don’t want them to worry where I’m at.”
“Oh yeah I-shit! It’s already 10?”
“What!?” I look at his watch. I was surprised my parents hadn’t called wondering where I was. I’d missed dinner. Both dinners.
“Okay wait here.” He pulls on his clothes and leaves me some privacy as he begins adjusting the seats upfront from outside. The cold air gives me goosebumps but in that moment the only thing that was scaring me was this smile that wouldn’t leave my face and the inevitable heartbreak of falling for Harry.
But it felt so real. He felt so real.
But he’s not. He’s not even your boyfriend. He just felt bad and he was decent enough not to drive you straight home.
Suddenly my heart and my head clash and despite his reassuring hand on my thigh and his lingering kiss goodnight I walk to my door with a whole new problem on my plate. A problem that scares me more than I realized.
Present:
I guess Harry’s capacity for kindness also equalled in his cruelness because he had made sure his actions hurt me in the last few weeks. Until I took it into my own hands.
I can’t help but think though, whether either of us even won?
“Well have you thought how that arrangement’s gonna go?” Rhia asks.
Rhia was my bestest friend and we’d known each other since we were kids. She was there at my highest highs and lowest lows and today we sit at lunch and discuss uni. Now that her acceptance letter’s come in for her dream uni, for the first time in our lives we’d be so far apart it wouldn’t be a bike ride over. It would be a couple trains at least.
“Obviously we see each other during the holidays,” I count off on my hand. “And then we have to make summer plans-“
“Who’s making summer plans.” Our other friend Juni joins us. “I miss summer. I miss spring. I miss the sun.”
“It’s right around the corner.” I reassure her. It had been a particularly gloomy winter—especially for me.
“Well I’m mad about it now. Look, I even dressed in florals to feel something.”
“Florals? For spring?” Rhi and I say in unison. By the time we finish the quote from one of our favourite movies Juni’s joined in.
“Woah,” someone calls from the table beside us. “Are you lot auditioning for something?”
My friends roll their eyes. I look amused but the fact that it’s Harry asking trying to be friendly makes my stomach curdle.
“Jeez babe you’re actually gonna put a curse on him if you keep staring like that.” Juni lays a hand on me. “I thought things were civil.”
“They are,” I huff. “We had a civil talk. Nobody’s mad at each other.”
“Lie,” Juni says and I can feel her make eyes at Rhia.
“Shut up I’m not mad. I’m just…I dunno. Confused. Annoyed at myself?”
“I thought you set him straight. Played the player,” Juni whispers. Rhia kisses her teeth. “Sorry!”
“I did. It felt good. And now it doesn’t.”
“Was he that good…y’know?” Juni eyes Harry at the table beside us.
“Shut up!” I shove Juni. “He was just surprisingly nice. I thought he’d be a fuckboy about everything but aside from his past I didn’t get those vibes at all. And then he kept…” I sigh. I wasn’t going to get caught in this vicious cycle.
“From what I heard,” Rhia whispers. “He usually is like that though. Sleeps with a rotation of girls and never more than twice in a row. And he never hangs out with them inside school and he never makes things official and…”
She trails off as Juni and I stare at her. She flushes.
“Someone’s been keeping an ear for the goss,” Juni teases.
“What!?” She glares. “After YN I just tried to gather intel. To help. He broke his pattern with her. I was surprised myself every time he found her at a party and she ditched us-“
“Hey I thought you were cool with that.” I say.
“I am!” She shakes her head. “I didn’t mean it like that! I’m glad you got your distraction. But now it just feels like he was more than he was worth.
“Like now you need a distraction from your distraction.” Juni nods.
“Tell me about it.” I grumble. I pop another carrot stick in my mouth and as I chew Harry turns his head and we catch eyes. He does a head nod and I flash a quick smile before moving my attention away.
I wonder if his heart races as much as mine. Probably not.
“Guys I think I do need a new distraction.” I announce.
“Ooh,” Rhia and Juni leans in.
“Someone who doesn’t go to this school though. I really want to keep it apart from my day to day life. And it’ll be a one-time thing. Like a cleanse.”
“Like a cleanse.” They echo.
“Well I can check with you-know-who for all the eligible guys at that other stinky school.” Juni says enthusiastically. She had a crush/situationship that went there. We called him YKW because she didn’t want anyone to hear about how often she talked about him despite talking to him 2.5 times.
“More like if he thinks you’re asking for yourself he might get jealous enough to ask you out.” Rhia laughs.
“Ooh.” I join in.
“Shush.” She blushes. “Maybe. It’s all in the tone. Sound innocent but aloof like you don’t know how the question might affect them. And you really are innocent because you’re seriously asking for a friend.”
I laugh loud at Juni. No wonder I managed to pull off my con with Harry in the computer room when I had friends like Juni feeding me these bits of advice.
I feel Harry’s eyes on me, my laughter likely ringing too loud.
“But who wants to be in a relationship at this point?” Rhia asks. “It’s like 3 months to grad and then we get to meet uni folks.”
“Yeah,” I risk a glance toward’s Harry’s table. He’s not looking. “Exactly.”
Harry POV:
Another Saturday night, another house party.
My mum had made a fuss about me never being home weekends so I’d been forced to have dinner with the family and make small talk while my sister smirked knowing I was itching to get out, and my parents barrelled me with question after question about unis and my future.
I feel like my head’s finally above water and I’m taking my first gulp of fresh air when I pull up to the party. I was late of course but that just meant everyone would be a little drunk.
My eyes scan the crowds as I walk through, greeting some friends. The person throwing it was our coach’s nephew who was a year younger than us but somehow cool enough to be in the fold. It also helped that getting along with him gave us more insight on coach during football season.
“You’re late,” Dana who I’ve known since preschool spots me first. “This is a first isn’t it?”
“Yeah yeah my parents were making a big deal about missing dinner.”
“My parents are in Manchester for drugs,” Akil grins. He was coach’s nephew and his parents both worked pharmaceuticals. They were away often enough on work trips so a lot of parties took place here.
“When aren’t they?” Someone asks.
“Surprised you’re not here with a pair of long lashes and boobs,” Dana smarts. Since we’d known each other so long she was just like Gemma always on my case about the way I “used” girls.
“Now c’mon Dana,” I give her my attention. “This shirt didn’t fit the boobs and I was running late for the lashes.”
She rolls her eyes, “Hardy har.”
“What about you?” I ask. “Anyone you’re seeing.”
“I wish,” she crosses her arms. “I feel like half the girls I could be seeing are still closeted.”
“How do you know?”
“I just know!” She says. “Like how do you know when a girl’s straight for you.”
“Touche.” I agree. “And the other half?”
She clears her throat but before she could say something Ray jumps in.
“The other half can’t stand her.”
“Piss off.” She flips him off. The rest of us laugh, used to seeing the two cousins insult each other most of our lives. “More like the other half’s already slept with Harry.”
“I’m getting a drink,” I call out as the accusations go flying.
I leave my friends and sniff out the drinks in its usual spot in the dining room. The house was nice, nicer than most of the homes we had parties at, and yet it wasn’t one of those places that were cold. It was lived-in despite the weird decor along the walls from all of the residents’ travels.
I’m filling up my cup from the keg someone procured when I notice who exactly is in the corner of the room. The seconds stretch as I hone in on her and the friend she’s always with. My blood pumps extra hard just to keep me upright and functioning.
I’d seen her a ton of times since that conversation. We’d even passed a few hellos when forced but I haven’t been the same since.
I had told myself it was one of those things that needed to fully leave my system. Like bad weed or a shitty flu. And I’d waited weeks but everything between, everything I felt, stuck stubbornly.
And now my body betrayed me every time I saw her. I wanted her to look at me and see her expression change. I wanted to ask her how things were, I was fucking curious. Curious. It was awful.
Her friend is using her hands to explain something to YN and I can’t see her face entirely but she looks unconvinced. I nudge a little closer.
“-says so. And! He’s 5’11.”
“So he couldn’t even make it to 6 feet?” YN asks. I hold back a smile.
“YN!” Her friend whines.
“I’m joking!” YN says. “That was a joke jeez I don’t body shame as long as they’re above 5’6.”
Her friend—I think her name was June rolls her eyes. “Ok that was funny but I don’t know why you have cold feet. Just go up to him! You don’t have to date him. Rhi made small talk with him for recon he thought you were cute! And plus…”
I stop listening when the pieces click together. I don’t know why I thought YN and I hooking up would get whatever it was out of her system. Maybe because she never hooked up. Yet here she was being set up with someone else?
YN begins to turn and I move fast, like I was on the field, to get out of there.
“Were you brewing your own beer?” Akil asks.
“Are you timing how long it takes for me to get a drink?” I snap. “Jeez.”
“Easy,” Akil eyes me.
“Someone needs something stronger.”
I ignore them and take a slow breath. That was unwarranted. I don’t know why I was being so irritable with my friends.
In a few seconds my watered down cup is empty and I’m following the crowd to another part of the house.
“Oh Harry!” A pretty voice calls as we settle in. “I didn’t see you tonight—thought you weren’t showing.”
“He was just late don’t worry,” Dana says sweetly as…I think her name was Britney, sashays into the room.
“Yeah I was late,” I glare back at Dana. She didn’t have to talk for me. Then I watch her give Brit the once over and I realize she could be jealous.
“Yeah well we haven’t talked since that night and I just wanted to say,” she stretches up to my ear. “It was really fun. You always know exactly what I need.”
She stands on her toes and sets herself back down, bouncing a few times before cocking her head. Meanwhile I’m trying to place her.
I had kept pretty to myself the last few weeks. I try to remember the last time I had slept with someone and then it comes to me: the night YN and I had that talk after school.
“I had fun myself,” I hold my hand out and she steps inside of it, her arms going around my waist immediately.
“I thought you forgot,” she laughs.
“How could I forget?” I murmur, waiting for that rush of endorphins but my heart’s just not in it. I don’t want to be here chatting her up. I didn’t want to have to listen to her most of the night while my mates hung out. I didn’t want to find a room with her or drop her home. Fuck…I didn’t want to be with her.
That’s never happened before. My body feels foreign, like it’s going into shutdown as the realization slithers through me.
“Have you met Dana before?” I change the subject. I wanted her off of me. Asap. I didn’t care to be around her.
“Dana?” She looks over at Dana, confused. “Uhm no?”
“She’s great.” I say as Dana shoots lasers at me. “I’ve known her since preschool. But she has a bite so be careful what you say around her.”
“Oh,” Britney puts some distance between us as she looks between Dana and I. Good. “Okay? Hi?”
“Hi. Don’t mind him. I think he got drunk off one drink.” Dana glares.
“Unless you’re into biting,” I continue. But I get cut off when Akil calls Brit’s name.
She whips her head at the sound of her name. Akil’s waving. “Does your brother still do those custom decals Brit?”
“Uh yeah?” Poor Brit, she’s confused as shit.
“Yeah? Uh come over here so we can talk. Don’t wanna yell…” Brit abandons us happily and walks over to Akil. I mouth thank you to him and he flashes me a grin that’s up to no good.
“You dick!” Dana swings her hand into my ribs and I fold. “Why would you do that?”
“Ouch! What!?” I rub the sore spot. “Is she not part of half those girls you were talking about?”
“No! Why would you—oh my god.”
I shrug, “I thought she was. I was trying to introduce you two.”
“Do me a favour?” She asks. “Never ever ever play cupid for me. Ever. Don’t pull that shit again.”
I hold my hands up and settle back. Brit was gone at least but the low thrum of anxiety is not. I needed to step away.
“Maybe I need another drink. You want something?” I ask her.
“Really? Didn’t you drive here?” I raise a brow at her. I knew my limits. She shrugs. “Fine I’ll just have whatever you get for yourself.”
I ruffle her hair just to annoy her more as I leave. In all this uncertainty and change at least I still had my friends to banter with. But even then, I was being a dick earlier.
I use the toilet and then grab drinks. On my way out I spot YN and it must be the bloke June was talking about because he looks 5’11 and interested in YN. He looks familiar from the back but before I can focus on who he is I catch her smiling up at him saying something. I feel a twinge in my chest, I made her laugh when we were together. Was it me or did she just laugh at any joke? Maybe what we had wasn’t as unique as I thought.
“Harry.” Someone materializes beside me. It startles me out of my trance and I nearly spill my drinks. “Sorry!”
“You’re light on your feet,” I try to regain composure. And much shorter too. “Hi…June.”
“Eee.”
“Huh?” I stare at YN’s friend. Was she okay?
“You said June.”
“Yeah?”
“My name’s Juni?” She puts her hands on her hips.
“Oh shit sorry. I…sorry.”
“That’s alright,” she shrugs and her cutting look is gone. “Why are you staring at my best friend so hard?”
I stare at her. It made sense suddenly, that this was YN’s best friend. She looks over my shoulder and her face brightens and suddenly somebody else joins our circle.
“Hey what’s going on?” Another one of YN’s friends.
“Just talking to Harry. About why he’s staring lasers at YN behind her back.”
My mouth opens in surprise; I feel cornered.
“Strange from a guy who plays girls like guitar and then moves on like a one-hit-wonder.” Her other friend says.
“Nice one.” Juni nods. “Spot on.”
“I don’t know what you two are on about,” I take a step away from them. It felt like an ambush. “I was just looking in that direction-“
“I’m not an idiot.” Juni rolls her eyes. “I’ve seen the way you watch her in Chem. I sit in front of YN and every time I turn to talk to her i just see you like a freak in the back.”
“Is it a crime to look jeez.”
“Obviously not but listen, we all know you’re a fuckboy. And you…fuck around. We don’t know if it’s cuz you’re not used to rejection or what? But leave her be. She’s going through enough-“
“I know.” My defences rise. I knew now after some digging what she was going through. I haven’t approached her or bothered her as much as I’ve wanted for the last few weeks. I’ve wanted to do more than just look at her like it was a demanding need and I had kept it to myself.
I had been selfish and I know she was going through stuff. Grief and all that. I had no plans to fuck with her.
“Do you?” Her other friend asks.
“Yeah. Her grandpa and stuff. I get it. I’m not trying to…fuck around. You guys are like her bodyguards or something?”
“No just friends,” Juni crosses her arms. “We care about her.”
So do I, I almost say with my defences so triggered. Luckily I have enough sense to keep my mouth shut. Or maybe not. I’ve finally placed the guy she’s talking to and I can’t help but play the upper hand.
“If you cared about her you wouldn’t be hooking her up with a pothead that’s slept with a teacher and been arrested at least once for carrying.
Juni’s mouth drops and her other friend is staring at her.
“You’re lying!” She says.
I turn to look at YN who looks like she’s relaxed and having fun. My stomach turns. “I’m not. But don’t interrupt her now—she looks like she’s having fun.”
“But—how—what!” Juni looks at her friend. “Did you know?”
“Well I know he smokes sometimes but I-“
“Oh my god.” Juni looks mortified.
“I should go.” I should be leaving with satisfaction but all I can think about is YN maybe sleeping with this guy and I just feel sick.
“No you can’t!” Juni says. “Tell me what you know!”
“I did.” I raise my glasses. “My friends are waiting though. Nice talking June.”
Her mouth drops open again as I turn to leave to her shouting, “Juni you prick!”
I can’t deny that that didn’t bring me a bit of satisfaction.
Your POV:
He was incredibly attractive and I might have even blushed when he smiled at me with his full attention but other than that…I’m a bit bored. The thing is he hasn’t detached from his group of friends for one minute and even though he includes me in the conversations—and they are a very lighthearted and funny group, a lot of their inside jokes go over my head and it’s not because of the shots I’d done to get over my nerves tonight. And I’m pretty sure a couple of them are already high.
“And then he blackflips off the pole and-“ the friend telling the story starts laughing too much to finish and I smile along as Drevan shakes his head at me.
“They like to tell this story to pretty girls so they all know I’ve had concussions.”
“Concussions?!” I ask. “Like, multiple?”
Drevan shrugs but his friend hears me.
“Yes! He lands in the bin on his head and knocks himself out-“
“It was actually scary at first,” someone else pipes in.
“I would be shit scared.” These were clearly the type of guys who thought edging death was hilarious. Doubts creep in about whether Drevan was even hook-up material. How did Juni find this guy appropriate?
“I would be too if I was conscious.” Drevan says and everyone laughs.
As they talk about something else, Drevan snakes his hand around my shoulder and I smile at him. He winks and goes back to listening. At least he smelled nice.
My eyes wander the room spotting classmates and familiar faces. Rhia’s in the far end of the room and she gives me a thumbs up, I throw a grimace back. Her brows tighten and I shake my head subtly to tell her not to worry.
I hadn’t seen Harry yet, as hard as I was trying not to look for him. I knew he was probably in some dark corner with a new girl and I shouldn’t care because I was here with someone else.
“Hey YN how come we don’t see you around a lot?” One of his friends ask. All the names were thrown at me so long ago I can’t remember any of them.
“Oh I uhm,” I hate being put in the spotlight like this. “I’m just not a regular at these things.”
“I heard you’re smart as shit,” one of them says.
“Yeah I heard that too,” Drevan nods, impressed.
“I guess yeah,” I shrug. “I work hard to get good grades.”
“Good for you,” Drevan says. “So do you…do any…extracurriculars?”
I just know his definition of extracurriculars is not mine.
“Like do parkour onto the unstable bins at the back of school?” I ask.
“Nah,” he grins. “That’s funny though. I mean do you smoke or…”
Once. Rhia, Juni, and I had begged Rhia’s brother to let us have some of his stash last summer. We’d worn him down with our whining and he agreed to it if we stayed inside until we were sober. And we did, it was one of the highlights of last summer us giggling at everything and watching our favourite romcom while ordering takeaway and eating like we were 13. It was one of those days my life’s worries were able to slide away and I could just enjoy being a teen with my friends.
“I’ve dabbled,” I stay vague. “But it’s been a while.”
His eyes light up. “Want to join?”
I look around the group and the idea of swapping something between their lips to me—I’m sure they were fine but I didn’t know them and it makes my stomach squirm.
“Ehh I’m not big on swapping with everyone—no offence I just-“
“Yeah yeah no worries—I’ve got an uncle who’s like a germaphobe.” Suddenly he’s reaching into his pockets and comes up with a contraption. There’s weed and papers and some other stuff and it makes me laugh. “What?”
“It’s like a lab in your pocket,” I laugh. “I wasn’t expecting that.”
“There’s enough to go around.” He grins. “So this one’s really concentrated but maybe that’s a bit much ehm…usually my line is I’ve got one for lovers and one for dreamers.”
Like I’ve summoned the devil, Harry appears in the doorway. I glance back at the group quickly so he doesn’t notice me watching him. Shite.
“I’ll take the lovers,” I shrug. Whatever that meant I figured the one for dreamers would get me more stoned which I’d rather not do here. Not that the one drag I plan on doing could affect me much.
“Yeah?” He raises his eyebrows.
“Yeah,” I smile. He starts to roll it up for me and it’s tighter than a Victorian woman in a corset. I’m sort of mesmerized at how adept his hands are at that. I fear I might have been led on by an actual stoner.
“What’s going on here?” Harry lazily makes his way beside me, hovering over where we sit just as Drevan holds it up to me.
“Heyy Styles c’mon over here!” They do a bro hug and I’m instantly irritated. Of course they know each other. “I was just letting her inspect my work before she takes it-“
“YN?” Harry looks at me and his eyes pierce me to the spot. “YN’s gonna smoke?”
“Yeah!” Drevan puts his arm around me again and unlike before I want him to take it back. “She chose the lovers special man—she’s into it!”
“Really?” Harry smiles. “YN I didn’t know you were into this stuff. I’ve really underestimated you.”
I give him a sarcastic smile. “I heard you’re good at that. I’m not into it but I do it occasionally…”
“Occasionally?” Harry raises a brow. Ugh I hated him.
Meanwhile Drevan’s lit it up and passes it to me. “First?”
I take it and just to prove a point I put it to my lips with my eyes on Harry and inhale exactly how Rhia’s brother taught us. It comes surprisingly easy.
“I’ll take a hit too.” Harry’s eyes don’t leave mine. We’re locked in a challenge.
“Go ahead,” I hand it to him and a small thrill passes through me when his hand brushes mine, when I think about his lips being where mine had just been. I was so screwed.
“I love this guy,” Drevan says beside me, oblivious. “On the field Style’s a legend—he’s somehow made the most goals as a defence. I mean who does that!”
I raise my brows as Harry releases, “Styles not where he’s supposed to be? Now why doesn’t that surprise me?”
Drevan laughs and Harry’s mouth quirks. Drevan takes the spliff from Harry’s outstretched hand but not before being Harry’s number one fan.
“He’s actually a speed demon. Everytime I’m on the field with him I know my legs are done in.”
“That’s because you’re stoned at every game,” Harry says.
“True! I pass every piss test they make me do though don’t I?”
“I don’t want to know,” I put my hand up. “How that’s possible.”
“Yeah sorry sorry,” Drevan smiles. Unfortunately he’s really handsome but the more the picture of him comes together and the more he goes on about Harry the more I know I wore my best matching set for nothing. “Lady present. Did you want another before I pass it?”
“Yeah do you?” Harry eyes me and only because he said it and because I’m feeling nothing so far (my eventual downfall), I take another. I try not to inhale too much but I don’t know how to do a short puff. I hope I don’t regret it. The smell coming off was already a lot.
“Mate?” Drevan asks Harry. He shakes his head. What a snake!
Drevan passes it on and of course Harry decides to stay standing and talking with the group. Apparently a few of them are in a band and they’re trying to convince Harry to help them out. Pretty soon I’m zoning out and my stomach feels funny.
“I don’t know if I feel so great,” I tell Drevan quietly. So what if it looks like I’m whispering sweet nothings in his ear if someone like Harry was watching.
“Oh shit,” Drevan turns into me. “You should get some water. Lay down? D’you want me to help you find-“
“No,” I did not want to hang out with Drevan anymore. He was nice but a pothead. “I got it. It might just be cramps.”
He nods like he understand, “I’ve got two younger sisters. I get that. If you feel better or want some more just come back here okay?”
“Thanks,” I try to convey my appreciation with a smile but I might just look like I’m high.
I ignore Harry as I leave the small group but a hand on my arm stops me as I round the couch.
“Find me later if it gets weird.” He says in my ear.
I lean back so I can see his face but he’s entirely serious. His eyes search mine as I stare at him blankly.
“The weed. Find me later if you need anything.”
He lets go of me. What the fuck? What would I need from him? He wants me to find him later when he’ll have a girl draped all over him just so I can seem needy and he can feel needed. Ugh.
“Girly!” I hear Juni’s voice and nearly collapse into her arms when I crash into her right outside the room.
“Juni oh my god. I’m so glad you’re here where’s Rhia?”
“I dunno? She found some old friend she knew when she was like 6 or something and she’s disappeared to catchup or whatever.”
“Oooh,” I wiggle my brows.
“No it’s legit an old friend. She moved when they were kids or something.”
“Aw,” I sigh. “That was the weirdest-“
“I’m so sorry,” she holds my arms and takes me onto the steps. “I’m gonna kill that guy I swear to god.”
“What? Drevan? No! He was really sweet!”
“No! My guy. YKW. I was trying to make him jealous while he was taking the piss because he totally recommended the class stoner and I pushed you onto him without doing any research! I feel awful!”
“It’s alright! He was really respectful actually. Maybe my type if he wasn’t a pothead?”
“No. No YN do not go there. Apparently he slept with a teacher!”
“No!” I gasp. “Do you think he was their dealer?”
“Obviously! And they probably couldn’t pay so he set up a barter system.”
“How much do you think one round covers?”
We pause to think before cackling at the story we’d just created.
“We’re idiots. Class idiots.” Juni says as we wipe our tears.
“I love us.” I say and realize how true it is. “I love you Juni. Honestly I don’t know where’d I’d be without you. And Rhia. You guys have kept me so together this past year.”
“Aww,” Juni hugs me sideways. “What are forever friends for babe.”
“Like I feel like I’ve just been going through a shitstorm and everything is still changing so much! And I can’t figure anything out! And you and Rhia are like standing on either side of me just keeping me up. I seriously-“
“Jeez don’t cry!” Juni wipes my lashline. “I don’t want to cry if I’m going to tear YKW a new one.”
“You haven’t already?”
“No! I was busy being a creep in the corner watching you to make sure Sir Pothead didn’t do any funny business. I saw you smoke his weed though. You alright?”
“Yeah. Maybe I just need the toilet I’m feeling a bit nauseous.”
“Okay. Just call me if you need me alright?”
“I love you,” I tell her. I want to squish her against me but I start to feel really poorly. “I’m gonna go though.”
“Go!” She waves me off. “I’ve got some yelling to do.”
The walk to the toilet is a fog and I run the tap to splash my face. It feels extra cold so I dial it down but it gets too hot. Suddenly I want to cry.
“Breathe,” I tell myself. “Breathe breathe breathe breathe. Oh my god. Okay. Let’s go with cold water.”
I splash the tundra water on my neck and along my throat. It feels better-ish.
I realize I hadn’t turned on the light when I can’t even see my reflection.
“Stupid,” I laugh. I turn it on and immediately stop laughing. My face…it’s drooping. Am I having a stroke?
I pull my cheeks up with my palms and squish it into my face but every time I let go I look like I’ve lived another 30 years and gravity has taken’s it’s toll on my face.
“What the fuck?” I whisper to myself. I whisper it again because it sounds nice. It feels good to swear. I say it again, a little louder and I laugh because I have no idea what’s going on.
I squeeze my eyes closed, shake my face, and look back. I look somewhat normal. My neck looks splotchy though. I rummage through a drawer but other than a blowdryer there’s nothing to help me.
“You’re an attractive girl and you’re just feeling a little fucked.” I tell myself in the mirror. “You-“
“Hurry!” Bang. “Up!” Bang.
I jump out of my skin and turn to stare at the door. Did I imagine that?
“Hello!” Bang.
Another succession of banging and shouting to get me out of the bathroom. How dare they?
I fling the door open and the guy on the other side startles.
I lean in and poke his chest. “Rude. Fucking rude!”
“I need the toilet!”
“I am a lady using it that’s rude! You don’t bang on the door like a fuckass while I’m in there!”
“Okay!” He holds his hands up. “Sorry! I had to use it and you were in there for hours!”
“It was not hours!” I say but even I can’t tell. “You’re a liar too!”
“I can’t do this I’ve got to go, here look I’m sorry-“ he shoves something into my hand and scrambles away, locking the door behind him.
It’s a glass bottle and it feels deliciously cold.
I inspect the bottle but it looks like beer. A few swigs and I finally feel less flushed. Less agitated. This was nice. This was perfect. Maybe he was an angel in a miserable disguise.
“Mmmm,” I laugh. Maybe I needed to dance. I felt like dancing.
I pass a few crowds, some rooms; when I see dancing I slide in. I don’t know what’s playing but it feels like it’s coming from my heart and it’s spilling out from me. Like I was the speaker. I spin around a few times so everyone can hear it, so the whole room could have just as much fun as me.
“Oh fuck,” I swear as the spinning catches up to me. “Not a good idea.”
I crouch into a corner and try to be patient. Wait for it to pass. But every second feels like a fucking decade and I don’t have the time.
“Hey are you alright?” A nice girl with cartoon-like eyes asks me. I know her. I just can’t remember where.
“Are you?” I ask. “I’m grand.”
“You don’t look it,” she smiles awkwardly. “Can I help you up.”
“I can get up,” I say but my legs feel tangled and she helps me up without asking eventually.
“Can I take you somewhere? Your friends or?”
“No no relax, you’re so nice!” I pat her shoulder. “And you have amazing bangs. I wish I looked good in bangs. My Nan cut my bangs when I was 12, microbangs!? And I wished I was never born! My face looked like a fucking square like a piece of toast! Oh god I could use toast right now. With beans. Uhhhhhh-“
“Hey,” the nice girl leans me against the wall. “How about you stay here and I get you water?”
Suddenly I remember Drevan telling me to drink water. I’m sure I had water but I nod. Water wouldn’t kill me. Unless I was drowning. Which is funny because I used to swim competitively. Like if I was in a thriller my parents would know I was murdered because I would have died drowning. I smile to myself just as a water bottle is held out to me.
“You know plastic’s killing the earth,” I take the bottle. “Isn’t it funny we bottle water in plastic when it’s free flowing out there? Hey do you know how to swim? You look like you could-“
“Drink!” She urges but she blushes. “You really should drink the water. You might be drunk…or high. You’re too wordy for a drunk.”
“I don’t know what I am.” I say after drinking half the bottle. “Actually I’m alive.”
She smiles at me and she’s really really nice to look at. “You are alive.”
“Yeah! I love being alive. Do you want to dance?”
“I don’t dance,” she shakes her head. “Plus I have to get back…Um. It was nice talking to you.”
“Nooo!” I clutch her hand. Her hands feel incredibly soft.
“Ow!” She pulls her hand away laughing. “You’re really squishing my hand.”
“Oh my god! I’m so sorry!”
“Don’t worry. You should call someone if you’re here. And you don’t feel good.”
“No I’m great!” I show her a dance move. “See? I can call my friend Juni. She’s great. You should find her you two could be friends! But I’ll call her first.”
“Okay,” she smiles again. “See ya around YN!”
I didn’t know her name. Oh no! I look for her but she’s disappeared into thin air.
I go back to dancing until my legs hurt and I’m thirsty all over again.
I wander to the front of the house in search of drink but I’m distracted by the chandelier that looks like it’s made of stars. I wonder how that’s possible. I stand at the foot of the staircase staring at it, the light was reflecting off of one, two, three, four, five, six, seven-
“What are we looking at?”
Harry. His head is level with mine and he’s staring at the ceiling.
“That? Duh.” I point to the stars. “It’s bloody beautiful.”
“It is,” he chuckles and the sound feels like it vibrates through me. Like those steel pans you hit with a mallet and it reverberates. “I can see you’re in the full throes of your high.”
“You’re high.” I retort as he stands back to full height. He really was high.
“Not really. But you,” he laughs, “you really inhaled that thing.”
“And you didn’t?”
“Barely. If I’m getting high I don’t like so much thc. Fucks with my head a little.”
“So then why’d you do it Styles?” I mock Drevan. I don’t know why. I just remember it had grated on me a little and it feels good to say. Like swearing. But staring up at him starts to make me feel dizzy as he sways around.
“Harry.”
“Huh?”
“It’s Harry.”
Weirdo. “Okay. Harry. Why’d you do it?”
“Because you were doing it.” He says with a flash of his dimple.
“So you’re a copycat? A follower?” I taunt. “Monkey see monkey do?”
“As long as we’re the pair of monkeys.” He leans in and the smell of him envelops me. “Then yeah. I am.”
His words, his smell, his presence. Whatever it is I lean away from the much-ness of it. I don’t know what to say to him.
“Well I dunno who you’re cal—woah.” I lean too far back and underestimate how far away the stair behind me is. I land on my bum with a thump.
“Hey,” Harry grabs my arm a second too late.
“Bad reflexes,” I point to his arm but it’s too late. My stomach dips and twirls like a fucking roller coaster and his hand on my arm feels more inappropriate than it is. But his touch. God, it’s warm and strong and stable. I needed that. Craved it.
A small voice screams at me in my head and I tell it to shut up. What did it know?
“That’s my bad,” he lets me go. I want to shout at him to bring it back.
“Your bad what?” I stare at his hand that’s no longer on my arm. I want it back.
“My bad reflexes.”
“I just said that.”
“I know! I’m saying you’re right.”
“Of course I’m fucking right!”
I finally drag my eyes up to his face. Goddamn. He looks just like I did in the mirror; his face slowly drooping like he’s aged 50. Still got a full head of hair though. It’s kind of nice.
Not you being attracted to a 50 year old.
“What? Have I got something on my face?” Harry asks but I can’t stop staring. How can he look good with a sagging face? And he’s got no wrinkles. I knew time was feeling really slow but had we aged that much tonight?
“YN?” His face disappears from view and then I feel it again—his hand on me. Oh god. His hand’s on my face to lower it until I’m looking at him. Eye-level.
He’s crouched down in front of me and his eyes are pools I want to drown in. Which would take a lot of effort because I am a really good swimmer. Maybe I could fake drown. I zip through the possibilities in a few seconds. There were so many of them.
He says my name again but it sounds far away. Slow. Like he’s pronouncing every letter. His brows further—there! A wrinkle! I laugh but his eyes just fill with something…something that reminds me of the night I cried in front of him. When he just looked at me like…
“Your face,” I slap my hands down on both his cheeks and he balances himself on the bannister, nearly falling back. “It’s drooping.”
“It’s what?” He laughs.
I smush his cheeks up and try to fix it, not that it needed to be fixed. He was stupidly attractive always.
“Drooping! Sagging! I just need to push it up! I’ve done it before don’t worry.”
“YN,” his fingers circle my wrist and I stop what I’m doing immediately. Surely he feels how erratic my pulse is. Like a machine gun releasing into his finger.
Don’t look into his eyes don’t look into his eyes don’t-
Damnit.
Green and never-ending, a question I’m afraid to answer, an emotion that I felt myself but denied, the beginning of something I could not step into. I could not step into. I could not step into this.
With a gentle tug he’s removed my hands off his face and now, even worse, they lay on top of his.
Maybe…I could step into this.
“Talk to me, what’s happening?” He asks but again it sounds like a Tiktok video I’ve put into 0.75.
I can’t talk. My hands are in his but it feels like my heart’s there instead and like my mouth has travelled to the back of my head. He wants me to talk. Like I did that night. He looks at me like he cares. Like that night. He’s not supposed to care.
Why didn’t I take the high road that afternoon—my brain scrambles as the joke writes itself: I was taking the high road today whether I liked it or not. But I chose to be petty when we talked. Why would I want to hurt him? He cared. He wasn’t supposed to though.
“I thought weed was s’posed to calm you down.” I finally manage to get it out.
“You chose the wrong one for calming down.” He laughs. The sound washes over me.
“Huh? I’m not calm. My mind is a factory for thoughts. The production is endless I feel like I’m going to explode and everyone’s going to know everything in here.”
“Is that such a bad thing?” He squeezes my hands. I squeeze my legs. “Might be nice for top class YN YLN to join us mortals and share some regular thoughts.”
“Oh these are not regular. Fuck. Drevan should’ve given me a warning.”
He smiles fondly and I hate it and I love it. “He did.”
“What!?” I’m so confused right now. “Stop! I don’t like how I’m feeling!”
“Did you drink anything?”
“Yeah! Th-that miserable angel gave me…I dunno. He just gave it to me after being an asshat what was I s’posed to do!”
“I’m not even gonna ask,” he mutters and I feel the words through my hands. That are still touching mine.
“Why are you still holding my hands?”
“You don’t want me to?”
“No.”
He slips them away. But that wasn’t what I meant.
“No I want you to touch me,” I say. His eyebrows which looks one inch tall shoot up. I reach out to flatten them and they return to normal.
“Uhm,” he clears his throat. “Y-you do?”
I reach out to touch his face again because it just feels like it fits so perfectly in the palm of my hand. It’s warm and alive and a little prickly. But it feels so nice. He feels nice. I want him to touch me too. I nod.
“How?” He turns his face in my palm and it’s like bristles against my soft skin but then his lips press against my palm. I find it harder to breathe like all the air’s gone to my head.
He looks back at me and I want what his gaze has. I want every single thing they’re communicating. I felt like I could read his mind; we both took a hit of the same thing, maybe I can.
“Like that,” I whisper.
“Like this?” His fingers circle my wrist and he kisses it, exactly where my pulse continues on its kill streak. I don’t think I needed weed or anything because his kisses alone make me feel high. The kind of high I did with my friends. The fun high.
I can’t speak. I simply nod.
“Y’sure?” He kneels on the step below me and I unsqueeze my legs. His hands cage me against the step I’m on and he’s all around me, and even though he hasn’t touched me yet it’s like his essence vibrates out to touch mine. Like maybe they meet in the middle and create something delicate and bewitching.
“I’m sure,” I manage to say.
I feel perfectly overwhelmed as he leans into me and presses a kiss to my throat. But it’s too slow.
“You’re killing me,” I tell him when he kisses me again by my ear.
“That was your job,” he comes back to face me.
“It’ll be my job if you don’t touch me in the next five seconds.”
“Fucking hell,” Harry’s swear catches me off guard.
“What?”
“You say those types of things in my dreams. I never thought I’d hear them out of those lips of yours again.”
I don’t know what to say. My mind literally quiets. Finally. It feels sobering.
“I can’t give you what you want out here.”
Then he’s standing. He’s fucking standing and further away from me than before. How dare he! How-
Oh.
He extends a hand and I take it, I let him pull me up and with a hand to my back that feels like a pulse he leads me upstairs. And then up another flight. He walks like he knows the place and everything blurs until he closes a door behind him. My heart beats like an elephant stampede until he comes back to me and cups my face, looks at me in that exact Harry way, and kisses me.
I’m falling but I’m unafraid. There’s his strong and steady arms to catch me at the end.
We make our way to the bed and I feel it. That’s everything. I just feel the sounds and colours and emotions and touch, the air and the bedpost and the way he says my name against me. I feel it. I feel it grounding me.
“Wait,” when he pulls away I nearly launch myself at him but I feel too relaxed to even be mad. He’s perched on the bed with me between his legs. I keep my hands around his neck because I couldn’t bare to have them by my side. “Should we be doing this? You’re not really with it and-“
“I’m not bloody unconscious.”
“I know but you’re not in the right mindset.”
“I’m practically begging you to touch me Harry. You’re really slow for someone who’s meant to be a womanizer.”
“Hold on,” he puts his hands back on my waist and I relax marginally. “It’s a consent thing. I know my way around women perfectly.”
I knew.
“I consent. ‘Kay?”
“But you’re high and probably drunk? I don’t-“
“You’ve never slept with someone high?”
“Yeah! But you’re….you’re you!”
“What’s that mean?” I frown. I unclasp my hands and take a step back.
He runs a hand down his face and sighs. “Not like that. Come back. I mean you don’t normally do this sort of thing. It’s obviously the first time you’ve taken a hit from something this strong and…” all the words taper off as I cross my arms. “Okay! Nevermind! You’re alright with all this?”
“Yes. Yes a hundred bajillion million times. Do you want me to walk in a straight line with my finger on my nose?”
“No,” he shakes his head. “No I’m sorry.”
It’s nice, him apologizing. It thaws me a little. When I’m close enough he tugs me back by the jeans and unbuttons them slowly. Everything was too slow.
“What were you saying about begging?” He grins up at me. I liked when he was looking up at me.
“I said practically.”
His hands roam freely up under my tee and I feel like I’m melting. Like a literal scoop of ice cream on a hot summer’s day.
He fingers my bra and his brows suddenly come together. It’s very animated I almost laugh.
“Take this off,” he removed his hands from my body and tugs at the tee. I do what he tells me to, just wanting his hands on me again. When it’s a pile on the ground he leans back, cocking his head to the side.
“What?” I throw my hands up. “You’re gonna ask me just t’stare?”
“No this,” he leans forward again and uses the band of my exposed knickers to pull me forward. When I’m close enough he eyes my bra. “This was for him?”
A flush erupts under my skin and it feels volcanic. Some of it pools in my belly and the rest creeps up my neck.
The this is my one and only 2 piece set I’d kept for special occasions. Well a singular one before my ex broke up with me last year. It had seen the light of day once in between and tonight I had worn it for luck. It’s lacy and black and makes me feel confident. In front of Harry it makes me feel powerful.
He was jealous. Of course the one guy that sleeps with whoever he wants would be the jealous type.
“Maybe,” I egg it. Even though I am desperate for this night to move on I can’t deny the thrill of having him be jealous. It affirms the needy part of me that wanted to believe we had something different—the part rational me wouldn’t ever pay attention to.
“So you planned it all out?” He removes his fingers from my waistband and leans back again. “You were going to come here, in that, and sleep with…him?”
“Why not him?” I bite my smile but I barely feel what my face is doing. “If it’s too much for your ego I wore this for someone el-“
“No.”
He says it as a complete sentence. I am gagged but I try my best not to show it.
“I just don’t like the idea of it.”
“Well,” I step in between his legs. His eyes are so dark I have to think just to remember the colour they usually were. “This isn’t the first time so better get used to the idea.”
“But you’re here with me tonight.”
“I am…lucky you.” I can’t help the chesire grin from creeping in. I climb atop the bed, one knee on either side of him. This was taking too long. I needed him all over me.
He leans all the way back into the bed with a noisy sigh.
I lean in, “jealous aren’t you?”
“Do you like that?”
I lean further until I could smell his pulse. “D’you want me to like that?”
“Yeah,” he gulps. “W-would you ever be? Jealous?”
I kiss his throat. I want to bite it. Like a vampire. I resist.
“You’re not mine to be jealous.”
“Do you want me to be?” He asks so earnestly I lean back to see his face.
“Mine?” I ask. He nods. I did. I didn’t. I did. But I didn’t. “Mmmm don’t think you’re ready for that.”
“Ouch,” he says softly. His hands settle on my hips.
“Don’t ouch me. You’ve never had a long-term relationship and you run.”
“You’re different. You make me feel different.”
Same. But instead I ask, “And in three months time when we’re…gone and in different cities?”
“I’ll never stop wanting you.”
We fix each other with a stare equal parts frustrated, curious, and cautious. It was getting too serious—I didn’t want to ruin my chances of getting my needs met tonight. I clear my head and ease the tension.
“You’re jus’ saying this to get into my pants aren’t you?”
He plays along, “Is it obvious?”
“Yes. Now be a good boy and help me out of them.”
His mouth opens a little, honestly I don’t know where that even came from. I blame it on the drugs. He helps me out and when I’m only in the 2 piece he stops me.
“I’m never forgetting this night. Ever.”
“Shut up and get over here.” I roll my eyes. He was full of it.
His lips on me are like no drug anybody could ever hand me. They’re confident and unafraid, exploring every inch of me like a pirate looking for lost treasure. They make me gasp and beg and feel the entire universe and every single thing ever creates.
It leaves me untethered but he wraps me in his arms and I’m safe. I’m here with him. And for tonight, we’re together. With every move we build a universe just us.
H’s POV:
For the first time in my life I pray for red lights.
Every time my car stops I get to look at her in my passenger seat and I want to pinch myself. I can’t believe tonight was real. That she’s real. That even after everything, we got to have tonight together.
She’s got lowered inhibitions you just got lucky, a part of me says. And I know that. I know tonight was a one-off. She was never going to be this YN with me again.
Where I used to be afraid of this, of committing to her. I want it. I can’t imagine being with anyone else. When she said I wasn’t ready she was right but I didn’t want her to be. Maybe I had to change.
“Hey you’re home,” I say after being parked outside her house for a few minutes and just soaking in the last moments. It was warm in the car and quiet except for the low hum of the radio because YN had said it was making her sleepy. When she first sat in the car she had looked up at me through her long lashes for so long I had forgotten to turn the ignition on. When we realized she had laughed and leaned over to kiss me. Sweetly on the cheek. Like a girlfriend might.
I’d never wanted a girlfriend before.
It hurt knowing she might not even remember tonight. Or if she would it would be overshadowed by her other feelings. The feelings that came with baggage.
It was different seeing her so carefree tonight. I wonder if that’s how she was before all the stuff with her grandparents. And suddenly I’m mad at myself for not paying attention sooner. At her ex for hogging her for all that time. I imagine I met her earlier and could help her through the storms of last year.
God, I was becoming a simp. I look at her again, I didn’t care. Not if it was for her.
I open my door and go around into the street to open hers. As afraid as I was that her parents would find me outside with their basically passed-out daughter I just knew she couldn’t make it to the front door alone.
“Hey sleepy monkey, we gotta get you inside.”
“Huh?” She squints, blinks a few times. It was adorable and it makes something squirm in my chest. “Whatimeist?”
“Uhhh,” I look at my phone and notice the texts from a few people. “Half past 2 or so.”
“Oh god,” YN groans and covers her face with her jacket.
While she orients herself I check my messages. Akil had asked where I disappeared, Gemma’s asking me if I’ll be home for breakfast, and Dana asking me if YN was alright.
I owed it to Dana, she had found YN in a right state as she told me and that had pushed me to go looking for her where I’d found her in a daze staring at the ceiling lights. Thank god I had.
YN removes her legs from the car with a thump and then slumps over. I catch her this time and pull her up, closing the door behind her.
“You’ll have to help me a little,” I grunt.
“Mmk,” she mumbles. She wraps her arm around me and tucks into me and I take her to her front door.
“Keys.”
She paws at her jacket and eventually finds a pair.
“I don’t want to get you in trouble,” I whisper. “So I’m going to unlock the door and give you back your keys.”
“Why are you whispering?” She whispers back. “Huh?”
“I don’t want to get you in trouble!” I shout-whisper.
“Silly boy,” her eyes crinkle with a laugh. “My parents aren’t home.”
“Oh.” Suddenly the night stretches ahead.
“They’re travlingain.” She yawns. “You can sleepover?”
“No.” I couldn’t I realize with a wash of shame. Because waking up to her I don’t know what that meant. As much as I denied her claim about me not being ready deep down she was right.
She pouts and I busy myself with opening her door. She’s like a leech on me as I try to get her through and I end up inside with the door closing behind me.
“Drop me to bed?”
“You want to be tucked in?” I tease. She nods with a tired smile.
Who was I to deny such a cute face.
She leads me to her room, most of the house is too dark to see so I rely on her. Once in her room she turns on a lamp and sets about getting pjs.
“I’m gonna hate myself if I don’t,” she points to her face. “Ughhhh.”
“Glad I don’t relate.” I say but already I’m looking around her room. Every surface has something; I didn’t take YN as a collector but there’s piles of things everywhere. Seashells on her bookshelf, postcards on her wall, plushes on her bed, jewellery on her dresser next to miniature fruit figurines. I pick up a tiny pomegranate the size of my nail.
“I’m making them into earrings.” She says behind me. “My Nan likes that sort of thing.”
I didn’t expect her so fast. I turn and she sounds more sober and looks it too. Her face is freshly washed and she’s in an oversized shirt but only her legs peek out underneath. I recall the strength of them as they locked around my body just an hour ago, the sound of her and the feel of her—it was tattooed into a part of my brain.
But the YN presented before me is a lot like the one I see at school, and for a moment I get ready for her to kick me out. Accuse me of something. Go cold on me.
But she shuffles over and wraps her arms around me, lays her head on my chest. I slowly wrap my arms around her. The moment feels soft.
“Thanks for dropping me,” she says quietly. “I feel so fucked.”
“I know,” I chuckle. “You’ll be brand new in the morning. I made you drink a couple bottles of water before we left.”
“I don’t remember,” she mumbles tiredly.
“Let’s get you tucked into bed.” I say. She follows, and giggles the whole time I exaggeratedly tuck in every side of her. I love every second of it and I can’t believe it. If you told Harry of a month ago I would be doing this and having more fun than I’ve had with any girl I’d tell you to you were fucking with me.
“Stay? ‘Til I sleep?” She asks as soon as I finish.
I hesitate. I was so afraid a switch would go off any second, she would regret everything from tonight. I don’t realize how tense I am about it until a hand sneaks out from under the duvet and grips mine.
“Hey I just tucked you in!”
“Sorry!” She slips it back in with a shy smile.
“Fine,” I grumble and climb atop the blankets. At least this way I wouldn’t get too comfortable.
She turns to face me and we just watch each other in the warm glow of her lamp until her eyes flutter close. I wait until her breathing goes even and then I gently climb over her, kiss her goodnight, and leave. My heart chips further as I step over the threshold of her house. A little more as I drive away.
***YN:
I’m trying to remember which club I had tonight as I grab the textbooks I need from my locker for morning classes. My second period was so far away I just liked to get everything in at once.
The face that greets me as I close my locker door has my heart racing.
I wait for the familiar edginess but when I look at him I just feel confused. And a bit sad. Or that could be because he’s looking at me like I have the last Easter egg and I might share it with him for a prize.
“Harry,” I greet him.
“YN.” He says equally serious before cracking a smile.
He’s different. Friendlier? Or lighter?
“What?” I look around me. He raises his brows so I raise mine back. It feels silly.
The last time I saw him was at the party smoking weed laced with god knows what—I barely remembered the party after that which was entirely unlike me. All I could find was a text from Rhia asking if I’d made it home and when asked Juni had said she had left me looking fine and she couldn’t find me afterwards but she heard I might have been sick.
“Did you make it in alright?” He finally asks. “You got surprisingly fucked up Saturday night.”
I know he was there at the beginning. And I remember talking to him about something later, maybe the stars? It’s such a haze. But the way Harry’s looking at me makes my stomach turn; there was a possibility something could have happened.
It was weird waking up safely in my room with only a vague notion of how I got there. I remember someone waking me up and being in my room but I woke to an empty bed. An empty house.
Usually I slept at Nan’s when mum and dad travelled but I was still not talking to her much. The house felt emptier. My room felt different. My clothes from the night before had smelled like weed. It was not cute.
“Uh yeah I did?” Why was he talking to me so casually? I match his vibe in hopes of understanding the weekend better. “I didn’t have a hangover luckily. But I don’t think weed normally does that? I was incredibly hungry though. Like…I made a breakfast for five at least.”
Oh god and now I was blabbering. I was nervous! I don’t know if he had anything to do with Saturday night and I didn’t know how to act around him being so nice!
“Yeah well I think you had fun Saturday.”
I freeze. “What did I do? Please tell me I didn’t do anything embarrassing. I only remember bits.”
“Uh,” he falters. “Uh well I…I heard. That um, you were dancing and having the time of your life so.”
“Kill me,” I groan.
“That’s not my job.” He jokes but I don’t get it. His smile falls, his brows pinching together. It’s so unlike him.
“I don’t get it.”
“Nothing. Bad joke.”
“Right.” As the time ticks closer to first bell the hall we’re in crowds more with tired teens. “Is that why you stopped by? To ask about making it home?”
“Erm, not really. I guess…was just gonna ask if you were coming to football?”
“Today?”
“Yeah the game after school.”
“Isn’t it early in the season?”
“It is but we’re doing a scrimmage against our ‘favourite frenemies’. It’ll be good. You should come. Your dealer might even be there.”
I ignore the dealer comment. “Are you short a cheerleader Styles?”
The banter pauses as he stares at me and I nearly ask him if he’d hit his head over the weekend when he clears his throat, “Harry.”
“Huh?”
Another pause where he looks like he’s doing quantum physics in his head. “Nevermind.”
What the hell? My skin prickles as heat creeps in.
“So you’re in need of a cheerleader?” I say lamely, just to dial down the intensity. Something had to have happened right? Last thing I remember I had “walked away” with pride but a chipped heart and we’d been polite to each other in school. Suddenly he’s here being boyish and friendly, and I’m here like I skipped a chapter and I’ve got a pop quiz again.
“Are you volunteering?” He asks.
“I forgot my outfit at home. I’ll have to pass altogether.”
I sidestep him and start walking away.
“Wait,” he runs ahead to stop me and gets dirty looks as he intercepts the path of a few students heading to class. “What if I said….I’d like for you to come.”
I stare. Like perhaps he’s grown a second head. Because he sort of has. It was just as pretty but much nicer and it’s sort of terrifying.
Did I cry to him some more? Was he pitying me?
“Why would you say that?” I ask genuinely.
“Well uh, you heard about my playing, I’d like for you to see it.”
“So you need cheerleaders.” I echo.
He searches my face but he must not find what he’s looking for. Something slides across his features that I don’t catch fast enough but it makes my heart skip a beat nonetheless. This casual conversation felt precarious. I needed it to end until I had more context.
I raise my brows and it prompts him to actually respond.
“Nevermind uh that’s alright. I’m sure you’ve got books to read and clubs to conquer right?”
A speck of guilt lodges itself in my throat. “Something like that.”
“Well,” he shrugs. “I had to ask! I’ll just have to find someone who brought their pom poms to school today.”
“Good luck!” I call after him, kind of wishing he wasn’t walking away. But he was. And that’s when I realize why he was lighter. He’d been standing in front of me talking without that ego of his. And openly in front of anyone walking by and he didn’t care. Then I’d rejected him.
Ugh. Maybe I’d have to turn up to that game if I could. But before then I had to try as hard as possible to figure out what the hell happened the other night.
***
“You guys need to tell me what happened Saturday night. As much as you can remember. After that conversation Juni you and me. And I remember going to the loo. And then I remember talking to Harry maybe? Please tell me.”
“Shite.” Both my friends eye each other. “What’s led this on?”
“Harry! He was bring incredibly nice to me today. In public! I feel like something happened but I can’t bloody remember!”
“Well he did drop you home,” Rhia says so casually. I whip towards her and at the same time both Juni and I shout “What!?”
“What!” Rhia says defensively. “I didn’t realize you didn’t remember that part! You seemed pretty sober by then.”
“You totally missed telling that detail that night! How dare you let her go anywhere with that pig! Sober or not!” Juni breathes fire. I’m surprised because on Friday she didn’t hate him this much. What the hell happened Saturday?
“Well she seemed fine. I double checked—YN I doubled checked with you you were okay with that. You told me it was fine. He was just dropping you home and he wasn’t drunk!”
“Wait wait back up. Tell me everything.”
So Rhia tells me how I’d texted her I was leaving with Harry and he was dropping me. How she’d rushed to the front of the house to catch me—and she had. I was alone trying to get my arms through my jacket and failing. She had asked me if everything was okay, I’d told her I was still coming down from the high and Harry was taking me home. How I wanted him to.
Then apparently Harry had shown up with water for me. And Rhia thought that was helpful. She watched, shocked, as he helped me into my jacket one sleeve at a time like I was in preschool. Then she’d got up in his face and had him swear he’d take me right home. Even took down his number in case I stopped responding.
“So was I with him the whole night?” I ask.
Rhia and Juni shrug.
Juni contributes: “Well that girl that hangs out with them—bangs, really big brown eyes? She came up to me when I was alone and asked if I was Juni and she told me you were dancing in this room and you looked a bit sick.”
I groan. Harry had said something about dancing.
“I tried to find you but you disappeared. I was worried and tried to find Rhia but she disappeared!” Juni looks at her with an accusation.
“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to desert!”
“Yeah well then I got distracted and by the time I went looking for you again this one here told me you’d gone home. She failed to mention who with.”
Rhia rolls her eyes.
I hold my head in my hands. “Guys this is a nightmare. I am having massive regrets. Can regrets give you a hangover? I feel hungover!”
My friends try to reassure me as much as I can but it’s no use. I feel like my life is spinning out again.
As far as the pieces I could put together: after the loo I’d danced and Harry’s friend found me—I think I knew her from when I did swim, maybe her name started with an M? Now that I thought about it I do vaguely remember her asking me a question. Maybe that’s how Harry found me. Because of her. And then he took me home? I hope?
No that was the story I had to go with. Otherwise I would spiral. I repeat it to my friends and they confirm it sounded right-ish.
“But that was sweet of him right? To drop me off home and leave the party early?” I ask my friends.
“Yeah-“ Rhia starts to say but Juni holds her hand out.
“Don’t bloody go there. I forbid that.”
Me and Rhia look at each other. She shrugs and I tell Juni I wouldn’t.
I mull over everything the entire afternoon. Even during the club meeting after school, not really participating and getting asked if I was okay. Obviously I was not.
I do make it to the last half of the game and hope Juni doesn’t find out. It’s just something I feel like I had to do because he had asked so genuinely and I did owe him for taking care of me Saturday.
I find a spot somewhere where I can see and try to spot Harry. It’s not hard when he’s got the ball, legs pumping, headband pushing his curls back and a look of pure determination as he gets to the net and kicks directly….into the goalie’s mitts. The crowd groans.
“Isn’t he defence?” I ask someone beside me.
“It’s a scrimmage game,” they reply. “They play the opposite position for fun. He’s really good though he should be front all the time.”
He is. And it’s kind of…attractive? I understood Dreven’s fangirling. And why Harry was such a big name amongst the girls. I kind of got it now.
Speaking of Dreven I spot him on the sidelines. I shuffle behind someone so he doesn’t spot me.
As the minutes tick by Harry and his team score a few more goals that makes it even. With just a couple minutes left on the clock it’s a tie and everybody shuffles to the side of the field where our team get’s a penalty kick.
I stay with the stragglers on this side, bouncing up and down with adrenaline. I can’t believe I’ve never gone to one of these. I always had some test or club to be busy with. But this is clearly what brought the schools together.
Right before the final whistle Harry makes a perfect shot on goal and the crowd goes absolutely mad. People are shouting and jumping for joy, clutching each other and chanting his name.
Harry runs half the field and pumps his arms, clashing with a few of his teammates who jump around him. It’s funny and cute.
As his team huddles around him and they walk to the chants of our school to the sidelines a couple girls slide out of the edges. A couple go to some of the other boys, one in particular wraps herself around Harry and kisses him with quite the show. The crowd only gets rowdier while the ref blows her whistle.
I, on the other hand, feel emptied.
I watch his arm snake around her waist. Press her to him. Her hands clutching his face. It feels like it goes on for eons. Eons and a day.
When the horrid thing finally ends he lifts his hands to the crowd and they cheer him. Not just for being a winner but for being a womanizer too.
I was an idiot. He had been nice to me, sweetened me up this morning about coming here. That didn’t mean anything. That didn’t mean he actually cared that I was here.
And then the worst part of all. He shouts into the air and turns to his team but his eyes clash with mine as he does. He does a double take, and we stare at each other halfway across the fields. He looks like he’s broken into his mum’s makeup and made makeup soup and his mum’s just come home. I imagine I look like someone’s just turned all my makeup into makeup soup.
I had to get out of here.
Why did I come? Why didn’t i just stay after the meeting and finished up work. I could have gone my entire secondary school existence without ever coming to one of these stupid games.
I feel lower than I have in a long time. I feel homesick suddenly and I decide then it was time to go. Home. And maybe home wasn’t the empty house I was stubbornly staying in. Maybe I had to chuck my hurt and my ego out the window and go crawling back to Nan. She would help me sort this heart of mine out. This wretched thing that kept on going even after it took a beating.
H’s POV:
One moment I’m on top of the world; first game of the year and I’ve scored the winning goal. The next I feel like I’ve been caught red-handed.
I want to tear away from the boys. I want to go to her explain it away but I’m surrounded and I only catch a glimpse of her looking away and then leaving. Gone.
“Hey man where are you going!?” One of the guys asks as I break away. “We’re all going to eat!”
“I’ll meet you guys there! I forgot to do something!”
“Aw cmon!” They hurl words at me trying to get me to stay but I jog away. She’s disappeared.
I jog back to the building and my head swivels every hall I go down as I head towards her locker. I find her slamming it shut and hoisting her bag onto her back.
“Hey!” I finally reach her. “YN hey! I wasn’t expecting you at the game.”
Her mouth opens like she has something to say. I wait for the usual fieryness but she deflates.
“Yeah. Congrats. That was a great final goal. Very dramatic. And you found your cheerleader too. I can see why everyone loves you out there.”
Fuck. She was going back to the other YN, the one who acted like she didn’t care, the one who had stayed out of my league all throughout school.
I wanted the YN in the quiet moments in the dark. The one tucked into my arms with the look of curiosity as she looked into my eyes and right to my soul. Even the confused one from this morning who was hesitant but there was still a possibility I could win her over.
This YN had slammed the door shut.
“It was just for show.” I try to explain.
“The goal?” She squints.
“No. No the-I didn’t need a cheerleader. She wasn’t…it was just for show. After scoring the winning goal it didn’t mean anything-“
“It’s whatever.” She cuts me off. “God you don’t have to explain anything to me.”
“I feel like I do, I didn’t know you were coming. I didn’t invite you just to-“
“Oh my god!” She cuts me off again. “It’s fine! I’m…it’s whatever. It’s not like you’re mine or something. We hooked up like weeks ago, we already talked about all of this. You’re off the hook remember? No messy feelings to complicate our lives, especially mine?”
Yet her eyes water as she says it and she blinks until it’s gone. My heart feels like it’s drowning in those unshed tears. Her words are also the final confirmation; she didn’t remember the weekend. I would just be cursed to remember what we could have been by myself. I probably deserved it.
“I know.” I want to say more. But she shrugs and looks like she’s going to leave. “Look…”
She waits instead. It gives me enough time to rush through every single thing I wanted to say to her. Every promise I wish I could make her.
“I’m sorry.” I say instead. Sorry for kissing that girl, and for inviting her to see that. Sorry for not being able to tell her what I really want to say. Sorry that she was so true about what she said the other night: I don’t think you’re ready for that.
Her lips tighten. Without another words she turns to head out the door. This time I don’t try again. I just watch her and die a little inside.
***
It’s hard to find your flow again when you feel so irrevocably changed. The final 3 months of our final year fly by but as cheesy as it sounds sometimes it felt like one of those 2000s music videos where you’re standing still and everyone is rushing past you.
I still see YN around, and as weeks go by we go back to being in our own worlds. They no longer overlap like a venn diagram. She stops coming to parties and I try not to drive by her house any time I’m in her neighbourhood.
I hear she got asked to the school dance by someone. I carry forward my own stereotype of not committing and ask nobody.
On the outside my grades are still good and I continue to be a force on the field. I’m home more often for dinner and my family stops pestering me as much. When I go to parties I spend more time just hanging out with my mates than I do finding girls that lit a spark. It used to be that any girl could hold a candle to the last ones but now it felt like faking it when a girl whose name I barely remembered tried to seduce me into an empty room.
It’s like now that I’ve felt a true connection I couldn’t go back to just anything. Some days I hated it.
A part of me feels ridiculous because when I Google my symptoms most people just say it’s heartbreak. But how could I feel something like this when I never gave my heart away at all. When I’d kept it selfishly caged and insisted that I couldn’t part with it. Our English teacher had asked when teaching Romeo and Juliet is it better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.
I think I would rather have never loved at all.
***
TAG: @peachedfruit @eversincehs1 @loverofhsandallthings1d (taglist still open lmk)
A/N: this one’s sort of from a request in my inbox but coincidentally I came across a reel where this song was from the guy’s pov and it + the comments obviously got me inspired (IG: itschloeduvall—recommend!). It’s not my best but here’s a mash of your and Harry’s POVs based somewhat on Gracie’s TST <3
Part 2 / 3 / 3.5 / 4
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The stuffy room buzzed with the attendees of both schools that bordered our borough. There’s laughter and music flowing through the rooms and a laid-back atmosphere.
When our uniforms were on the school rivalry was always thick but at these sorts of house parties everyone was friendly. Yet despite it all I’m not as laid back as I want to be.
I lean against the kitchen island, and listen to my friends banter. From where I stand I can see the beer pong played on the table to my right but also all the way down the hall rammed with bodies to the front door.
“Bet you didn’t notice why I wore blue shadow,” Zoe bats her eyelashes up at me. She was a year younger than me and just as into me as all the other girls I’ve been with. She knew exactly how to handle herself and how to be fun. But that’s what made girls like Zoe cool. They adored you until they didn’t, and I would have fun with them before that expiry came around.
“I noticed,” I press a kiss to the shell of her ear.
“Really?” She laughs and pulls away. “You didn’t say!”
“Not right now,” I look down at her. I remember the first time she approached me leaning against my car in the parking lot. It was just days after I ghosted my last fling and I didn’t think I was going to have a new one so soon but when life gives you lemons...
“Why?”
“I was going to save the admiring for later.”
“Oh?” She puts her hands on her hips but there’s a tipsy sparkle to her eye. “Harry I don’t need to just be admired in private!”
“I’m here with you tonight aren’t I?” I brush her cheek, kiss her neck. “This is me admiring you publicly.”
“Really?” She murmurs.
I kiss her long and lingering in response.
“Well I don’t mind—public or private.” Zoe says when we part. The look in her eyes undresses me right there.
I don’t know why I look up just then but my line of sight to the door shows me exactly who walked in.
YN’s cheeks are flushed from the cold and I nearly remember the feeling of my burning lips against them.
The memory comes flooding back in a rush—the night we sat in my car by the chilly beach. We’d been hooking up for a couple weeks by then. And she had been crying and trying not to, and for the first time in my life I’d wanted to take all the pain away from someone. And it terrified me.
It got too close; I hated how it made me feel. I hated how it lingered. I had no choice but to quit her cold turkey after that. I try to push all of that out of my mind when I feel Zoe's hand on my arm.
“Would you be mad if I wanted to leave early with you? I bummed some stuff off my friend we could hang out in your car…”
“We can leave early,” I promise her. She was hard to resist. “Let’s just act like we’re interested in being here first though.”
Zoe gives me a peck and leans into me, her cheek resting on my chest. My gaze drifts back to YN, just in time for her to look my way. I force my eyes to slide off of her, she didn’t mean anything special. She wasn’t any more special than the girl in my arms.
But I can’t deny the physical jolt that goes through me, how the blood roars in my ears in the split second we locked eyes.
Fuck that. I don’t care. She should know I don’t. I imagine her watching me with Zoe, knowing she and I would only ever be another discarded fling.
“Your heart’s racing,” Zoe comments, cheek still glued to my chest.
“Feeling restless. I’m grabbing a drink.” I leave her a lingering kiss before I head to the beer pong part of the kitchen. But a sensation creeps up my neck I can’t shake.
I end chatting with some of the guys watching a football match—knowing them from the team when I played last season.
Zoe eventually joins me after making eyes at me across the room from the kitchen where she was caught in conversation. And even though there’s a few inches of space beside me and Marty on the couch she wriggles her way in, most of her body draped over me.
I don’t mind it, she was miniature sized. I tell her that.
“I could fit you in my pocket,” I muse.
She presses her palms into my chest, her eyes dark with want. “If I’m in your trousers I don’t want to be in your pockets.”
She laughs into the next kiss.
She really didn’t hold back.
“Watch watch watch,” Marty shoves my knee, jostling both Zoe and I as he leans forward on the couch beside us. “He’s gonna make thaaat—aw bollocks!”
We all laugh at Marty’s favourite player messes up a perfectly set-up goal.
“Y’sure he’s not getting paid on the side?” I joke.
“You shut your mouth,” he barely spares a glance to me, his eyes glued to the telly. “He’s a genuinely good guy.”
I glance at Zoe and amusement colours her face. I’m about to tell her something about the game when I feel a prick on the back of my neck. I glance around and there she is as real as the last time I saw her, her presence burning into my skin.
Zoe mirrors me, glancing around but clearly YN didn’t draw her in like she did me.
I distract her, tuck her hair behind her ear. If YN was watching I want her to see it all. I undo the clip in Zoe’s hair and it falls around her face. And just like she usually does, she cranes her face towards mine and I kiss her. She’s soft and smells like vanilla and vodka. She was confident and sexy but I’m bottomed out with a hollow feeling.
I fill it by kissing her again, desperate to get rid of it. Or maybe I just needed to get more drunk.
But my eyes betray me, flicking up briefly to YN. Her poker face betrays her with the clench of her jaw. I could hear her voice in my head accusing me of using Zoe, of being a coward. My heart picks up speed but I push it all down and focus on Zoe’s touch.
Maybe I was just feeling guilty because I knew she was going through a tough time personally. But it wasn’t my responsibility. I was a good person for feeling bad. I didn’t actually care about her.
-Your POV-
I only know time is passing because the muffled beats of the songs start and end like clockwork. Otherwise, I stay sitting on the garage steps in the dark. I’ve stopped noticing the dusty oil smell that clings to the air—it's all blended into the dark.
The party was getting too much as soon as I stepped in but I forced myself to stay because of my friends. But then an hour ago I was forced to stand there and watch Harry and his new girl slobber all over each other. I bided my time until my friends stopped watching me like a dog waiting to bolt—not that I could blame them. Because I bolted as soon as they stopped watching.
I wish I could get over it. All of it. Everything felt so heavy all the time.
Grams was moving to be closer to her sister now that she lived alone ever since Grandpa……left.
I couldn’t blame her. Wouldn’t I do the same? I was so selfishly thinking in the short-term when we both knew I’d be out of this damn town in a few months. And, I already booked my ticket to visit her this summer. It was supposed to be fine, right?
But why couldn’t I just move on?
And Harry. Fucking Harry. Why the hell did he get to me? He was taunting me and I was letting him.
But only in the dark here, slightly tipsy, a small part of me admits the hurt. It hurt.
But why? He was just some guy I had a short thing with. I wanted to lose myself to a fun casual fling. He was the type of guy who just liked to have fun, nothing serious. I knew it going in.
But he saw me so vulnerable. And the thing that gets me is how much he actually seemed like he cared that night. How his eyes drank in everything I was feeling and in that it felt like I wasn’t alone.
He surprised me by being sweet—which my rational brain knows is just a honey trap for girls. But it felt so genuine, like he truly was being sweet for me. How could I get over something like that!
Move on. He obviously has.
I let my eyes flick over to my phone, just for a second. I’m tempted to look at the stories from the party, from everyone inside. The party that I’m separated from by a single door—FOMO.
That’s a new low.
I pull my gaze away and try to ignore the impulse.
He had noticed me when I walked in. Even though he looked away I know he saw me because I saw him.
I’d heard he moved on—it’s crazy that this time last week we were in his car together. I was ready to trickle off after that heavy night but not before having a talk with him. It’s not like I was expecting him to be waiting around for me but I also didn’t expect him to be so cruel showing off and being obnoxious right in front of me with this new chick.
"Nah, I got it!" A voice near the door says. My heart skips a beat for a second. The voice—his voice. But it fades as quickly as it came.
I'm about to let out a sigh when the door swings open and a flood of light spills into the garage. It's blinding at first.
“Where the—ahh!” I whip my head up, but of course, I don’t need to see him to know it’s him.
He stands there, wide-eyed, caught off guard for a split second. Then he recovers, straightens his shoulders.
"What the fuck, YN?"
I don’t even answer him. I just turn away, chin on my knees, staring back into the dark.
In my silence he goes down leaving the door open a sliver to let the light in so he can see. I hold my breath when he passes, knowing breathing him in would engulf me in the exact same way it used to.
Not that I was nostalgic for it but I didn't want my brain playing tricks on me when I was a sitting duck here.
I track him as he heads to a small pile in the corner of the confined garage and pulls out a few six-packs. He stacks a couple and comes back my way.
There’s just enough space on the stairs for him to sit beside me without crowding me, and I can feel him hovering. I can feel him deciding whether to stay or leave.
Damnit. The step creaks softly as he chooses to sit, the door still cracked open behind him, casting a slice of light across his face.
I breathe in, catching the familiar scent of him. It floods my senses, sharp and heady like it used to. Shit.
I hate that a part of me wants to tell him to screw whatever game he was playing with me and just meet me upstairs. Somewhere dark and tucked away. But my dignity and the reminder of an unanswered text makes me pretend he didn’t affect me.
I hear the shift of cans in his hands. "Are you sulking out here?"
His voice is casual. Like us. Casual. He’s playing this like we can just go back to being nobody-classmates with each other.
I glare in the dark. "What’s it to you?"
"Didn’t take you for the sulking type," he says, leaning back a little like he’s amused by me.
"Well, that’s reassuring."
"What is?"
"How you don’t know me."
Our eyes meet for a beat, and it feels too much like everything between us again. But then his eyes crinkle with a cocky amusement and it pisses me off. Like he knows how annoying he is right now and it’s entertainment.
He adjusts the beer in his hands, then tilts his head toward the door, like I’m the weird one for not being inside with the rest of the people at the party.
"Why are you out here when the party's in there?"
I don’t answer right away. I can feel my pulse thrumming too loudly in my neck. I feel awashed in shame, hot waves down my neck; he knew exactly why I might be out here when the party’s in there. Is he playing dumb to show me how much he never cared, how unimportant my story was? Or is he trying to get me vulnerable again?
"None of your business," I snap, turning away.
The silence lingers a moment, but then—"s’it because of me?"
I blink. Did he just ask me that? He can’t possibly be that bold. And yet, the question is spoken like a secret.
I feel a sharp rush of irritation flood my chest. How dare he pity me. "Because of you?" I ask. "Do you really think the small blip of time we spent together affected me enough to isolate myself out here just because you brought some new shiny toy to the party? Get over yourself, Harry. I’ve got bigger things going on in my life."
For a moment, his face falls, the amusement fading, but it’s gone in a flash. He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, but the shout of someone inside calls his name. "Hurry up, man!"
I glance at him, his face had hardened into the cocky fuckboy we all know him to be. A complete contrast to the face that watched me that night.
He never existed.
"The eyes don’t lie," he says, leaning in just a little, his usual cocky smirk crawling back into place. "I see the way you’ve been watching me all night, YN. Say what you want to say—"
"Why are you here?” I interrupt. My skin prickles, my pulse quickening. I had something to say but he was making me too angry to say it. My words were for a gentler Harry, not this fucker. “Is it just to bother me because you can leave.”
He pauses, just for a second, his eyes darkening, but then he shrugs and gets up to go. "Well, sorry you’re missing out."
"I’m not missing out," I turn to say, my voice hoarse. "I’m just taking a breather."
But even as I say it, the words feel like a lie.
I stare at him, standing in the doorway. He pauses, half-turning. The smirk’s still there, but it’s thinner, like he’s pushing something down.
"Sad, sad girl," he murmurs, shaking his head, as if he's disappointed in me.
I scramble to get up--to cuss him out, to launch myself at him, I really don't know what; his condescending cocky tone sets something off in me.
But he knows exactly what that would do to me. By the time l've untwisted myself the door is slamming shut behind him and I'm left in the dark.
I swear loudly, the sound echoing off the walls like a threat. My fists clench. "Fuck him," I mutter.
All that responds is the silence and it feels suffocating.
-Harry’s POV-
She’s won’t give me the satisfaction of following me up but I know it gets to her—the way she stiffened when I said she was "missing out." And I know I’m a dick but it’s because for a moment there I almost fucked it all up and asked if she was okay.
I pull a new beer out, pop the cap, and take a long drink.
Your ego’s bruised, you’re trying to be cruel to hurt her.
I drink more.
I liked having fun. It’s part of being young—before I get old and have to settle down and get serious like all the adults in my life. I want to meet all kinds of girls and just have fun. I want to live without looking back with regrets—so no strings attached and no consequences.
Then she had to come along. With that sharp wit and broody eyes. She just approached me at a party like this one one day and by the end of the night we were hooking up.
My parents had been away for the weekend so the only thing to do was invite everyone over. But what started out as inviting my group, their dates, and some other girls led to nearly the entire class in my home.
“Mum’s gonna kill you,” my sister had said before she left the house. “You better clean it all up before she gets back and I’m not helping.”
“Duh,” I say. But it’s overwhelming this many people in my house.
After a few beers the overwhelm shies down to a forgotten thought in the back of my mind. I’m the man of the hour because I was throwing the party. Usually I was just attending them. This was different. Good-different.
Some of the guys are playing video games and I settle with one of the controllers but my loss is so painful I have to leave to get another drink and stay a few feet from any of the controllers.
After fucking around in the den and flirting with a couple girls younger than me I can’t remember the names of, I go back to where the game is being played.
My spot’s been occupied by YN—I’ve been in school with her for years but we’d only spoken a handful of times. We ran in different circles and she didn’t always show up to parties. But tonight she has a controller in her hand and her face is scrunched in concentration. It’s cute.
YN was cute, she was really smart and everyone knew she was going to graduate and do things that made the rest of us say we knew her when…
But in that way she was out of my league. Girls like her never bothered to hook up. They were always studying or in committed relationships. Last I heard she was dating someone in the year above us but they broke up before he graduated.
So that’s why I’m taken aback when she comes in second place and cheers with first. She knocks back her drink in celebration and somehow her eyes find mine.
I raise my brows and lift my beer to her. She grins and her face lights up—she’s really cute. I laugh and she mocks a bow while sitting. I shake my head at her before her attention’s stolen by first place asking her to play again.
My heart is pounding and I can’t stop looking her way. She agrees to playing again and even though I miss the round when I have to find more drinks, by the time I come back she’s just leaning into the couch, arms crossed and drink resting against her. She watches the screen but she glances when I walk back in.
She looks away. Then she looks back.
There’s a challenge in her eyes but I don’t know what she playing at. Girls like her simply didn’t hook up with guys like me so I didn’t want to read the signs wrong. She was probably being friendly and she was drunk.
But the stars must have been misaligned because after making eyes she stands confidently and walks over to me.
Her shoulders are bare in a sweater that wraps around them and when she comes closer it’s in a wave of a sharp clean scent. Her skin looks tantalizing like she’s put something glittery on it and I have to force myself to keep my eyes on her face and listen close above the music and my heart beating in my ears.
“You’re not jealous are you?” She asks.
“Of what?”
“Well I saw you playing earlier and it was…” she bites her lip.
“What?” I shake my head seriously. “You didn’t see that absolute loss happening from me.”
“I didn’t?” She raises her brow. “So that wasn’t you?”
“No! No it wasn’t. I uh, have a twin. Total loser. Didn’t you know?”
“A twin?” She asks with humour in her eyes. And I can’t believe her as she moves closer to me. The magnetism emanates from this new confidence she talks to me with. “What’s his name?”
“Why? Are you interested?” I ask.
“Well,” she blinks. “Clearly he needs some tips from a pro. I thought you could introduce me and I can show him how to win.”
Now she’s inches from me. I’ve done this dance a million times and yet I feel like I’m in unchartered territory. I always had the upper hand but she was catching me off guard. I had to flip this.
“Show him how to win?” I ask. I decide to make the first move, touch her. I take the hair that’s spilled over her shoulder and brush it back. Her eyes flicker down to my lips. “Why would a pretty girl like you waste your time doing that?”
“I’m more than a pretty girl.”
“Yeah I know. You’re smart as shit and a total killer over there.”
“Mhm,” she says. The sound shoots straight into my chest. “So? You won’t even introduce us? Tell me his name?”
“My brother…isn’t really your type.”
My hand slides down her back to her waist. Her hand comes up to my chest, up to my shoulders. I want to kiss her. Bad. Know what she felt like.
“You sound jealous. Won’t even give me his info.”
“Uh well,” do I kiss her—does she know I’m not into serious dating. “He’s…Gary….Styles.”
We lock eyes and then spring apart as laughter spills between us.
“Oh my god,” I choke. “I can’t believe that just-“
“Gary?!” She cries. “Was that-was that the best you could…”
She’s laughing too hard to finish, crouching down to contain herself.
“I was trying to think of a rhyming name!”
“Sure!” She tries to breath through her laugh. “Name him the most unsexiest thing ever!”
I laugh again. “I told you he wasn’t your type!”
That sets her off again and there’s a warm pride filling my chest at making her laugh this hard. Most people found me funny but seeing smart and pretty YN crouching down on my living room floor from laughing so hard, standing and brushing the tears out of her eyes—I could float on this feeling for a while.
“Fine.” She’s still smiling and I’m grinning just being around her. YN was cool—who knew. “Forget Gary.”
I slap my hand over my face and she laughs as she says it.
“C’mon,” she peels my hand off and instead of letting go she places it back on her waist. “You’ll do if he’s not around.”
“I-I’ll do?” I’m once again caught off guard. And if my ego wasn’t so inflated by her attention and laughter I would be fighting for dominance but she takes the lead once more. Like she was cool and confident and she knows what she’s doing.
“Yeah? Have you never hooked up Harry? I thought that’s what you did? Or was that your brother all along?”
“No!” I tug her waist. “That’s definitely me. Gary has no game.”
“Naturally,” she nods. “This is your place right? I’m guessing you have a room?”
She’s bold. Direct about what she wants from me. It’s different.
“I have to sleep in the room under the stairs. Gary has a bedroom upstairs though.”
“So all Harry’s sleep under the stairs then?” She grins. I laugh. She was cool. And funny. And cute, and flirty, and I wanted to kiss her.
“Most of them.” I look at her lips, they’ve got that glossy stuff on them and I imagine they taste like strawberries.
She quiets and leans in and when our eyes meet again I know she's thinking about kissing me too. We’re caught in limbo and when she tips forward it’s all the confirmation I need.
I grab the back of her head and bring our mouths together. She didn’t taste like strawberries. It was minty instead and the coolness prickles my lips as she trails her fingers up my neck.
My hands slide to her waist as we kiss and she moans when I slide my tongue into her mouth. She was so soft, and real. Her hands were on my chest, sliding over the fabric of my shirt. Holy fuck I was kissing YN. The feel of her lips was like a drug and I needed to get my fix.
I wanted to get closer. Know what her skin felt like under my palm. The idea made my heart beat faster. My hands travel there before I could think, my thumbs rubbing circles into her lower back.
“Maybe,” she breaks the kiss. Her eyes as dark as mine and her chest heaves against me. “Not here? We can find that bedroom.”
“Just what I was gonna say,” I can’t take my eyes off her. I don’t care how many people were here I wanted my lips back on her.
“So!?” She tugs me out of my daze and I apologize.
With a hand on the small of her back I guide her upstairs to my bedroom. Nobody’s here just like I told them not to be and by the time I close the door her gaze is flitting around my room.
“You like music?” She asks, pointing to the guitar and CDs in the corner of my room.
“I live and breathe it. Sorry for-“ I point to my clothes laying on my chair and the bed. I toss the ones on the bed onto the chair. I didn’t think I was hooking up with anyone like this tonight, too occupied with cleaning up later.
“You should see mine,” she shakes her head.
“Really? You seem like your room would be perfect.”
“Perfect?” Something flits across her face. “No. Definitely not. ”These days my room looks like a storm’s swept through.”
I walk back to her and brush her hair back again. Here, away from everyone else, she’s a little less bold. She’s softer. That overwhelming need to kiss her is still there but it’s enveloped by a need to hold her too. To savour her.
“My mum always says your room’s a reflection of your mind.” I say. “She’s always disappointed in mine.”
She lets out a short laugh. “Ha! That must be true.”
The look on her face again. I want to ask but I sense she doesn’t want to be asked. She looks behind us to my music instead.
“Yours must have a lot of music in it.”
“Yeah. Every moment.” I go with the change in subject. It wasn’t my business.
“Even this one?”
“Mhm,” I hum. I pull her in from her waist and press a kiss to her throat. I whisper against her skin, “Even this ones.”
Her body shudders and her voice is barely audible when she asks, “And what’s playing?”
I smile against her.
"You.” I tell her. “Your breath, your laugh, your heartbeat. It's a tune unique to you. Your song.”
“You’re good,” she laughs quietly before tilting her head towards me and our lips find each other again. This time we're alone and I don't feel bad for exploring. She was the most beautiful and surprising person I'd met and I didn’t want her to slip through my fingers.
She makes quick work of her sweater, pulling it over her head. It takes my breath away.
"Y’okay?" she asks.
I don’t know what to tell her with all the feelings rushing through me pumping with every racing heartbeat. So I go with, "You're beautiful."
Her face softens, I want her even more.
Her hands cup my face and I lean into her touch as she kisses me again. I let her have control for a bit, but her control is measured and soft and exploring. It feels careful.
She begins to take my shirt off and I do the rest, tossing it to the side. I nudge her gently towards the bed and she scoots up, taking down her hair. I never in a million years thought I would have her in my bed. That I would get to see this side of her. I feel lucky in a way. Luckier than anyone downstairs.
"So goddamn perfect," I say again. I climb onto the bed and kiss her lips. I work my way to her neck. It's the best thing I've had in a while. I reach her shoulder and suck at the skin there, the sound that escapes her lips is intoxicating. I want to hear it again.
I reach her collarbone, trailing wet kisses; she’s so much more perfect than I'd imagined. As we move and explore each other, she feels amazing but I pause when she slows down.
"What?" she asks.
"Are you…it’s just...you’re…" her eyes flash and I can tell she’s embarrassed that I’m pointing it out.
"I'm sorry," she blinks a bunch. “It’s sorta been a while?”
“That’s okay. That’s alright. We can take it slow.”
She nods and doesn’t speak.
“Is this okay? What do you want?"
"I want you." She's staring up at me and I see the want clear as day. “Not slow.”
The words go straight to my core."Then you have me."
Her hand trails down as I kiss her and it’s tentative as it reaches lower and lower. Warmth cascades down my body and I feel like I’m in a dream.
“You’re amazing YN,” I tell her. “You feel amazing.”
I tilt her head back for the taste of her, bite the skin of her shoulder. Her sounds alone drive me crazy. But I’m priming her, making sure she’d ready. When she buckles her hips into mine I tug at the elastic of her panties.
"Is this okay?"
She nods.
"Say it."
"Yes," she breathes. “God, you’re bossy. S’okay.”
I pull the dainty fabric off with a smile and throw them to the floor. She nods when I look at her, her eyes are hooded and dark . “Protection?"
"I have some." I lean over and dig through my nightstand. When I sit back she’s quiet but I’m focused with the task at hand so she catches my by surprise with her question.
“H-how many girls do you hook up with?"
I look up at her and she's watching me with those dark broody eyes. They're so wide and so deep and I’m drowning.
"Some."
"That's…not an answer."
"It is. You’re not getting posessive are you? We’re still haven’t finished getting to know each other.”
She flushes furiously.
"So a lot then," she continues.
I laugh. "Do you usually do this? Is this some sort of foreplay?"
"I-i just-I want to be sure you’re-“
“I’m clean.” I promise her when I realize why she’s asking. Idiot Harry. “Plus we’re using protection.”
“Okay.” She nods. “Okay. Good. Now come back here.”
She gasps when I sink into her and I can't help the curse that escapes.
She responds with her own impatient expletives. There’s a desperation in her voice that sets me off as her nails dig into me, like she wanted to lose herself here.
She’s present as we flow in my bed but I know when I’ve lost her, as her grip loosens and her eyelids flutter shut.
We collapse onto the bed, chests rising and falling as we finished one after the other. Her hair is splayed out on my pillow, her head resting on my arm and she looks angelic. I kiss her neck slowly, peppering kisses onto her shoulder, stroking her back. Slowly bringing her back. Gently.
"Harry,” she says my name. Breathes it. It makes my stomach drop. Something about her was stirring something within me and it was exhilarating but scary. I splay my hand on her abdomen and bend to kiss her, she’s more pliable than before, clearly spent.
"Stay here," I whisper. It’s the wrong thing to say but I don’t care about the party anymore. I just want to stay here and continue exploring this perfect woman here. Before she goes back to being the YN I knew from school. The one who I previously thought would never crawl into my bed willingly.
She blinks. "But the party-“
“Party’s fine without us for a bit.”
She smiles. "Okay. Fine."
I hold her against my chest and we stay like that. Neither of us speaking. Yet I can tell there's something on her mind. Has been most of the time we were together.
I almost ask if she wants to talk but remember she wasn’t my girlfriend, my anything. She was here to hook up not spill her feelings. I didn’t do feelings—I wasn’t anyone’s boyfriend for a reason.
Her fingers trace shapes into my chest and it feels nice. The softness is new so is the cuddling—if I stayed in bed like this with a girl it was usually to gear up for round two. But this is different, we’re simply just catching our breath and existing in this space together.
"I think I should go," she whispers, sitting up after a while.
"What?"
"Your party, won’t they notice you’re missing."
"And?”
“You should get back. Can I use your bathroom?"
"Yeah," I sit up, I didn’t think I could convince her to stay. “Through there."
She nods and walks away with a few of her items. When the door closes, I can hear her sniffling. I want to go in but it would feel like an invasion of her privacy and our boundaries. I lay back and wait.
When she comes out, her hair is brushed and her makeup is fixed. She looks like she did when she came into the party. Except she’s only got a bra on.
“You missed a spot.” I tease. She blushes, self-conscious and so different to before.
“I did,” she plays it off. “D’you see my top?”
I spot it on the floor beside me and pick it up. She waits for me to get to her and reaches for it but I hold it tight.
“Are you holding my sweater hostage now?” She asks.
“No,” I don’t know what comes over me but I scrunch it and hold it over her head. She blushes again as I pull it over which isn’t very hard with how wide the neckhole is. It drapes back down below her shoulders. I usually undressed girls, I think this was the first time I helped one get dressed.
“You’re sweeter than you look.” She says once her arms are through.
“This is just so I can undress you again,” I tease.
I kiss her sweet and slow and it takes her by surprise. She leans back a bit but then meets me again, melting into me.
“We should get you a drink.” I tell her. She needed to relax more. She was suddenly tense after what we did.
“Ok. Yeah. A drink sounds nice.”
And so I spent the rest of the night with her, and she stayed tucked beside me with a quiet strength and a whisper of a smile the whole time.
Now she’s wriggled through every fucking belief I had and got too deep into my head. I can’t stop thinking about her. About the last time we were together. About how different she was. How the girl I saw in school and the girl she was in the dark with me were like night and day.
I want her and I hate that I do.
“Where’d you go?” Zoe asks, her voice tugging me back into the moment. Her fingers brush against my arm as I zone out.
“Huh?”
“The garage isn’t that big,” she says, eyebrows raised, clearly confused by my distance.
I offer a quick grin, leaning in a little too close. “No, but you know what is?”
It’s enough to get her laughing, pulling me closer. It works—just like it always does. But even as her hands trail down my chest, I’m somewhere else.
Zoe pulls me back into the present, tugging me to the dining room packed with friends now that beer pong is over. She sits on my lap, head resting on my shoulder as one of my friends tells some story about a haunted house down the street and we’ve all drunk enough to listen aptly.
Even in the middle of this, I find my eyes drifting across the room. YN, back from her garage break. She’s talking to somebody, a friend. Her friend touches her shoulder, tucks her hair behind her ear. I remember doing that too.
My stomach sinks as I remember the way her hair felt in my hands, how I could pull it into a knot, bury my face in the warmth of her neck. Her scent was sharp and clean, like fresh laundry and something else—an addictive kind of feminine softness that I couldn’t put into words but got into my bones.
Her gaze shifts, and I catch her eyes. It’s like a punch to the chest. I can’t look away. Not now, not when I see the flicker of something in her expression—something that was there that last night together in the car.
I found out later her grandfather passed a few weeks before. He had been sick for a while and she’d practically been raised by her grandparents so she’d been so broken after it; I told myself I wasn’t going to get too involved, that it wasn’t my job to fix her, but of course I couldn’t help it. Not when her eyes grew teary and doe-like. That night I did things I swore I never would. I comforted her feelings and held her, I let my guard down.
But then I ran once I realized I was in too deep, once I felt her pulling away. I left her alone with her grief.
I feel self-loathing creeping in, sharp and insistent. What the hell am I doing? I can’t shake this feeling, this pull toward YN, it’s not supposed to be this way.
It’s her fault. I keep telling myself that, over and over, like a mantra. If she really wanted something with me, she wouldn’t have stopped replying to my texts the day after.
And when I was down there in the garage with her, it was just us. There was no one else. It was a test—she could’ve been honest. But she wasn’t. She chose to shut me out. So now I have to be cruel. I have to push aside all this stupid, complicated shit in my head and make sure she knows I’m not going to chase her down.
I shove the thoughts of YN aside, convincing myself it’s not a big deal and tighten my arm around Zoe. I tune back into the story being swapped,the groups laugh about all the pranks and fights the schools have gotten into.
They pull me in, accusing me of skipping out on the last prank.
I laugh. "Nah, mate, you should’ve seriously seen it! Last time I went down there, I almost got my ass kicked!"
"Don’t tell me you were actually scared Styles?" one of the guys pipes in.
"Scared? Nah. I call it being smart," I say, but the words come out louder, more exaggerated than I mean. I can feel YN’s eyes on me from across the room. I want her to see me having fun, see me living my life like I don’t give a shit. I want her to think this could have been her.
A small part of me knows I’m being shitty but the drunk part of me shuts it up.
I take another swig, making a point of not looking over at her, even though I can feel the weight of her gaze on the back of my neck. But my eyes betray me when she walks out of the room altogether.
-Your POV-
We make eyes from across the room. The look is so intense, it feels like he’s reaching across the space between us, pulling me in like gravity.
Why the fuck are you still looking at him, I think.
I turn back to my best friend, trying to focus on anything other than him.
“…you should spend as much time as you can with her before she moves,” she continues what she was saying. “Be mad later.”
"I’m trying to be mad later," I insist. “I’m trying to savor the time now, but…” I let out a frustrated sigh. "When I’m not there—like tonight, I’m thinking about how I’m not with her. And when I’m with her, I’m just mad and want to get away.”
“That’s so fucking complicated,” she says, staring at me like she can’t quite make sense of my mess either.
I want to explain, really I do, but it’s too much. And right now all I can hear is Harry’s laugh cutting through the noise of the room. It feels like nails on a chalkboard. But then, a beat later, I can’t stop myself from looking.
And there he is, tugging at some girl with that stupid cocky grin of his. Josie or Zoey or something, I don’t even know her name, pretty sure she was younger than us, but she was in poster club with me and even though we didn’t really talk she was cool. Part of me feels bad for her, wants to warn her.
But I wasn’t over it enough, I wasn’t that evolved as hard as I wished I was. And it didn’t matter, because it’s not about her. It’s about me. The way his hands are so familiar as they slip through her hair, and my stomach turns at the memory of how we did that once or twice.
I don’t even know what I want from him at this point.
“He’s such a dick,” my friend says, clearly reading me like a book. “He’s obviously doing that to make you jealous.”
“No, he’s not," I snap, but my voice cracks just slightly. "He doesn’t care. He’s just a player."
“Then why else would he be so damn obnoxious?” she presses, but I don’t have an answer.
At first I was hurt and confused when he straight up ghosted me when I tried to communicate with him after. Then it made me angry. And now seeing him with her—I knew who he was as a player, I didn’t expect anything different. But that night he was so different. And the callous way he’s being tonight makes my heart chip a little.
“He’s just like that,” I reply stiffly. “That’s Harry. I don’t know what I saw in that.”
She shrugs. “He was just some fun for you. You deserved to have some fun after everything at home—sorry.”
“It’s true,” I murmur, rubbing my thumb along the rim of my cup.
She didn’t have to apologize. I had been looking for a distraction, looking for something to take me away from the heaviness at home. Grandpa’s sickness. The waiting. The slow, aching loss of him. The aftermath.
“Anyway,” she continues, shaking her head at Harry’s antics across the room, “he’s usually loud, but not like this. He’s putting on a show. Dickhead. It’s his loss for ghosting you.”
I nod, but it feels hollow. Because, in a way, I ghosted him first. After that night, when he was too kind and I didn’t know how to handle it, I shut down. I avoided him the next day. But when I wanted to talk he avoided me right back. I thought he just wanted space but a few days later I see him flirting with her. He’d just ignored me and moved on.
“Guys like him end up fat or bald by the time they’re thirty,” she jokes, dragging me out of my head. “He’s just another dude—don’t waste any more time on him. Let’s go somewhere else.”
I let her pull me away, though it takes everything in me not to glance back. But as we pass, I feel his eyes on me. I know, because I feel the heat of them burning through my skin, even without turning around. I fight the urge to look. Fuck him, I think, holding my head high as we walk towards another part of the house.
-Harry’s POV-
...What the hell am I doing?
The thought has been a constant echo in my for the last week no matter how much I distract it or smother it with alcohol. I feel like I’m being haunted.
All week I see YN in the regular spots at school but it’s always a reminder of not only our time together and how different things felt with her, but also how she was going through a hard time. How I was being cruel.
Jeez is this what it was to be sensitive. I fucking hated it.
It’s after school and I’m late to leave, walking down a mostly empty hallway. And of course I catch a glimpse of her in the computer room. Probably working on yearbook or whatever other club she was in.
That’s part of why it was so surprising when she approached me that night. When she willingly became a notch in my bedpost. It only took a couple weeks to find out she had been looking for a distraction. Usually that was my forte.
I linger, my heart wanting me to go in but my head screaming at me to go. I finally choose head and start walking away. But my squeaking shoe catches her attention and she looks up.
We have an awkward stare off. She swallows and looks away.
“Do you need something?”
I don’t expect her to ask.
I walk forward and lean against the doorframe. She can pretend she’s over it all she wants, but her cheeks are pink.
"I was just helping coach with something. I saw you and…"
I don’t mean for it to come out. God why did she have to make me feel awkward. I was never awkward. I didn’t feel awkward.
“Are you doing your nerdy shit?” I try to switch gears, slip into cocky jock but she’s too real. She doesn’t let me.
“Seriously? Are you trying to make casual conversation with me again?”
“Why not?”
“Why not.” She scoffs.
“No seriously YN why the fuck not?” I demand. None of the other girls I hooked up with did this! Once we were over they either treated me like it never happened and continued being friendly, or they just moved on themselves to someone else. None of them looked at me the way she did. Bit at me like she.
You also didn’t want them like you did her.
“You’re really playing the stupid angle. Or maybe it’s not playing.” She mumbles the last part but I still catch it.
I move a few steps into the room.
She sighs. “I don’t want this cocky…jocky Harry okay?”
“Okay.” I put my hands up; I also couldn’t give her the Harry from that night if that’s what she wanted. But I let my defences down a little. “Why can’t I make conversation with you?”
“I’m pretty sure there’s an unanswered text in your phone from weeks ago? Asking to talk?”
I don’t respond. Of course there was.
She gets fed up when I don’t reply, “So if you want to talk then I’m okay to talk about that. Otherwise I’m not interested.”
“You want to talk about that?!” I go for the humiliating angle and hate myself for it. “We weren’t a couple you know that right? We were just sleeping together and then we weren’t. There’s no us to talk about.”
Her eyes are rimmed red when she looks at me, anger burning in her eyes. A part of me acknowledges the hurt.
“I. Know.” She says slowly. “I’m the one that approached you to hook up. I know we weren’t dating or something. But I dumped a bunch of baggage on you when I didn’t mean to. A-all I wanted to do was apologize like a decent person. But you’re obviously too much of a dick to understand that. You thought I was like, hung up over you and your new fling!?”
I’m dumbstruck. My pride is shot to space. She wanted to apologize? For opening up? I was a dick.
I can hear voices coming down the hall. I don’t want anyone to hear this, to tarnish my image with whatever softness was here. I push the door closed and walk to where she sits, perching on the chair next to her.
"What are you doing?" she snaps, glaring at me.
"You wanted to talk" I shoot back.
“Don’t insult me and act like you care what else I have to say Harry. I’m sure you can find some other girl around this late if you’re killing time or something.”
“I want to listen.”
“No you don’t. I got that hint pretty clearly when you ghosted me.”
"I was ghosted first," I retort, like a petulant child.
"I had a good reas—actually that wasn’t even ghosting I was just taking some space to-" her words are clipped. "I wanted to collect myself before I spoke to you. Make sure I was in the right headspace. You on the other hand had no reason to cut me off."
"Cut you off?” I challenge.
"What's your excuse?" she rolls her eyes.
"I wasn’t ghosting you I-it-it's just wasn’t that deep," I say, trying to sound casual. Way to go you stuttering idiot.
She stares at me, a million emotions flickering on her face. I can almost hear her say it that night was deep to me. Or maybe it’s my own voice saying it.
But then her face blanks, like she’s given up.
"Well, whatever. I'm sorry," she replies even though I expect her to continue arguing with me.
I stare; her hair was pulled away from her face today into a half bun thing and her lips are glossed. I know what they taste like and that thought makes my stomach dip and lose focus.
She must think I’m confused because she sighs, “for dumping my baggage on you and for making you uncomfortable? M’sorry for asking you to handle me with care when we were just hooking up. I don’t-“
“Stop.” I can’t handle it anymore. “That’s enough already.”
How was she still somehow decent. Why did she make me feel like I wanted to protect her, tuck her away and save her. It scared me. I never felt this way—girls were just fun.
"I'm not mad," I say, the words tumbling out of me. "I just didn't know how to respond, okay?"
"That's why people say things," she snaps, exasperated. "Discuss things so you can sort out what to say.”
“Look,” I snap. “You’re obviously the most…I don’t fucking know. I don’t normally do this. You’re the most serious or…mature person I’ve ever…hooked up with? Nobody…I don’t know what I’m doing ok? I’m out of my fucking depth here.”
“And I know.” She emphasizes. “That’s why I said I was sorry!”
“No! Not like that I’m not trying to make you feel bad-“
We quiet as a group of people walk past the door, in the silence I realize how loud we’d gotten. She must too.
She leans forward, her tone serious. "Do you actually want to talk about it?"
I swallow, trying to collect myself. Trying not to get lost in her eyes. Trying to ignore the tugging in my stomach, the desire to touch her.
“Obviously not. But I’m trying to not be a dick or whatever.”
"Can we start with the text first?" She crosses her arms.
"Ok," I sigh, dragging my hands down my face. "I'm sorry for ignoring you. It's just easier for me if I'm an asshole.”
It’s easier to apologize now that she has. Easier to want to be decent and not cruel. For a second I glimpse us reconciling, her allowing me to touch her with a tenderness I’ve never felt before.
So I backtrack. I couldn’t do this open honest shite. I had to wrap it up tell her I couldn’t do feelings. This wasn’t me. I wasn’t me around her.
“I didn’t mind that you wanted someone to talk to. Like it was a lot but…I don’t do that sort of thing. I’m used to hooking up and no messy feelings okay? And you didn’t text me back the next day so I moved on. But didn’t realize you wanted to apologize.”
“Okay…”
“No hard feelings seeing me with other people though—like, I’m chill if you wanted to hang out some time but-
“That’s alright.” Her jaw clenches, I get the sense that I’m saying all the wrong things. And yet I feel so desperate and clingy inside.
“Not that-I get why you were uhm…” I freeze. I’ve never had a reaction like this—I’m just frozen.
She studies me and I try not to squirm. I’m afraid of what the results of her study show her.
“Right.”
We sit in an awkward silence until I can find my voice. “It was a lot. And I wanted to ignore it.”
“Yeah. Yep. I got that. Thanks.”
She was done. I wrack my brain. She was just apologizing and now she’s trying to end the conversation.
“Is that it?” I ask when her eyes flick back to her screen, now a screensaver.
“I guess so.” She says. And I’m stumbling over my thoughts to think of something else to say. All this time she really was just mad that I didn’t reply? She just wanted to apologize and go back like nothing ever happened. All those biting words and hurtful glares weren’t because I was with another girl?
Was I imagining all that fucking chemistry?
“You got…it out of your system?”
“Yeah!?” She glances at me. “I’m fine. I know what I know—I’m just a girl and you’re just another dude right? I got to say what I wanted. Two ships passing in the night and all that.”
“Yeah. Oh yeah okay. Alright.”
I’m dumbstruck yet again as my feet move me away from her. Out of the classroom. I stand there for a few just thinking of this feeling. Of tables turned.
She didn’t actually like me like…more?
The questions carry me home. My sister takes one look at me and laughs.
“Girl problems?”
“No.” I bite.
“Really? Because this looks like girl problems. L-o-v-e problems.”
“Shut up.” I want her to stop poking at the soft place.
“Fine,” she shrugs.
“I’m fine.”
“Hmph,” she eyes me. “I can say it’s nice to see you getting a taste of your medicine Har. Girls aren’t just playthings.”
I ignore her and she heads to her room, calling out “Pass me her details later I’m gonna write her a thank you card.”
…a taste of your own medicine. Girl’s aren’t just playthings.
“Hey I don’t think-“ I try to argue but she’s already in her room, door closed.
I didn’t think girls were playthings. But the girls I hooked up with we just had fun. They knew it.
What if some of them walked away from it like you are now, a voice in my head whispers. I want to shut it up. Shut it out.
I grab my phone, hit up Zoe and when she says she’s busy I find someone else in my phone. I needed to get this feeling out of my system.
But still, when I crawl into bed at 2 in the morning after being out all night, I’m wide awake thinking about her so hard I swear I see her in the brushstrokes of my ceiling.
All along I had just been punishing myself; that was the only prize I had to show for all this.
It all comes crashing down on me. I feel like a part of me was hollowed out, thinking I was fine but it was coming from a coffin. Because everything my sister said, everything YN said—every single thing was all so true.
A/N: reaaaallly tried to get this out for v-day. It’s been a while, I’m a bit rusty, but this is a quick fic w Harry and you as coworkers and a casual something else. Hope you enjoy 🫶🏼
—————————————————————-
“Well this is different,” I comment.
Before me sits a dozen children and they’re all very quiet. It’s music to my ears after the last hour.
“I didn’t know kids could even do yoga.”
“You didn’t know kids could stretch?” I raise a brow.
“The meditating part,” Harry clarifies. “I didn’t know they could quiet their minds and their demon mouths.”
I laugh softly and turn back to the kids. A couple are starting to get restless, peeking one eye open or scratching their noses—picking them more like. But it’s nice for the few minutes.
Both Harry and I worked at an art museum that had recently lost some of its funding and had decided to open up revenue streams by introducing “kids fun weekends”. So despite having zero training in early education, staff at the museum found ourselves having to look after children and host workshops from time to time.
So far we’d been volun-told to help with a crafts day, a movie night, wellness day, and an upcoming museum sleepover.
And I was so not being paid enough to deal with hyperactive children.
“Why do kids even need a wellness workshop?” Harry continues to whisper back to me. “They’ve got stressful jobs or something? Bloody put me on one and let me go home.”
“Anyone can experience stress Har,” I roll my eyes. Harry was one of those people who didn’t care about being politically correct when he spoke. Which led to a lot of bickering between us that most of our coworkers had gotten used to.
“The stress of any of these kids does not bloody compare to the stress of an adult.”
“Don’t be such an ageist,” I reply.
“Ageist? What the fuck,” he swears. “Do you just put a word in front of -ist and create a new prejudice?”
I gasp and hold his shoulder, “prejudice? Where did you learn such a large word?”
“Now you’re just being a word-ist,” Harry says smugly.
I snort despite myself, “And you’ve always been a prick.”
“Piss off,” Harry whispers. “This is unfair.”
We stand in silence, forced to do our job of keeping watch over the kids. But as they grow more agitated and so does Harry, I realize I really didn’t want to be here either.
“Well have you seen the new fake-Monet collection?” I ask.
It wasn’t actually fake-Monet. It was a local artist we were hosting in our community gallery that showcased…local artists. The first piece we ever saw hung up looked like a Monet so we took to calling him that.
“No. Not after that first forgery.”
“Wanna ditch this and check it out?”
“Fuck yes.” Harry’s eyes finally draw some life to them.
We leave our two other coworkers to deal with freshly-meditated children and sneak away.
The art museum wasn’t a large building; the ground floor was taken up by the open lobby, offices, the gift shop, and some of the more permanent exhibits. The second floor had revolving galleries and the community gallery sat on the third floor.
“D’you think anyone’s actually going to buy the guy’s fakes?” Harry asks.
“Probably,” I jam the button for the lift. “I saw a couple more pieces and they were beautiful.”
“You find any piece of art beautiful.”
“Well they are! It’s easy to find beauty in a lot of things if you’re not a prick.”
The lift arrives and the doors open; the reflection inside show a tall curly-haired annoyed bloke. Walking in with him is a shorter girl, rolling her eyes.
“I’m not a prick.” He looks down at me. “I just have standards.”
Suddenly in the enclosed space of the lift we’re gravitating towards each other like we tended to do. I smile up at him sweetly and he tsks and pushes me away by my chin; a conversation taking place with just our eyes.
The thing with Harry and me—because it was just a thing we didn’t label, was simple: we liked being around each other (despite being able to get on each other’s nerves).
We kinda just orbited each other and we were comfortable with it; some days he would follow me home and we’d hang out, get dinner, sleep together, and other nights I’d show up at his and we’d fold right into one another.
It was fun, and it felt cool not to label it. It felt very adult, like Harry and I were mature enough to appreciate the other in every aspect without being possessive enough to need to label it. Like somehow we were proving just how secure we were by doing it like this.
“You just like being judgemental,” I say and as the doors open onto the third floor I turn to walk out. “Because you’re an idiot.”
Outside stand at older couple who’ve definitely heard the last bit. I apologize and pray they don’t complain to anyone about the staff.
“Very unprofessional,” Harry goads as he laughs. “Do you harass all the elderly at the museum.”
“Shut up!” I shove him against the wall and he stumbles down.
“Oi!” He calls out as I walk away. “Oi! Help me up!”
“Help yourself!” I finally turn. He’s sprawled on the ground like this was his bedroom—because I’d seen the inside of his bedroom I would know. But he stays for so long I hurry back, not wanting anyone to walk past and get us in trouble for laying in the middle of the hall.
“I knew you’d come,” he smiles sweetly, his large hand in the air ready for me to grip.
“C’mon—“
I see it coming too late and he’s already trapped me in. He pulls me forward and I stumble into him, nearly catching myself on the wall. Nearly. I tumble into him instead.
“Grow up!” I scramble off of him as quick as I could. Because the one unspoken rule in this thing between us was staying nothing but platonic coworkers at work.
And that was the other thing about us—this unlabelled situation we were in. That as casual as we appeared there was a lot of orchestrating going on behind the scenes in order to be this nonchalant.
For example, only touching outside of work, not asking about dates the other went out on the weekend before, like saying you’re funny and where’ve you been when it’s been a while so as not to say I really like you and I want to be around you more and when you’re not around I miss you more than an unlabelled half should. Like getting drunk when I spot him at a club with another girl so I can continue to convince myself I really didn’t care all that much.
It was just Harry. At most we were just friends.
“This is me grown up,” Harry catches up to me. He can sense I’m annoyed and maybe he’s crossed a line so he lingers slightly behind.
I ignore him as I push the glass door into the gallery. This was one of my favourite spaces because of the large windows and views of the garden below planted by friends of the museum.
But mostly I loved it because it was a revolving door of local artists and it reminded me that everyone had a story to tell. And every story was beautiful.
“Don’t cry this time,” Harry whispers to me as he walks down the gallery to the far end.
“It was one time,” I mumble. That I actually cried. Usually I just teared up.
I couldn’t help it though, there was so much meaning and time put into these pieces. So much love and grief and every emotions on the spectrum. And I felt it all.
I decide I’d stop calling the artist fake-Monet because with a few more paintings I began to recognize his own signature style. He paints about personal community and finding it in public spaces—pockets around London.
“Hey look at this one,” Harry says when I’m a few pieces away. I walk over.
It’s unmistakably Hampstead Heath, the park a half hour walk from here and 15 from Harry’s place. It’s where we spent a lazy summer day a month or so ago. We were both free on the Saturday, our calendars opening up. I met Harry at his and we’d trekked through the hazy city to feel the cool breeze of the sturdy trees and the splash of the water. Despite the stickiness, we’d tucked into each other and pretended the shade was enough to keep us cool—enough to be so close. We read our book, took a summer nap, ate our picnic, and chatted about the rest of our lives. Passerbys would see two friends, or maybe two something-mores.
It’s only when the sun slinked down towards the horizon did we pack up. We walked back to his flat, took a shower together. We had dinner with his friends. It had been such a beautiful day I had ached with it because I knew how temporary it was.
But how perfect it had been. It had felt bigger than us.
Harry pointing it out toes that line again; he remembered it too, as something to reference. As something to compare to the beautiful richness of the tapestry before us—lavenders and lilacs, pinks and blues, sage, and dusty hues.
“Beautiful,” I murmur. We’re standing shoulder to shoulder now, I can’t tell who’s leaning on who.
“It…actually is.” Harry says in a hushed voice back. “I’m sorry fake-Monet that I doubted you.”
I look up at him in surprise, Harry rarely changed his mind. “Actually?”
“Yeah.” He looks down at me. “I think I get it.”
The expression in his eyes as he says this, as they fill with meaning, I have to look away. But the painting doesn’t help. It’s too full of my own meaning. Our meaning.
But there was no our.
“Wow.” I straighten up and move closer. “Look at that blending. And the details those are actually people.”
“They’ve all got their own shadow too.” Harry moves closer towards me again. He points it out.
“I’m gonna go look for shadows in the others.” I chirp just so I can get away. So I can keep denying.
A few hours later, the day is giving to nightfall. I badge out with Harry and we walk down the steps towards the iron gates.
“See you tomorrow?” I ask.
“I’m not in tomorrow.” He reminds me.
“Oh yeah your parents are in town?”
“Yep,” he fidgets with his phone and we stand in silence for a beat.
“Well I should-“ I say just as he asks, “Would you want to-“
We pause, awkward laugh. We were never awkward.
“You first,” I urge, wanting to know what he was going to ask.
“No it’s nothing. I should go. Got to clean my flat before my parents see how I live.”
“Don’t forget to hide the rolling papers from your bedside,” I tease. “And the magazines under the bed.”
“Oi I haven’t got magazines under the bed,” he smiles. His dimples make a handsome appearance. “They’re loud and proud on the coffee table now.”
“Except you haven’t got a coffee table.”
“If you know so much about my flat how about you come home with me and help me clean it? You can stay over.”
Come home with me. Casual, so casual.
But I know how calculated it had to be. I’d been there. Somehow I knew this is what he’d been trying to ask in the first place.
“What time are your parents getting in?” I ask.
“They’re early birds. Probably after 8.”
“8? Holy hell.” I swear.
“They want to do breakfast and then take me to visit my grandparents.”
“Right. Yeah well, imagine I’m still not out by the time they show up. That’d be so awkward. And there’s no way in hell I’m getting up before 8.”
His cheeks take on a slight blush. “They’ve…it wouldn’t be the first time they came over to a girl in my bed YN. I’m not 16.”
“I know. But…still awkward.”
“So?”
“I…don’t want them to get the wrong idea. We’ll see each other the day after. You’re working then right?”
My heart squeezes a bit at his crushed look before it’s swapped for happy, for easygoing. “Yep. Can’t get rid of me that quick.”
We part ways, I go mine with a heavy heart.
***
“So,” I check in with Harry at lunch the day he’s back. It had been a hectic day yesterday with a new group of kids and a new workshop to facilitate. Plus someone was quitting after being yelled at and Harry had missed it all so I wanted to update him. “How was your day off.”
“Shite,” he says. We walk a few streets over to a Pret. “Mum and dad wouldn’t stop whinging about my future and about settling down like I’m a fucking balding man in my 50s losing all prospects. I’m only 25!”
“Yeah total bummer having a day off for that,” I comment even though I have a hard time getting my next breath in. I can’t imagine my own parents caring that much about my life to spend a whole day with me talking about it. And what if I had stayed the night and accidentally bumped into them—would they have approved?
Should I even care?
“Then my nan basically told them to piss off but they started filling her head with it and then she’s asking me about any girls I’ve taken on dates lately. Started giving me relationship advice!”
“What was that?” I tease. “Take her on a walk and buy her some flowers? Go star gazing? Movie for 2 quid?”
Harry glances at me and his seriousness throws me off balance a little.
“What?”
He opens his mouth, then shrugs and closes it. “Nothing.”
“Sorry did I offend you?” I try to think of why he might be reacting this way.
“No, she actually did say some pretty old-fashioned shite. But I can take it from her. It’s my parents that drive me nuts.”
“Well I wish you were at work. Want to hear what happened?”
So I change the subject and we talk about what he missed. He’s more subdued today and I don’t read into it. He wasn’t mine to read into, I have to remind myself.
We talk about the gallery sleepover in two weeks, whether we were actually going to come in our PJs. When we get back to work we’re on different floors and I try not to miss him again.
***
“I actually brought mine—the appropriate pair.” My coworker jokes. We’re in the staff kitchen making an afternoon tea. Tonight was the gallery sleepover and I was not looking forward to it. But because I was working it I had the day off tomorrow and at least that was something to look forward to.
“I just brought a ratty tee. I don’t think I’m sleeping anyway.” I say.
“I hate that we got picked for this,” she continues. “I actually don’t even like kids. Why do you think I have none?”
“Well tonight will just be birth-control.”
“Trust me I don’t need it.” She cackles and walks away. My phone buzzes with a text.
Harry: Might be late tonight. cover for me if anyone asks?
Y: ur not even working the day how are u gonna be late?
Harry: got a thing. Just cover pls?
Y: obv
I wonder what was going on with him.
We hadn’t had a lot of opportunities to hang out the last week and work had been too busy to properly catch up. Plus our manager had been putting us on conflicting projects so I really had been missing Harry.
Even though Harry and I were friends there was something about distance and fondness that was proving true lately. And I hated it. So I’d gone on a string of dates this week. Hence my busyness.
I’d gone out on a date a week ago and even though I ended up going back to his place all I wanted to do was text Harry. Ask him if he was up, what he was doing. I’d forced myself to shut my phone so I wouldn’t be tempted.
After we close the doors to the public that evening we begin setting up for the kids’ sleepover. It’s so hectic nobody notices Harry’s late but he slides right in helping me string the lights in our biggest gallery. We work on the projectors next, I yap to him for 10 minutes straight and he barely replies. He’d been quiet since he got here.
And for the next few hours Harry and I entertain and help children have fun, we put on a fancy puppet show loosely based on famous artists—art projections included.
We sneak away to the kitchen after we take our bow for a tea break.
“Wouldn’t happen to have a flask on ya?” Harry sighs as he strains his tea bag.
“God I wish,” I stare into the dark abyss of my earl gray. That performance had really taken it out of me. “Who d’you think’s most likely to have something stashed away?”
“Well,” Harry yawns like he hadn’t slept all week and points to an upper cabinet. “Behind the cleaning stuff.”
“What?!” I gasp. “Seriously?”
“Well last time I saw it was last Christmas. Probably got some alcoholics here. I dunno if the stash is still there.”
“Well this is naughty,” I find a couple travel-sized liquor bottles like the kind you get on planes. I take one so that somebody else can have the delight of the other.
Harry sticks his mug out and I empty half the bottle, doing the same to mine.
“Make sure it’s covered,” he advises when I throw it in the bin. I shake it around until I can’t see it.
“Much better,” I cheers my mug to his. He catches my eye and it feels like we’re co-conspirators again. I pass a smile that’s only half-returned. “So what’s the deal with you?”
“Hm?” He doesn’t look up from his drink.
“I’ve barely seen you all week. And you’re late tonight. And you look haggard as hell.”
He shrugs, “I’ve been helping one of my mates out with moving out of his girlfriend’s. They broke up. He’s a mess so…”
“Oh.” I wasn’t expecting that. “That’s kind of you.”
“You sound surprised.”
“Do I?” I widen my eyes.
“Piss off.”
He cracks with a smile—a full Harry smile and I feel my heart beaming just to soak it in.
“Are you doing anything tomorrow?” I ask tentatively. I knew he had the day off too.
“Uhm,” cagey Harry returns. “Maybe. I’m not too sure right now.”
“Ah okay.”
We sip in silence that threatens to smother us. I get up as quickly as I can without wasting my precious drink.
“I’m gonna head back out.”
“Alright.”
I head back to the star-lit room where sleeping bags are laid out like mismatched brick throughout the floor. Some kids are cozied within, others sit on top. They’re all engrossed in the “bedtime story” being told by a local author.
It’s sweet, I think. This would become a core memory for a lot of these kids, drinking in the whole night through all their senses. I wish I had more memories like this. Maybe then I wouldn’t be so fragile all the time.
Adults staying overnight got their own gallery blankets and I drag one over to the far end, enough for any kid who needed assistance could find me but far away that I could be on my phone and not distract them.
Some time later another body joins me with his own blanket.
“Sorry,” Harry says as he sits.
“For what?” I play pretend. Just like these kids were doing tonight. What could you possibly be saying sorry for? What could I possibly feel entitled to you for? We’re just friends.
“For being weird earlier. I…well I have to tell you something and I’m being weird instead.”
My heart begins to thump in my chest.
“Tell me what?”
“So I’ve um…I’ve got a-“ Harry clears his throat. I glance up at him and he’s looking out towards the ceiling. “I have a girlfriend. I know we…we’re not…”
“Jeez Har,” even though ever atom inside of me is keeling over with something I can’t exactly examine yet, I play the joker. The friend. “If this is you telling me you’re getting serious with someone that’s all you have to say.”
“Really?” He turns to me and on the shiny hardwood floor so does half his body. I ignore how his knees feel pressing into mine. “You’re…okay?”
His voice is anything but casual.
“Yeah! It’s not like we’re a thing.”
Even still, I can’t say it. I die a little more.
“Yeah well I wasn’t expecting it. She’s the daughter of someone my dad knows? Pretty sure they orchestrated it but we went on a couple dates and then she asked…well she wanted to be exclusive I…”
“Well that’s good. For you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yep.”
“Thank god,” the air whooshes out of his lungs.
“I feel like I should be offended. You thought I was going to be mad or something?”
“No not mad…” he trails off. I look at his reaction and find him looking at me already. Even though it’s dark I can still see his eyes and they feel like they’re reading everything on my face. In a hushed tone he repeats himself, “not mad.”
I shrug, biting my lip hard to feel something other than the emotions threatening to overwhelm me. Emotions I never thought would surface this strongly.
“I’m good. Actually I’m not good. I think that bottle we found was rubbish I’ve got to go toilet—“ I use his knee to pull myself up. “Save my spot.”
I walk away without sparing a glance back because my act is crumbling. I’m crumbling. And I don’t understand it.
If you asked me two weeks ago I would have gone on how fun it was to be with Harry but how the idea of being with him seriously would be weird. Would throw off our balance. But now I want to puke my guts in the toilet at the idea of having to let him go. Because he’s the one who moved on.
And as hard as I try tears still escape my lashline and make trails down my cheeks as I study myself in the brightly lit mirror. How could I be mad when we were just casual? How could I hate him if all he did was look for something serious. Someone serious.
Suddenly what had felt fun and mature feels childish and disposable.
I was disposable fun.
“Get it the fuck together,” I tell myself. “You’ve got nothing to cry over. You could get yourself a boyfriend too. He’s not your soulmate or something jeez.”
I blow my nose and give myself another pep talk before exiting the toilets back to where Harry waits for me.
“You alright?” He asks. A loaded question.
“Yeah. Regret doing this for the whole night though.”
“You could sleep. I’ll take first shift.”
“I’ll get in trouble.”
“Who gives a shit,” Harry tugs me so that I fall against his shoulder and it’s the worst thing in the world.
I don’t curl my arm through his like I might’ve before. Or cozy into his chest. I stay there like a stiff robot until sleep takes me. Even then it’s not long enough.
—1 month later—
I’m heading home after an uneventful day, ready to sink into bed and turn my brain off. These days my brain talked too much and I really wish there was an on/off switch for it.
“Um hiya?” A soft voice says as I exit the turnstile in the lobby. I turn towards the voice and it belongs to a sweet looking girl about my age with harsh features softened by a layered bob. On me it would look ridiculous but she looks like she was born to rock the style she was in.
“Hi,” the rule of thumb was even though you were clocked out if you exited from the lobby in work clothes and somebody stopped you, you had to help them. I’d forgotten to tuck my badge away today damnit.
“I’m waiting for someone? He hasn’t been answering his texts I was just wondering if-“
“You could ask reception?” I point to the desk behind her. “They can page who you need.”
“They weren’t really helpful,” she shrugs. “I’m assuming you work with him? Harry?”
It’s the last name I’m expecting from her lips. I nearly stumble back trying to take her in again with the new knowledge of who she might be.
“H-Harry?”
I’d heard her the first time. I’m just trying to grasp at a second to collect myself.
This must be his girlfriend. The one who wanted to be exclusive. And I hated that I’d liked her in our two minute interaction.
He hadn’t spoken much about her since he told me a month ago but since half of our relationship before her was being intimate, we barely talked and when we did it was mostly just work and the relationship felt really fragile and rough.
I could see what Harry saw in her—she was attractive. And not pushy; she let Joey at reception push her around which was hard to do. And she was meeting Harry here, at work. It must be getting serious.
All these thoughts race through my mind in a millisecond.
“Oh! Harry yeah,” I nod when she confirms. “Of course I know him. I think he was in a meeting might be why…I can go back in and check if you-“
“Oh no! Sorry I’m not trying to be a bother. You’re probably going home I just wanted to make sure he was still in?”
“Yeah! Yeah he’s in. I’ll tell Joey—reception, to page him if he’s out. He’s nicer than he seems.”
“That’d be perf,” she beams. I die a little more, unsure why I was helping her this much. Unsure why it bothered me this much.
Ever since Harry had ended the thing we didn’t have, my life had felt haunted. The ghosts of every emotion I killed in the moments we’d been together began to surface and they were torture. Biggest of all was regret and shame. Regret over what could have been if I’d just admitted how deeply I felt months ago. Shame because I wasn’t supposed to feel this way for Harry. Because he obviously didn’t feel the same way, he never would, and it would be embarrassing to ever admit it.
Our actual relationship had gone like this after that night—avoidance -> awkward small talk -> light bantering -> finally, being able to talk semi-normally again.
We stopped hanging out outside of work however, so every day I got to see him was a day I was excited to go into work. My friends told me I had to do something about it—confess and see what he says, or move on.
And I’d tried to move on. But every guy I tried to date didn’t hold a candle to the flame that warmed my heart; to the idiot I had the misfortune of falling for after we ended things.
Or maybe I was just the idiot.
And here I was self-sabotaging by helping his girlfriend. There was definitely something wrong with me.
“Elsie!”
Both our heads turn to the voice.
“There he is,” I say but she’s already squeezing my arm and walking towards him. Harry doesn’t realize I’m standing there and I watch him smile at her in a way that sends a spike to my heart. Then he notices me.
“Oh YN,” his eyelids flutter a few times too many. “Uh-“
“YN god sorry I didn’t even get your name,” Elsie turns back to me. “YN was helping me.”
“Yeah? Thanks,” Harry looks visibly relieved and flashes me a grin. I raise my brows and smile back.
Home. I had to get home.
“Well I figured Har already had a hard time finding a girlfriend, I didn’t want him to lose her so quickly. This isn’t even a very big place.”
Harry’s expression is unreadable but Elsie laughs.
“Very funny,” Harry responds.
“I know.” I gear myself up to say bye. “Well I’ll see you tomorrow, let you get to wherever you’re going. It was nice-“
“Well we’re just hanging out with some friends,” Elsie says.
“YN knows a few of them,” Harry says. I watch his eyes bug a little as he realizes he’s stepped onto a minefield and watch him back away smoothly. “Some of the younger crew go out for drinks sometimes.”
“Ah,” Elsie says as Harry wraps his arm around her shoulder from behind. He was laying it on thick but I don’t think Elsie noticed his hiccup. “Well why doesn’t she come!? YN you should join us! One more friend!”
“Oh I don’t think she wants to-“
“I was honestly just gonna go ho-“
I stop talking the same time Harry does.
“No you should!” Elsie says. “Don’t listen to Harry.”
I catch his eye and they’re saying please don’t.
Don’t tell me what to do, mine say.
Don’t be stubborn.
Challenge accepted.
“Ok! Maybe one drink.” I say as Harry huffs. It felt dangerous, having a non-verbal conversation in front of his girlfriend.
I was an idiot, I confirm. An idiot making bad decisions.
“Yay! Let’s go.” Elsie takes Harry’s hand and drags him to the front door. I nearly laugh at his face as he’s dragged past me—he was mad.
And it comes out a couple hours later. By then I’d had more than a single drink, have befriended most of the people I don’t know at the table and have caught up with those I do know. Harry had been mostly attached by the hip to Elsie and I tried not to stare daggers at it.
They’re an interesting couple, you can tell Harry is distracted most of the night and she tries to accommodate by being around and talking to him. He leaves a hand on her at all times but she doesn’t wrap herself around him the way I used to. Maybe she wasn’t touchy.
Maybe I was being obsessive.
So I distract myself with everyone, with drink, with a particularly cute boy who introduced himself as Elsie’s uni friend. Who happened to be brother’s with Harry’s old flatmate. Small worlds.
“YN,” Harry tugs my sleeve as Grant and I talk—if you can call heavy flirting just talking.
“What?!” I snap after the tugging gets aggressive.
“I need to talk,” He points to himself and then me, “to you.”
I could see he was well past tipsy. It wasn’t often Harry drank to this point so I follow him to find out what was going on.
I follow him to a patio table that had just been vacated, empty glasses littering the surface. An untouched shot sits in the middle. The tableau tells a story—art was everywhere.
“What?” I ask.
“What’re you doing?”
“What am I?” I laugh. “What are you doing? I think you’ve had a few drinks too many mate.”
“You’ve got drinks,” he replies.
“Yeah…” I look back at the half finished drink I left at the bar. “I did have more than I thought. I feel like I drink a lot more when there’s a lot of people around? Otherwise I’m just nursing my drink-“
“Why did you decide to come out tonight? When you’ve met my girlfriend.”
Girlfriend.
“When I’ve…what?! Your girlfriend invited me no thanks to you.”
“Yeah but you never come out anymore. And suddenly you want to come out when Elsie asks?”
“What d’you mean I never come out anymore?”
Harry sighs. “You stopped hanging out.”
“Yeah because you got a girlfriend? You stopped inviting me out!”
“No what? No! You’re always…it’s an open invitation I don’t need to specifically invite you out I-“
“So why did you invite me specifically before?” I call him out, feeling more sober than I was a few minutes ago. “You stopped inviting me. We stopped hanging out. And so I stopped inviting you when I went out cuz I thought you had a girl and I didn’t want to make it complicated I-“
My voice catches on an unfiltered emotion and I want to die. I feel heat creep up my cheeks as I try to swallow it down and hope Harry doesn’t notice. Fuck!
“Anyway your girlfriend invited me so I came! It’s not a big deal.”
“I didn’t…” Harry scratches his nose and looks uncomfortable. “I didn’t mean to stop. I…it was complicated and I-“
“It’s fine. Whatever Har.”
“It’s not,” his brows come together. “Obviously s’not. I’m sorry? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel…”
I almost laugh at what he’s said and how it sounds: I didn’t mean to make you feel. Well, neither did I.
“Yeah whatever. I’m not mad about it.”
“Sorry.” He says instead.
“Thanks,” I clear my throat for good measure, not wanting to be too emotional. I want to tell him I missed him but I don’t think it would be appropriate.
“I thought-“ he breaks off with a laugh. “Nevermind.”
“What?” I push him lightly. “You know I hate when people don’t finish their thought. It’s going to drive me crazy—what?”
“No this one you won’t like. Nevermind.”
“Tell meee,” I poke his shoulder until he slaps my hand away.
“Stop that! I hate when you do that!”
“I know.” I say smugly. “So?”
“It’s stupid. I thought you came here to annoy me or something. And then you’re practically sitting in Grant’s lap…”
He’s right. I wouldn’t like it.
“Hold on,” I bring my hand down on the table. “You thought I was flirting with Grant to annoy you? Why would I-what!?”
“Like I said,” he doesn’t make eye contact. “It was stupid. Nevermind!”
“No it’s not nevermind. You don’t drive what decisions I make in my love life.” Lie. “Got that?”
“Jeez you can’t get angry after forcing me to say!”
“I can!”
“Can you quit bitching I don’t have time for this.”
“I’ll be as big of a bitch as I want to be.” I cross my arms.
“Unfortunately, I know.”
“That’s a completely stupid thought to have-“
“Surely not all your thoughts are winners. That’s why you don’t say all of them.” Harry says, then laughs. “Actually you do. And I always have the displeasure of hearing all of them.”
My jaw drops. “It’s like you’re purposely saying the stupidest shit right now. Like you want to be a prick.”
“C’mon you little shite,” Harry tugs my arm until they uncross. “I’m joking, remember jokes?”
I want to say something snippy, tell him off, but as my arms fall away his hand slides down until the tips of our fingers brush. It makes me feel touch-starved, like I’d been isolated in the woods for the last two months growing crazy for human touch.
Harry senses the shift and his smile dies down, his throat bobbing up and down.
How was it that Harry, out of every man I’ve ever met and continue to meet, has this effect on me? How can one touch quiet my mind so completely while pushing my heart into overdrive.
Why, I want to ask the universe. Why was it this man in front of me that made me feel so intensely?
“YN,” he says.
I should pull away. I should because his fingers creep further now pressing into my palm. I want them to slide higher until they’re tangled in my hair, pulling me closer. I wanted him closer.
“I missed you,” it comes stumbling out. And the shock of it pulls me out of whatever trance I just found myself in.
I pull my hand away and Harry straightens up, his gaze clearing too.
“Sorry.” My heart is in my throat now. “Sorry. I didn’t—that was inappropriate. I’m gonna go back now…”
“Wait,” he calls out as I head back to Grant knowing my heart wasn’t in it anymore. That I was going home.
“Hm?” I try to blink away the shame as I turn back towards him.
“D-do you…regret anything?”
I raise a brow and he flushes. I was making this torture for both of us but I wanted him to ask.
Stupidly, I wanted him to know.
“Between us. I know we never…we’re just friends. But did you ever regret…us?”
I shake my head. “No. No. Never. It was some of the best times.”
It’s like I’ve said the wrong thing. His face falls and I decide I had to go. Had to. I was afraid what else might be spilled out between us.
I don’t even remember what I tell Grant, just that I grab any of my belongings that I can spot, ask him to throw his number into my phone, and hightail it out. And I nearly make it to the tube when a warm hand grips my arm.
“Get off—oh!” I nearly whack Harry with my purse but he ducks anyway. “What the fuck Har!?”
“Sorry. Sorry sorry!” He lets me go and I miss his warmth. “I didn’t realize!”
“Yeah! You can’t just grab a woman at night like that!”
“Obviously! I wasn’t thinking! I was just trying to get to you-“
“Why?”
“Bloody hell you know why YN!”
I stare at him. His face doesn’t hide a single thought, a single emotion. It’s vulnerable, and terrifying.
“Don’t take the piss.” He grabs my arms and gives me a shake. “You know. You know.”
“I-don’t do this. Har, you have a girlfriend. I don’t want to be that girl ok?”
“Why?”
“Why? Because that’s awful and-“
“No! Why didn’t you say anything when we were together? Any time we were together? When I told you I had a girlfriend? Why were you always so…cool?”
“Me? Cool?” I laugh. “There’s nothing cool about me Har.”
“Well you’re hard to fucking read then! I dunno! I was always leaving hints and signals that I actually liked you. And you always ignored them!”
“Hints? Signals?” I gape. “When the—what the hell do you call hints?!”
“I…I wanted you to meet my fucking parents for god’s sake. Did you really never-“
“If I’m hard to read so are you mate,” I lean against the closest thing—a mailbox. My legs are jelly. “Was that when you vaguely suggested I wake up in your bed while your parents were down?!”
“Fine well I bought you chocolates that one time, I’ve even got some of your tees in my room! I-I tried to plan romantic dates for us—Hampstead! I tried to tell you-“
“What?” I’m not asking him anything. I’m just questioning everything; everything I avoided and played off had meaning. Of course it did. Everything had meaning, but I’d just thrown our dictionary out the window so it would mean nothing. Because I was afraid.
“Really?!” Harry sighs. He crouches down and runs his hands through his hair. “Am I that bad? I thought I was making it so clear but you always brushed it off. I felt like an idiot for falling for you when it was just s’pose to be casual. I thought I was being a bloody simp.”
I inch down to where he crouches.
“You fell for me?” I whisper.
When he looks at me it’s with eyes that look like broken seaglass. With a mouth curved down so low that I want to kiss into a smile. Into a laugh.
He cups my face, his thumb brushing my cheek. I give in to the sigh and his lips lift ever so slightly.
“How could I not?”
“I thought I drove you crazy?” I grasp his hand. “I thought I was just a fun distraction I-“
“I never said the second part.” He interrupts.
“You sure?”
“You were reading the wrong hints.”
I laugh and so does he. It almost turns into tears.
He stands and extends a hand that I take, his warm palm covering mine.
“Now’s when you return the confession,” he says without letting go. “So?”
“What? I’m not hiding any confessions!”
“Liar,” he tugs me close. “Your heart’s racing.”
“That’s from getting up so quickly.”
“You’re full of shite.”
We’re smiling so hard I’m sure we look like crazy people on the street.
But he had a girlfriend. Oh god. A sweet girl I’d just met today.
His expression grows confused as mine must turn to worry. I untangle myself.
“Harry…”
“I know.” He finally clues in.
“We can’t-“
“I know.”
We stare at each other for a heartbeat.
“I’m gonna go. Or else…”
“Just like that?” He asks.
“How else is it supposed to be?” I demand. “We can’t do this Har. And please…if you like her…respect her at all—don’t break up with her just to be with me. I wouldn’t be able to stomach it.”
“Then I’m just lying to her.”
“I…” I shrug. “I dunno. I just don’t want to be the reason for her heartbreak okay?”
“You’re being a sensitive snowflake. Breaking up with her is the right thi-“
“You can’t call people snowflakes-
“I can if that’s what they’re being-“
“I’m going home.” I tell him. It’s the last thing I want to do.
He opens his mouth with whatever quick retort he always had. But he must think twice about it. His face draws into a frown.
“Sort yourself out.” I instruct him. “Just sort it out. And then one day soon we can see…y’know.”
I half turn away, but can’t bear to leave without touching him one last time. Who knows when the next time will be. I flit to him so I can press my lips against the warmth of his cheek, so intoxicating. Like an addict only sniffing the alcohol in their cup. And when I feel his body loosening, about to hold my own, I flit away and rush into the tube without a glance back.
I don’t register anything on the ride home. I’m too shocked to even cry about it.
I wash the day away, the scent of him and the look on his face when he realizes we each had been trying to hold out own glaring neon signs to each other.
It’s late when there’s a knock on my door. I figure it’s my roommate forgetting her keys, and since I’d been laying on my bed in my towel after my shower too numb to sort myself out I end up opening the door basically naked.
It’s Harry.
His eyes roam over my terryclothed figure with a smile.
“What—what are you doing here!?” I grab the edge of my towel to keep it in place.
“Were you expecting someone else?” He asks.
“No-stop!” I push my hand into his chest as he crosses through the doorway. “Why are you here?”
His eyebrows draw together, hurt. “I…I didn’t think I was that drunk—we did just admit our feelings to each other a few hours ago right?”
“Yes but!” I put my hand down because his heart is beating fast under my hand and I don’t want to feel it a second longer. “You were also supposed to sort yourself out and-“
“Can you just let me in?”
I stare at him.
He stares back.
“Fine!” I give up and move aside. He closes the door behind him. That’s when I notice his hands. “What’s that?”
“For you.” He holds a bouquet up. “I know they’re shitty. I couldn’t find much at this time of night-“
“No hold on, I don’t understand.”
“We’ve wasted enough time throwing out shitty hints that apparently neither of us could read. We should never be detectives.”
I stay still, waiting for an explanation. Any bloody explanation as to why he’s here and not with his girlfriend!
“I went back to Elise. She knew something was wrong right away. I tried to deny it. She asked if something was going on between us-“
“God seriously Har! I said not to-“
“Did you want me to go back and pretend to be in love with her when I just had a fucking bomb go off in my life!? I know you don’t want to be that girl YN but I don’t want to be that shitty guy who stays with someone because he feels bad! What does that make me?”
I can picture Elise’s face in my mind. Oh god.
“She wasn’t mad-“
“You wish.” I snort.
“No she wasn’t. Well she was at first because she thought I was with you and her at the same time. I explained. I apologized. She got it. She…turns out she was still hung up over her ex. That she really liked me but she was mostly doing it to get her parents off her back. Because they never like who she dates. Which wasn’t a great thing to hear but…I’m pretty sure I saw her catching a cab as I was leaving. Maybe she went back to her ex.”
I’m dumbfounded with his retelling of what happened after I’d left.
“She’s okay. Are we?” He asks when I don’t reply.
The bouquet looks rough, like it was maybe clutched too hard and the flowers are nearing the end of their life. I imagine Harry rifling through a flower stand to find something for me. Coming here because he couldn’t wait.
I was kidding myself. I couldn’t wait either.
“Okay.”
“Okay??” He asks but he’s closing the distance because he’s reading me. He already knows me.
“Fine.” I say as he loops his arms around my waist. I stretch my arms up around his shoulders, clasping them at his neck. Something throbs deep in my chest. I missed him.
“I missed you,” he says. Always reading my mind.
“I didn’t know I could.” I say to him. His eyes are filled with a raw emotion that mirrors whatever’s aching in my chest.
“You’re like something from the gallery,” he cups my face. “Beautiful and original, breathtaking and you pass by it every opportunity you get just to get another glimpse. It makes you realize what you’ve been missing your whole life.”
“Aw Har,” my voice wobbles. If this was Harry when he was direct and not giving shitty hints I don’t know how I was going to survive us.
“What?” He whispers.
“You’ve got a soft side. You’re not actually a prick.”
His dimples make an appearance as he smiles. “I told you. I’ve just got standards don’t I.”
I wanted all of him—god how did I fool myself this whole time. I wanted all of him. He was just so lovely. “I think you’re going to ruin me,” I whisper back. His grin disappears and he tugs me ever closer.
“You’ve already ruined me.” He says. “I can’t look at any piece of art without thinking of you. I can’t go a day without wondering about you.”
“Is that healthy?” I murmur. My heart drums.
“Who the fuck cares about healthy?” He laughs.
We gaze at each other, the blood rushes through my body at high speeds.
“Mutual ruin?” I ask.
He responds with a kiss so passionate that I forget how to breath. I’m sure my towel was being held up by our bodies at this point.
“Mutual ruin. Or you can just ruin me.” His lips brush against my ear, feather down my neck. “I’m madly in love with you YN. There’s nobody but you.”
I don’t know whether to laugh from giddiness or cry from how my heart overflows.
“Har, I think I get the hint.” I say instead. He laughs.
It’s a shitty November day—most days in November were shitty. It’s like the month had given up on being anything, knowing it was after October’s foliage and before Christmas’ spirit. The trees are naked, the sky is consistently gray, and every class refuses to let up. Between assignments and mid-terms I’m struggling.
And for some godforsaken reason the one time I really need peace and quiet there’s chanting going on somewhere close enough on campus that I can’t concentrate in study hall.
Anger brews inside of me as I slam everything shut and stuff it into my tote. I would just go home and make myself a cup, change into something cozy, and get everything done there. Away from whatever craziness had descended this stupid campus.
I soon find out; the cheering is for team spirit—apparently for the first time our school’s football team was doing well enough to advance into something. Finals, semi-finals maybe? I didn’t know enough about this sport to know. And I was too stressed to care.
And of course it was a home game. Just my luck.
I’m stumbling my way through the crowd trying to move against the flow to get around the bend. When I finally get to where I can breakawag I stand on the patch of grass catching my breath while tears pool in my eyes. I blamed it on being tired and overstimulated and pms-ing.
I should sit, I think as I spy an empty bench. I’ll sit and let myself take a moment. Yes.
As soon as I drop the tote off my shoulder and take deep breaths, despite the buzzing crowd, I feel better. Marginally. Until I feel someone’s presence in front of me.
“Fancy seeing you in the flesh—you breaking any hearts lately?” The person asks. The person whose voice I would know anywhere. The person who could not be here.
I open my eyes and see him. Here indeed. The corners of his mouth tug up into that grin.
So we were playing it casual.
If that was the case, I take all those feelings—those things I could never actually say to him because what was the point—and stuff them into a box, locking it tight.
“Not exactly.” I return a small and hopefully casual smile and pray it doesn’t waver.
Leave it up to him to make a joke after all the baggage between us. A joke about my love life nonetheless.
The last time I heard from him was a drunken text earlier this month. We’d sort of drifted—no, that’s a lie. I’d slowly stopped texting him after one particular exchange where he thought he was in any position to make judgements about my dating life. Where he thought it was okay to act jealous and possessive over text when in person he hadn’t even tried fighting for us.
I could have handled it more maturely but knowing I wasn’t going back to our hometown in a while and my chances of actually bumping into him would be slim I’d let my anger get the better of me and just slowly stopped responding.
Oh he sure knew how to get under my skin, and it was already puckered after the day I’d been having.
But my body reacts to him physically in a way I wish I could control-lightheaded, heart pounding, sweaty, and like I just found out I had an exam tomorrow I never studied for.
He tilts his head to the side and asks, “Not exactly?”
“What exactly are you doing here?” I just notice he’s m wearing his school’s jumper.
“Really?” He motions to the crowd. “That’s not obvious.”
“Oh! We’re playing you?”
His face falls ever so slightly, “Yeah? You don’t…”
“Tune into that? Not particularly no. I have a friend who’s really into it so in first year I was going to games with her a lot. But I’m just…way too busy right now with work.”
I blab more than I need to, for some reason I feel guilty for letting him down. But then I feel angry that I feel guilty. Who was he to me? And if he could drunk text me he could have given me a heads up he would be here. That I could watch him play.
“Right on,” he nods. “That’s very you.”
“I was never a sports girlie.” I agree, refusing to play his game.
A spot of silence spreads out between us.
“So,” he finally sits and I stop craning my neck. “You said not really?”
“Huh?” I recall the conversation. Oh of course he was curious. “Well I’ve been avoiding this one guy I went on a date with a couple weeks ago.”
“Avoiding?” He perks up at the word.
“Yeah,” I say, dampening the flare in my chest. “I’ve just been so busy. Plus he kept talking about his secondary school girlfriend and how I was like her—I liked the free meal. I don’t know if I have time to like, date right now right now though?”
I force the words out and they feel prickly. I try to soften my tone again.
“And you?” I ask, like there weren’t unanswered texts burning a hole in my phone right now. “Carelessly handling any hearts lately?”
He laughs and I hate the way my heart stutters at the sound. “You think I still do that?”
The moment those words leave his mouth, we lock eyes. There’s something about the way he says it that hits a nerve. Maybe the fact that he continued to be a living heartbreak I’ve had to bury alive.
It feels like we’re lightyears away again. That vulnerability we built that summer feels nonexistent like he’s hiding behind a facade again.
I raise a questioning brow, suddenly not as amused.
He gets the hint, “Ah, not really. Recently uh…ended things with someone. There is a girl from my business class. But I don’t know if she’s even into me like that, plus I’m thinking of quitting football—”
“What? Why?” I cut him off, my voice sharper than I intended. “Y-your team made it to the finals or whatever yeah? And you love it.”
“Yeah,” he says, shrugging, his eyes avoiding mine for a second. “Well I’d be quitting after this season. I barely made it out now. They want me to change positions, and—”
“Are you still playing defense?” I ask, genuinely confused, trying to steer the conversation back to something I can break down. “Har, you’re a phenomenal forward. You’ve always been.”
“Yeah but with all my work, and it being third year, and being moved to play forward has this pressure—”
I scoff, the sound loud and abrupt. I can’t help it though! The frustration bubbles up in me like a pot about to boil over; there’s no stopping it.
“What!?” He snaps.
And there it is, I think. The facade is cracking.
“You always do this.” My voice comes out hard just like his facade cracking, my anger crackles.
“What? Quit football?!”
“Don’t play dumb,” I kiss my teeth. “You never—you never commit to anything!”
“This is about football?” He folds his arms.
“Yes! You’re always so…so scared of setting expectations, or disappointing people. Like look at you—you can’t even try this about football which is something you love, and you’re very good at, just because there’s a new expectation. I just…ugh! Nevermind!”
The words hang in the air between us, hanging heavier with each passing second. He stares at me, caught off guard by my sudden outburst. I’m angry, sure, but the hurt is more present now. The frustration doesn’t just come from football—it’s everything. It’s him, it’s how I feel shut out. It’s how we came close to something deep but we always stay at arm’s length.
He stands and shakes his head, almost laughing, but it’s not amused. “Are you seriously yelling at me about football right now?” His voice is incredulous, but I see something else flicker in his eyes. “That’s what this is about? You’re pissed off about me not wanting to play forward?”
With all the emotions coursing through my body I stand up too. Suddenly exhausted, my chest tightens with everything I’ve been holding back, everything I haven’t said since that summer, since the goodbye that we didn’t really say.
“Fine. You think I care this much about football?” I bite back, my voice too loud, too sharp. A part of me is aware there are people walking by—people I probably go to class with, but I’m too fired up. “I care that you keep running. You never commit to anything when you get too close. You can’t even make a decision about your life, your future! So no, it’s not just about football. It’s about everything. You joke, you back off, then you leave. Like—like with us-“
My momentum carries me into somewhere I didn’t intend to go.
He stops. The tension in his face shifts, his usual cool-and-casual demeanor faltering as he processes my words. He opens his mouth to speak, but then pauses, like he’s weighing the response carefully.
“You think I don’t want to commit to anything? Or to…us?” His voice is quieter now, less defensive. “What gave you that impression YN? I kept reaching out, you stopped! And I only gave you what you asked that summer—you really think-“
I look away, not wanting him to see how much that cuts. Because I know that if it’s not about commitment it’s about timing. And what the hell could I do about timing if it’s too late for us now?
“I’m just saying you don’t commit to anything. To anyone.” I soften my voice but its still laced with hurt. “You’re still the same Harry you were in high school, avoiding anything that feels like it matters.”
The words sting as they leave my mouth because I know I’m hurt and being a dick and I want his reassurance or something so that I didn’t feel so helpless. Like time was slipping away and something was trying to climb out of me.
The silence after my words is thick. For a long moment, neither of us speaks. I can see him processing everything, and there’s no usual deflection or joke. It’s a raw silence I’m not ready for.
He looks down, jaw clenched, his fingers rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t know you still felt that way. Still saw me like that.”
The words hang there and for the first time, I see the weight of the years between us in his eyes. There’s no humour as a shield; he’s not deflecting with jokes. I see the vulnerability—the fear of saying something that might hurt too much. Because we had that ability—to hurt each other deeply, to leave scars.
I take a deep breath and for a moment, I almost wish I could take it all back. But it’s out now, and there’s nothing left to do but wait for the next move.
“Well. Maybe that’s the problem,” I murmur. “Maybe we’re just not ready for moving away from all that. Or to be what we need.”
“Y’know what? I don’t—I don’t get you.” He turns abruptly and walks a few paces away, frustration practically radiating from him. When he turns his face is anguished. “I-I don’t know if I ever will.”
“What?” I snap. “What about me don’t you get?”
“You’re the one that said we wouldn’t end well—that it couldn’t work beyond the summer!”
“I know! And I meant it but it’s not like you tried to fight me on it! You just accepted it! Because it worked out for you and your commitment issues!”
“And you would’ve done what, if I fought for it?” He doesn’t hesitate, locking eyes with me as he takes a step closer. “You fucking pulled away too! You keep blaming me but I was there—you pulled away too!”
“I did it because it’s you.”
“Because it’s me?” His voice breaks.
“Yeah.” Shut up shut up shut up. “I knew what kind of expectations to have when it comes to you.”
I see what my words do to him and I feel self-loathing creep in.
It takes him a second to respond and when he does his voice is low, controlled. there’s no trace of the usual playfulness I expect from him when he asks, “What do you want YN?”
A question I wasn’t prepared for, one I hadn’t even fully asked myself until now. His eyes pierce into me with that intensity I’ve only seen in rare, unguarded moments. There’s no hint of humour or that cheeky grin; it’s Harry as he is.
The air grows thick, and my heart races, a sudden pressure building in my chest. “What?” I manage, struggling to keep my voice steady. “W-we’re not talking about me.”
“We’re talking about me,” he says, his tone quiet but cutting. “So what do you want from me?”
For the first time, I’m not sure if I want to answer. He’s so serious now and it makes me feel small, like I’m standing in front of a stranger who somehow knows me better than I’d like. I want to fight the feeling, want to push away, but I’m tired of fighting against the pull between us.
And I don’t know how to answer.
I want something from him, but I can’t say it. Not now. Not when the bitterness of our words is so fresh, clouding everything. There’s no room for honesty in this conversation anymore.
So I do what I always do when the truth feels too close and the hurt too fresh.
I push him away.
“Nothing,” I say, the words flat. I hate myself the moment the word leaves my mouth. It’s a lie—a cheap shot, a desperate attempt to make this moment hurt him back. And I know it’s the cruelest thing I could say.
I watch his face fall. His eyes, once so full of that playful spark, are now darker. The smile he wore so easily is gone. His jaw tightens, a flicker of hurt, frustration, and confusion.
It makes something twist inside me, the tension making it hard to breathe, but it’s too late now. The words are out, and I can’t take them back no matter how many nights I’ll spend wishing I could.
With his eyes still locked onto me he asks in such a vulnerable tone, I almost go back on my word, “You really don’t want anything from me.”
There’s a finality in the way he looks—like we’re both staring at the rubble of something we never quite figured out how to build in the first place. I find I can’t speak at all.
He laughs, but it’s hollow. A quick, frustrated sound that breaks the silence.
“I get it,” he says, more to himself than to me. “I guess that’s the way things always go, right? We always end up like this—fighting, avoiding, ego and pride, pushing away just so we can convince ourselves it’s all…nothing.”
I flinch at his words, at the accusation, at the truth I’ve been avoiding. I don’t know how to answer him, how to fix this, how to make things right. The fact that he’s here saying these things back to me with the hurt so open on his face should be enough proof that he’s not the same Harry I’m accusing him of being but I don’t know how to back away.
“Yep,” I double down, even though my heart is screaming at me to stop. “Maybe we should just take the hint. That summer was just…”
It was the truest most tender thing but I think I was delusional that summer without my friends around, thinking the timing meant something.
“Yeah it was just a mistake. An anomaly—we were just bored or lost enough for it to work then.”
Manslaughter. Right in front of me. It hits harder than anything else he's said, and I can feel the weight of it press into me. But my pride keeps my chest from caving in.
“We don’t owe each other shit, Harry,” I spit, the words tasting bitter as they leave my mouth. “Forget I said anything! Quit football. Date as many girls as you want and leave broken hearts behind. Break your own heart! Figure your life out—it’s not like I’ll be around to hear any of it anyway.”
I expect him to lash out, to throw a joke or a snarky comment in my face. But he doesn’t. He just stands there and I hate the way he’s looking at me, like I’m the one who just broke the final string that held us together.Like I’ve become something unrecognizable.
And the worst part is somewhere deep down, I think I still want him to fight for us despite all the icy jabs and unforgivable accusations. Just once. I wanted him to prove me wrong.
But he doesn’t.
He just takes a slow breath in and out. His shoulders slump, and for the first time, he looks smaller than I’ve ever seen him. The cocky, untouchable Harry Styles—the guy who could charm anyone—just feels so human in that moment. And it’s almost worse than anything he could have said.
“Fine,” he says, his voice low, but not with anger. Something sadder. “Whatever you want, I guess.”
I watch him turn and walk away, into the weaning crowd heading towards the sports centre. Every step away is another lightyear between us. My chest aches. Every instinct in me wants to chase after him, to fix this, to make it stop. But my feet stay rooted to the ground.
The echo of our past hangs in the air like the quiet after a storm. There’s a finality that rings out and I know this is something I’ll always have to live with.
Maybe I had become unrecognizable.
•••
1.5 years later
•••
It was mum’s idea to have a graduation party. Which was surprising because growing up she wasn’t one for celebrating my wins in such a big way. Those kinds of celebrations were normally done at my grandparents’ home.
But she had recruited some of my friends’ parents and with Nan’s old home being empty between rentals they decided to host it there.
What’s meant to be surprise is spoiled when I overhear mum talking the week I’m back home, all of my uni junk in tow.
Mum never did know how to talk quietly.
I hadn’t been back home since Christmas where I’d only spent a few days before going with Rhia’s family on holiday for the New Year.
And even now, I would only spend part of the summer here before I moved on to the next chapter of my life: a job I’d landed in London.
“It starts at 2,” I hear mum telling dad over the phone. He was supposed to leave early today and join us for a late lunch with Nan. She was in town clearing out more of her storage. It was strange feeling sad about it but I did. Because it meant she really had no plans of coming back, but I also didn’t either. Not with a new life waiting for me in London.
My phone buzzes with a text.
Rhia: is there enough drinks? Mum’s actually being so chill about going for a drinks run rn
Y: i think so. We did say byob optional
R: and you think ppl will?
Y: we can run out if we need. think we’re alright
Juni: who is getting blackout first
I put my phone down and head to my room where my outfit hangs on my door. It’s a cherry red cotton dress because the summer meant bright colours. It’s simple going down to below my knees with a square neckline and thick straps, my favourite detail was the overlapping panels in the front creating butterfly-like wings that split open halfway so even though it went quite long it was still plenty airy. And it was a warm day so I’d need it.
I have a nervous excitement about who would be at the party, so many faces from so many eras of my life. And technically it was the first party that’s ever been thrown by me—at least in my hometown.
I also think of the person who wouldn’t be there. I didn’t even know if he was in town. Last I heard—or saw, from him was last summer. I’d passed by the town square and saw him having lunch with a girl. It wasn’t his sister and it looked intimate. Other than that I refused to know anything.
It was stupid because it wasn’t like we were in each other’s lives very long. But that final fight had felt like something was ripped from me. And mostly, in retrospect, knowing I was also the problem made me feel angry at myself.
In the end I was just as closed off as he could be.i demanded so much without saying any of it, without being vulnerable myself. And what’s worse is when he was being open it had scared me right back and I’d shut it down on just as many occasions as him.
It had been a hard pill to swallow—a lesson that came from a couple failed relationships the last few years. A part of me wonders if I set them up to fail because despite all this time Harry would always be in my system.
My phone buzzes again.
Rhia: Y if she sees someone from her past.
Juni: ded is he even in town
R: i know nothing about him
J: I should ask Dan
Y: I do NOT want to crash out at my own party.
Y: Not that he would make me crash out…
Y: can we not pursue this
J: babe we know u too well
R: juni let’s keep it on the dl
J: 😈
Y: i’m serious bitches!!!!!
I throw my phone down, my heart crawling up my chest at the idea of Harry being in town. Of bumping into him. Maybe I just hide at home the rest of summer.
What if he also moves to London—he went to school there after all. Odds are I could bump into him there too. The odds could be anywhere.
“I’m so not spiralling,” I tell myself. “Pull it together.”
***
Lunch with my family is a bit awkward but I fill the silence as Nan talks about my London plans and dad uses his phone to continue working. I can tell Mum’s fed up with him—since coming home this summer I’ve noticed a weird vibe with them but I choose not to poke the bear. I had enough on my plate.
“What do you think?” Nan asks dad.
“Hm?” He drags his eyes off his phone. “About?”
“What your daughter’s talking about? At her lunch, celebrating her graduation that you attended two weeks ago.”
“Mum,” dad sighs. “She was talking to you. YN what is it?”
“It’s nothing,” I didn’t want a family fight in public right now.
“It’s not.” Nan lowers her fork. “I don’t understand why you agreed to come if-“
“It’s alright,” Mum steps in. “Honey, can you just focus the rest of lunch?”
“Alright alright I’m putting this away,” dad tucks his phone off to the side.
Tense silence settles on the table.
“So what’s that about?” I decide to ask. “Busy at work?”
“Yeah just a client—you don’t want to hear the boring details. What were you telling Nan?”
I push through to fake enthusiasm as I retell my story. To do that I have to ignore Nan no longer eating and mum and her sharing a look. Something was going on for sure.
I ask Nan about it later.
“Nothing you need to worry about.”
“I’m not worrying I just want to know.” I ask. I was driving us back home.
“Your dad’s just working a lot. More than usual. He’s been half himself, makes it more annoying than normal to be around.”
“That’s it?” I push.
“Yeah. Don’t fret about it love.”
She pats my arm and I stay focused on the road.
“I’m glad you’re here again.” I tell her for the hundredth time.
“Me too.” She sighs and it carries all the memories we’ve been reliving since she’s been back. “As hard as it’s been. I’m so glad to be here before you head away. Your life is going to get so much bigger.”
“Thanks Nan,” I park in front of her hotel. “Why don’t you show up even for a bit? At the party?”
“Oh no. I’m too old for that crowd.”
“Nonsense.” I tease. “You don’t look a day over 50.”
“Well!” She exclaims. “You’ll make a cougar out of me.”
We laugh and I kiss her goodbye.
“Your gramps,” she clutches my hand before letting go. “Would be so incredibly proud.“
“I know,” I smile although my vision grows blurry. “I wish he could have seen me grown up.”
“He knows. Where he is.”
We hug again, but it’s the kind of hug that holds each other up. When we get our strength again we pull back.
“Now go have some fun. Some youthful drunken fun. But be safe.”
“I’m celebrating in your old place,” I laugh. “It’s gonna be weird but it’s the safest place I know.”
She flashes a watery smile, and with one last pat she’s turning to go back into the hotel. I watch the concierge hold the door open for her, watch as she walks to the lifts. Then I get back in the car and drive home.
***
Mum’s grinning when I gasp at what she’s done to the backyard.
“Mum!” I turn to her. “When did you do all this?”
“Last week,” her smile is proud and something else. It’s her eyes, they look a little sad. “I’m good aren’t I?”
“Yeah I-“ i look at the fairy lights running over the expanse of the backyard. There are seats and pillows littered everywhere, a table of drinks and bites. The inside of the house is lit with warm lighting and stocked with even more. It looks nothing like my grandparents’ house and for that I’m kind of happy. “I can’t believe this. You didn’t have to go all out.”
“Oh of course I did,” she puts an arm around my waist. It was strange her being so touchy-feely lately. “For my baby of course I did.”
“Aw mum,” I put my arm around her. “What’s gotten you so soft?”
“Oh I dunno,” she dabs at her eyes. “This wee baby I held in my hands is now taller than me and all graduated and moving to the big city! She’s a woman. I don’t know when that happened.”
“And?” I push. “That’s all?”
“Yeah!” She looks around the backyard.
“You’re a shite liar mum.”
“Hey!” She turns back to me. “Excuse your language!”
“I thought I was a woman!”
“You’re still my baby.” She crosses her arms. I see myself reflected in her and a weird leaky feeling guts me.
“Mum.”
“What?! I had free time okay?”
“Mum.”
“Okay! I didn’t tell you this but I was laid off a few weeks ago. I have too much time to spare. Your dad told me I could just retire now—he’s working enough to support us a few times over but…I don’t know!”
“I’m sorry I wish you told me!” Suddenly everything makes sense.
“Not during your happy time. Plus we’re fine, nothing is wrong. It’s just the life crisis of an old woman.”
“Still. I want to hear it.”
“What’s the point.”
“Well I’ll be an old woman one day—I want to know these things before I get there.”
Mum gazes at me like she’s trying to find something, and when she sighs I can’t tell if she did or didn’t but it’s a sigh full of unspoken things. “You’re a good kid. I…”
She bites her lip. Oh god, I think as my eyes instantly prickle with tears, this was getting very emotional and so unlike us.
“Look,” I pivot. “Find a new job if you want. Even if it’s part time. Who cares if you don’t need it. If it’s what you want…”
“Yep,” mum rubs her arms and nods. “Yeah. I’ll think on it. Anyway let’s take the ice out the freezer and finish this up.”
I let her go knowing that was the end of her opening up, but the emotions sit heavy on my mind until Juni and Rhia trickle through the door and start talking a mile a minute. They distract me until mum leaves and even more friends join.
Dana comes with all sorts of mixers and sets up a station by the drinks, telling me she would make me a special cocktail. I tell her I’d be honoured—her latest summer job was at a pub one town over and she’s been more showy about her skills. I loved the confidence.
As the party descends into full swing it’s a really fun time. People bring plus ones and twos so after a while I don’t even bother checking in on them because I couldn’t tell who I knew or maybe forgotten.
I catch sight of Jusuf from the cinemas and we catch up on what we were doing after graduation. There’s so many people I know here tonight and it makes my heart full that they all showed up. Although in a town like this, I also know they’d show up for any excuse to party.
At one point I spot Rhia and Juni in an intense conversation and when I approach they quiet down and Juni changes the subject before I can ask.
I find out later why.
I’m putting a shovel away after needing it because someone accidentally got their hat stuck in a tree doing a fake graduation-toss and I feel someone walk up to me.
“Long time no see.”
I know who it is. I know it with my whole being. But my body can’t compute that he’s here. That after a million scene re-writes of our final time in my head, and a million more what-ifs if I saw him again, he’s here.
His voice is low, not the typical teasing tone as if he’s hesitant about where we stand.
“Hi.” I manage to make out lamely once I turn around. I wasn’t expecting this when I’d packed everything away neatly and he was just a character in my head.
“Hi,” this cracks a smile on his side which warms me to one.
I suddenly remember the time he surprised me that first summer at the cinemas, showing up in my line. He somehow always had the drop on me—tonight feels a little like that now except older and full of more regret.
“Guess we’re both still alive, huh?” I ask.
A chuckle slips out of him—awkward, like he's not sure how to be, if he should laugh. How did we get to this?
“Just barely on my end.”
I force a smile; I feel too much. But then again that was standard around him. “After getting that degree, yeah. Barely made it across the finish line.”
An itchy silence descends, neither of us knowing what to do. I had thought of so many things I’d say to him if I ever saw him again but none of them fit into this moment. That was life—you couldn’t really plan moments like these.
Yet every scene in my head started with me finally being the vulnerable one. So I try it.
“I didn’t think I’d see you. Here today.”
It catches his attention, he searches my face for my reaction as he asks, “Why’s that?”
I pause but the truth comes up too fast. “I thought you wouldn’t want to be here. Or come to a party I threw, see me. Basically I thought you moved on…from everything. Wouldn’t blame you.”
The words hang between us, going in deeper than I intended to but the words just kept coming out. My usual old defensiveness rises up to shield me but I don’t pick it up. Which is harder than it sounds.
Harry’s only proof of hearing me is a tight shrug. Maybe he didn’t want to go deep. Bollocks.
“Well, I wasn’t planning on this,” he says and something flickers in his eyes like it’s been turned on. “But I got an invite, and I wanted to just see…everyone.”
“Right,” I nod. Everyone.
It grows quiet again and I’m forced to acknowledge that he probably wasn’t hung up over all this like I was. He’d moved on—it would be easy for someone like him.
I was trying to dive deep but we had been reduced to a shallow creek. This was our fate, I guess. I’d have to rid myself of this soon and really move on after tonight.
“Well I gotta do the rounds so,” I point to the drinks. “Grab whatever. Dana made drinks earlier I dunno if there’s any left.”
“Probably not,” he’s already looking away. “I’ll go say hy to her though.”
I want to grab the shovel I just put away and dig myself a grave right here. That’s how shitty it feels to be the one to be hung over Him. It’s not even the rejection more than the crush of hope that makes me feel so shitty.
In a daze I find Rhia and Juni.
“Who the hell invited him?” I demand because it had to be them.
Rhia eyes Juni who is texting furiously on her phone.
“Well?” I demand. “Juni!?”
“Huh?” She finally looks up. “Oh…heh yeah did you see him? Your grad gift?”
“Juni this isn’t funny! Why the hell did you invite him?”
“You’re gonna bump into him sooner or later!” She shoves her phone away. “May as well hash it out in case there’s something there. You’ll be in town for the next month…”
“There’s nothing. There.” I don’t mean to sound so bitter over it but my friends hear right through me. Both their faces fall.
“Is he dating someone?” They ask.
“I…” maybe that made sense. Why he seemed so over us. “I have no idea! If you don’t even know why the hell did you-“
I cut myself off. I didn’t want to fight with my friends over this. It was a happy occasion what the hell was I doing!
“That son of a bitch,” Juni says. “Did he say something to you, like?”
“What? No! Juni we’re…it’s obvious from his end we’re just history-“
“Yeah right!” Rhia interrupts. “He was more than happy to show up-“
“To a party. Of course he would be happy to be at a party with old friends and free drinks. It has nothing to do with me.”
Juni’s phone starts buzzing and she swears. “I have to take this one sec.”
She leaves and I look at Rhia with a question.
“Boyfriend troubles.” She shakes her head. “She’ll probably fill you in later. I barely know what it’s about.”
“What about you?” I pivot, realizing I was just talking about me. “How’s dating for you?”
“Pile of cow shite. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Convenient.” I cross my arms.
“Look, we’ll all catch up on our love lives later. It’s so bloody obvious what’s going on with you two, you guys are as frustrating as my own love life. Now let me just chat with that one.”
She’s off before I can ask who but she’s making a bee line to Harry. I bury myself in the crowd so he doesn’t know she came from my charging station.
I didn’t want my friends to talk to him. I didn’t want him here at all if he was just here as a formality. Or I did and I wanted to stare at him all night and mourn the fact that my emotionally absent parents had turned me into a fucking mess that couldn’t just tell a guy she really liked him and wanted to be something more than friends.
I get a drink and then another before I find other friends dancing to join. This was my party and I was going to have fun.
***
I knew I couldn’t avoid him forever; the party itself was in a small space and if he sought me out once he could do it again. And he does.
This time I’m biting on a gummy worm and stretching it out waiting for it to snap. I’ve had enough drink in me to have a buzz but I’ve just been having fun. And now that the sun was going down things felt like it was just getting started. The night was young.
Harry comes up to me just as the worm snaps in two. I straighten up when I see him.
“What did that poor worm do to you?” He asks
“Oh,” I laugh out of awkwardness. I wasn’t ready for teasing from Harry yet. “Wrong place wrong time?”
“Been there,” he jokes again but it’s not right enough to break the ice. He tries another angle, “Didn’t get a chance to say congrats yet.”
“Hm.” I nod. “Maybe because you were too busy avoiding me.”
“Maybe?” He tries not to laugh. God, we were so awkward.
“Impressive commitment that, actually.” I tease.
He sighs at my jab but there’s a smile on his face.
Who was I kidding, half our relationship was bantering—if I wanted to see if things could be normal, not responding to the teasing was the first thing not to do.
“And congrats back to you.” I finish lamely.
“Thanks. I thought you’d want me to avoid you.” he confesses, hand scratching the back of his head.
“Maybe.” I keep it vague. “Could be better that way.”
He’s quiet for a moment before he replies, “I disagree.”
The sure way he says it makes my stomach flip.
“Noted.” I look up into his face, I feel like I know it like the back of my mind but seeing it like this I can see all the ways it’s changed. All subtle, but I’d spent enough time studying it to know.
“You look good by the way.” He motions to me. “Really good. Like, grown up. In a good way.”
“Yeah uh thanks. I’m grown up alright—got a big city job and everything. How about you?”
“I’m sorry.” He says as if he hadn’t heard anything I just said and was continuing a conversation in his head.
“What?” I ask, confused.
“I’m sorry. For earlier. I…I came up to you and acted a bit mental. Your friend, Rhia…”
“Oh god.” I forgot to ask her what happened after avoiding it. “What did she say? I didn’t tell her to-“
“No she just…she didn’t really say anything? She just asked me ‘what’s your damage’ and then told me I should ‘figure out why the fuck you showed up here’ and then…left?”
I cover my face, feeling it flush with the heat of an oven. “Sorry.”
“No. I’m sorry. You were being all nice and open and it threw me off and then I just…assumed you weren’t that pleased to see me. So I was gonna avoid you.”
“Hm.” I uncover my face. “Well I’m not not pleased.”
He nods tightly.
“But did you? Figure out why the fuck you showed up here?” I ask.
It earns me a chuckle and relaxes his shoulders.
He leans against the table littered with more snacks than I had during exam season. People had really brought a lot. That was small towns for you.
His eyes grow a little more serious, “you know I’ve been thinking about what you said.”
“When? I’ve said many things.”
“Last time. About committing to things. About trying.”
I blink, surprised. I don’t know why. That summer together was full of me telling him to take responsibility—with Dana, his life, hell I was heavily hinting with me. But hearing him say it outright so vulnerably is a side of him I thought I’d lost the privilege to.
“I, uh…I signed up for this internship. Last summer? A local sports company. I was trying to get some work experience and they really liked me so they kept me on throughout the year? And uhm, they want me to join their youth management program.”
I feel my throat thicken with an emotion that feels like pride but also sadness. “That’s amazing congrats Har.”
“Yeah thanks. But like, initially I thought, no way I don’t want to be tied down. Y’know? What if there’s another better job out there.”
I make a sound, a laugh but it also sounds like a scoff. He smiles like he knows what I’m thinking. And I’m sure he does.
“I could’ve taken a step back like I wanted, but…I didn’t. I thought about what you said—I had been thinking about it since you said it actually. I don’t know, it felt like I needed to show up.”
For a second, all the memories of our time together flood my mind—the summer days, our late night talks, all the scolding and the confessions and the banter. He’s doing it now, doing what I had been after him for. Hearing him say this makes me feel a twist in my chest; he was growing up too.
I swallow and look away, the unexpected emotions making it hard to talk. “I didn’t expect you to take it seriously,” I finally say, kind of cringing. “I kinda went off on you that last time. About your commitment to…stuff.”
He chuckles softly, the sound feels like a balm to my embarrassment. “I needed to hear it. Honestly, I did! And I’m finally starting to really figure it out—stepping up and going after something even though it scares me.”
He says it so sure of himself, I believe him. And part of me feels proud. Of him and of us. Maybe we both inadvertently pushed each other in ways we couldn’t even see at the time.
My voice catches a little when I look at him next. “I’m sorry, though. For…how I said it. I wasn’t exactly gentle. And in all honesty I was pushing a lot of the fault on you. I could’ve also been the one to step up and say something but I was scared.”
He shakes his head, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “No. Don’t ever apologize for that. You were right to push me. I needed it. You always knew what I could be before I did.”
His sincerity makes my heart ache. Everything’s different now. But maybe that’s okay.
I catch his eye and hold it a beat longer than before, letting the silence between us say what we can’t.
“So long story short that’s why the fuck I’m here,” he says to break the seriousness—something he was good at. This time I laugh too.
“Thanks for letting me know.” I joke.
“No thank you,” he direct his soft smile at me and I hate that I can’t grab his face and just kiss him. “I don’t want to avoid you. So I’ve laid this all out to you; I’m sorry a-and thank you.”
“I feel like school you would absolutely fucking lose it hearing you say all those words just now.”
“He was a dickhead. Thought about himself too much.”
“So we agree.” I smirk.
“I guess so,” he looks out into the party. “He didn’t know a good thing even if it ran him over. He was scared.”
“We all were, in a way.” I say. “It’s nice feeling grown up huh?”
“Yeah, feels good to look down on him.”
I laugh, pushing him playfully out of habit. His laughter dies down after that and I feel the awkward bit creep in.
“I don’t want to keep you. Your friends might try something else.” He jokes but it doesn’t quite hit.
“Yeah. I gotta go back to dancing.” I grab another can from the melted bucket of ice. “You should join the fun!”
If he was just around to talk it out but not dance or even feel comfortable when I touch him…i shouldn’t be around him. Because all I wanted to do was burrow into him.
Maybe he did have a girlfriend and this was just closure. What would I know.
Maybe I should ask Dana.
Except Dana is locked in something when I spot her and when I try to find my other friends I find Rhia consoling Juni inside in the kitchen.
“Why are we sad?” I demand, knowing i was sad myself. It was probably the fucking house.
“Boyfriend troubles,” Rhia repeats.
“Fuck him,” Juni sniffles. “He’s…he’s…”
“We need to dance.” I demand. “Why the hell are we here celebrating grad and being sad about boys? Let’s have fun!”
So I drag my best friends out to the garden where we can dance in the cooling night air. I try not to look for Harry but it’s hard not to be magnetized to him after all this time. When I see him on his phone, maybe with his girlfriend, I bat the sadness away like a cricket ball. I would deal with it later. Now wasn’t the time.
***
The night slowly fades, so do most people from the party, but the hum of music is still in the air despite it being midnight. And then, almost as if the universe was pulling the strings like usual, White Ferrari begins to play.
The song was coded into my memories now and it always strikes me like lightening when it comes on.
It’s bad luck to talk on these rides...
It’s like I can feel the weight of shared moments: the soft goodbye we never said, the feeling that we both knew it wasn’t going to work—not then. All the aching potential we ever had.
I didn’t care, to state the plain. Kept my mouth closed, we’re both so familiar…
The last time we were actually together—quiet, bittersweet, right before we went our separate ways thinking it wasn’t the right time for us. Before the actual fight.
I shouldn’t but I can’t help it, I look for him.
And there he is across the yard, leaning against the brick wall. His arms crossed and eyes already on me. I freeze under his intense gaze but it grows soft as he realizes I’m looking at him.
For that second, it feels like time stops. All traces of humour are gone. He’s looking at me like he’s known all along that moment in the car was his too.
The ache in my chest is sharp and real, but it’s enveloped in a quiet kind of understanding: I see you, the real you, not who you used to be. I turn away and it hits me—he is’t running, he isn’t afraid anymore.
Shit. It makes my heart pound and mind race.
The song lingers, its final haunting lines filling the space between us, and when it finally fades into another, I turn back to him. Couldn’t help it.
For a second, it feels like we’re right back to when we started; with gazes clashing across a room at a party. And again now. Only this time, grief stems from between us and there’s no pretending there wasn’t a story of us.
I had convinced myself I was fine, learned to build this version of myself where he was just a memory, so I wouldn’t have to deal with how much I still wanted him. But here he is, looking at me like he hasn’t moved on either.
His gaze is steady and searching, it makes me feel seen in a way that I wasn’t prepared for.
My pulse picks up and it’s hard to take a deep breath in. I’m afraid—I want to look away and pretend this isn’t happening. But I can’t stop bloody looking at him! And neither can he; I feel like I’m getting all of him, more than I expected or prepared for.
I imagine myself running from it. Cutting this away, leaving for London and burying myself in a new life.
Not this time. Even though my chest is tight, my mind is screaming at me to protect myself, it’s telling me I’ll get attached and get hurt. But no. Not this time. You owed it to both of you not to keep running.
And just like that, he’s in front of me. The unsaid words between us are so obvious that we don’t speak. He brushes my hair back behind my ear and I close my eyes so I can soak in this feeling. On the cusp, before we decide what we’re doing.
“I always loved that song,” he says to me.
“It’s gotten really special over the years,” I look up at him. “But it’s lowkey heartbreaking.”
“Hopeful too though.”
“Hopeful?”
“Yeah,” his hand’s dropped by now but he holds it out. “Like this is a shite place we found ourselves in. But maybe somewhere else…somewhere out there, we find ourselves in a better one—a-a brighter one.”
I clasp his hand, his interpretation evoking tears I try very hard to suppress.
“Mhm,” I collect myself. “I guess I believe in this life—the one we’ve found ourselves in. And making the best of that.”
“Always the realist,” he smiles. A smile that I know so well—a smile that says it knows me so well.
I let out a shaky breath. “Someone has to be.”
The humour slowly leaks away and he looks at me like he has a confession, something weighing on him. I stay still in anticipation until we’re interrupted.
“Harry I thought that was you!”
Dana’s cousin, Ray, clearly didn’t read the room.
“Ray, mate!” Harry’s face goes back to the usual as he greets his friend.
Ray looks at me and realizes who Harry was talking to, he apologizes, excusing himself for just arriving. That he brought leftover pastries, from closing at his now part-time gig at the cafe.
I take them from him and leave the two friends alone, already seeing other friends of his orbit towards the two as they enter the garden.
***
In the end, it’s me, my best friends, him, and Dana. By the time it’s too obvious that I might be avoiding him I find Dana talking to Harry, her laugh loud as she says something I can’t quite catch. She gives me a final hug and a word of advice in my ear before stepping away, leaving us alone. Don’t get hurt.
I’m sure my friends are watching from the sidelines with the excuse of cleaning up, thinking the same thing. I approach him, my heart picking up speed like it always does with him.
“Hey,” he says softly, like this is the first time we’re meeting tonight.
“Hey,” I reply, feeling that familiar flutter of nerves, like my stomach’s full of bees.
“Was a great party,” his voice is warm. “I can’t believe I went to a party thrown by YN.”
“It’s not as impressive when it’s basically planned by parents and we’re in our 20s.”
“Yeah maybe 16 year old YN would have been more impressive.”
“I just can’t believe we have our whole lives ahead of us now. No syllabus or rubric to dictate it.” I say, trying to fill the space between us, to ignore how much my heart is pounding in my chest.
“Thank fuck,” he says, and I can’t help but laugh at the unexpected language, relieving some of the nerves.
I sense him watching me laugh, and my chest tightens—this quiet weight pulling me back into the moment, into us.
His gaze doesn’t shift, doesn’t falter. He’s taking me in like he wants to remember every detail of this: the way I laugh, the way I’m standing in front of him. Between what was and what’s to come.
“We’re not kids anymore.“
“Nope.” I agree. I let the silence hang there for a moment. And then, I give him a small smile, words slipping out, “I’m glad you came tonight.”
“Me too, I almost didn’t though. I thought you would kick me out on sight. Have our old class boo me out.” he says, the lightest attempt at humor.
“Psh that wouldn’t happen,” I look out to the empty garden. “You were always more likeable than me.”
“Never thought I’d be likeable to the likes of someone like you though.”
“Well I was at rock bottom when we hooked up.”
His eyes flash and I bite back a grin. We were getting warmer.
But slowly as we look at each other, and for the first time, I see that familiar intensity from when we were younger. But it’s less nervous, more confident—like he’s finally ready to face everything we’ve been dancing around for years.
“I just um,” there’s a boulder in my throat but I try to talk through it. There was something I’d wanted to say to him and now was the chance at the end of the night. Now or never. “I wanted to seriously apologize—I know you said not to. But I said some hurtful things the last time we spoke. Unnecessarily. Um, I’m sorry about that. Really sorry. I didn’t mean it. I was just hurting.”
Words I had regretted deeply since. I wanted to come clean.
“Do you have a ride home?” he asks, suddenly like he didn’t hear anything I said.
I glance over at my best friends, who are in the midst of cleaning up. They catch my eye and freeze, but I can’t give them any more than a quick glance before I turn back to him.
“I…uhm,” I hesitate, trying to push through the fear. “I was just gonna walk home.”
“Can I drive you home tonight?”
I don’t even pause. “Sure!” My voice comes out higher than I mean, and I immediately feel like I’ve given my nerves away. I clear my throat, trying to compose myself. “Let me just…grab my stuff.”
I point over at my friends, who are now not even trying to pretend they’re not staring. He nods and gives me a small, almost secretive smile full of all the unspoken things.
“Take your time. I’ll be in the lot,” he says and I nod. “And it’s fine YN. By the way. The apology. Thank you…and for what it’s worth I’m sorry too. I wasn’t my best.”
My nod is jerky, I can’t respond because he’s being so formal and nice and we weren’t normally like this. But I’m glad I said it even though my mind continues to spin with all the unspoken things.
I take a deep breath and rush back to my best friends, who immediately grab my arm, practically vibrating with curiosity.
“What’s going on? What did he say?” They’re asking at once, and I try to keep my cool.
“I don’t have enough time to go over it,” I insist, though I can’t stop the small grin forming. “I’ve gotta go but don’t worry about this place. I’ll do cleanup tomorrow. Thank you guys for, well for everything.”
“What! Don’t thank us—Go, go!” Rhia urges, practically shoving me towards the house. “We’ve got this covered, go get some.”
I take one last glance at them, love for my friends overflowing. And with a kiss blown in their direction, I head out.
I step outside and spot his car in the street. It's the same one from high school, the one I thought I’d never see again. The sight of it brings back memories and I can’t help the blush that rises on my cheeks.
He's leaning against the car, arms crossed, watching me approach. And in that moment, everything feels different but also so, so familiar.
I realize he was pretty sober tonight—that he was serious about whatever he was doing tonight with me. The things he said about growing up and showing up. He hadn’t turned to drinks or drugs to make any grand gestures or confessions tonight, this was all just him.
“Ready?” he asks when I reach him.
I nod, but I keep my mouth shut, not trusting myself to speak without revealing more than I’m ready to.
He opens the door for me, and I slide into the passenger seat, trying to act normal. But the moment I settle in, the familiar smell of him fills the space. I don’t know if it’s the combination of his cologne or the faint remnants of memories, but it feels like home and strange all at once.
The drive starts quietly, like this was all too big for small talk.
“Want to go somewhere else? Before home?” he asks, glancing at me.
A part of me wants to decline—wants to say we should just go to my place, keep it simple. But another part of me doesn’t want this night to end yet. It feels like we still needed the rest of it to figure out what was going on.
I take a breath, my voice barely above a whisper. “Ok.”
It doesn’t take long before we’re driving down the familiar path to the beach, the one where I fell apart in high school. My heart stutters in my chest at the sight of it, the soft sound of waves meeting the shore.
“It’s finally weather appropriate,” he says, pulling into the lot.
My heart bursts at his words, and let out a small laugh. “Yeah! You timed it better.“
We climb out of the car, the night air wrapping around us with salt, sand, and the static of what’s to come. He circles to the back, popping the boot and I can’t help watching the way he moves—his body part of my own muscle memory. I knew him like the back of my hand, I realize with a start.
“You didn’t bring wine too, did you?” I ask, half teasing.
He straightens, a bottle already in hand, grin flashing in the dim light. “Actually…” he brandises it like a magic trick. “Came prepared.”
I’m both surprised and a little touched; he came to my event tonight, not knowing how it would go, and yet he thought ahead about this. About us. He’d held onto hope.
“No glasses?” I ask.
“Oh my-,” he says, his face annoyed. “YN. I forgot. Again.”
I roll my eyes and laugh, taking the bottle from him. “It’s perfect. I’ll live without the glasses.”
We start down the beach, sand making an uneven surface to walk on, the sound of the waves crashing in the background, and I take a deep breath. The salty air feels like it’s reclaiming something I’d thought was gone forever.
“Are we going skinny dipping?” I ask.
“Not unless you want to?” He raises a brow.
“I am a good swimmer,” I used to go with Nan to the park as a kid and swim at school. It had been a while. “But next time.”
“I will hold you to that.”
“Oh I’m sure you will, Harry Styles.” I squint my eyes at him. He grins.
We walk until we’ve gone far enough, it was somewhere after 2am so the place was free of anybody.
“Wow,” he sighs as we sit down into the sand, the fine grains settling around us. “I can’t believe we’re here. Together.”
“I know.” I hand him back the bottle and watch him work to unwrap it, suddenly realizing. “And you forgot a corkscrew genius.”
“Ah, bollocks.” He bumps the bottle against his forehead with a dull thunk, and the sound makes me laugh.
“Maybe…” He digs out his keys and picks one, wedging it into the cork with the kind of stubborn focus that couldn’t end in success. I watch, fully engrossed in this attempt, as it raises the cork up a quarter of the way.
“Wow!” I exclaim. “That sort of worked?!”
“Not well enough.” He grumbles and puts the bottle beside us.
I pat his shoulder. “You’ll get it perfect one day.”
“One day?” He turns, one corner of his mouth lifting giving me that same dimpled grin I’ve thought about more than I’d like to admit.
“Yeah y’know…next time you come to the beach like, with a bottle.”
“With you.”
My stomach somersaults.
“Maybe. Whatever.” I stare out at the dark waters, meanwhile my face splits into a smile. I know he’s watching it happen.
“I could go and read your mind.” He tells me.
“If you could it wouldn’t have taken us this long to come back to this beach Har.”
“No no,” he pats the sand. “I could go and read your mind. I just doubted it all the bloody time.”
I look over at him, pulling my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. “I guess I didn’t make it any easier.”
“That’s right.” He nudges my shoulder with his. “Bloody hell. I’ve missed you so much…but you know that.”
“I didn’t.” It was nice to hear. Really nice. “And…I missed you too.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I um, thought about your dumb face all the time.”
The confession feels fragile so I bury my face into my knee so it can stop spilling my heart out.
He laughs, boyish and smug, but his cheeks take on colour. “You know what’s stupid?” he says once the grin fades. “I used to think I wanted to be with anyone who was cool. Then you showed up and ruined that.”
“Really? Ruined it?” I ask, my mouth still half-covered but a flock of birds taking off in my stomach.
“Yep,” he picks up a handful of sand and lets it fall out of his fingers like time itself. Like all the time we’d spent circling each other. “You made me want something that actually mattered. Took me way too long to figure out the one who made me see things differently was the only one I needed.”
“Yeah. That’s so true,” I respond.
I want to say something more. Something that fills in the gaps of all the years between us and makes sense of it. But all I can do is look at him, really look at him, the person I’m just starting to understand again.
“Do you think it’s too late?” I finally voice my fear, barely above a whisper.
He frowns a little. “Too late for what?”
My heart thuds. “For figuring out what this is.”
He doesn’t speak right away. His fingers worry at the neck of the bottle, and for a second all I can hear is the sea.
“I don’t know,” he admits after a beat, his voice quieter more vulnerable than I’ve heard it in a long time. “But I think it’s worth trying. Or f-for me, it is.“
My sigh of relief comes out shaky he was finally saying the words of my dreams—that he wants to try. That he’d fight for this.
“Good. Me too.”
He holds a hand out between us. When I take it, he tugs gently, pulling me off balance so I fall against him. His arm catches me like they were always meant to.
I bury my face into his shirt, suddenly feeling shy in the face of all these naked emotions. No longer wearing coolness or fear—they’re as fierce and unrelenting as the waves on the beach. And he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care.
He presses a kiss to the top of my head, and I breathe him in: salt, soap, warmth. I want to remember every single atom of this moment.
“Hey,” I murmur, tilting my head up. My cheek brushes his.
“Hm?” he says, voice rough, eyes already on mine.
My lips curl into a smile, challenging him to make the first move. But he was up for a challenge, he always was.
He cups my cheek, his hand warm and sure as our lips touch. He kisses me like recognition—like he knows exactly who I am, and he does. I know who he is too but I’m also uncovering him. Trying to accept that he was solid and not going anywhere.
His thumb brushes my cheek as he deepens the kiss, as he handles me in the exact way I’ve always craved.
Happiness hits me so sharply it almost hurts. It’s been so long since I’ve let myself feel this much. I know there is just as much sorrow and heartache to make up for it. But I had to stop thinking like that.
“Mmm,” I murmur into the kiss and I feel him pause.
He breaks away, untangling our limbs to look at me with a bemused expression before laughing.
“What?” I ask, now feeling very shy and colder without his arm around me. “Why are you laughing?”
I notice my minty gloss smeared on his lips, transferred in our kiss, and the blood roars in my ears as I anticipate what’s to come.
“Nothing. It’s just…I’m an idiot,” he reaches for me again with a look of awe. “World’s biggest.”
“I could have told you that. At any point we’ve known each other.”
He presses a grinning kiss against my mouth, “yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“So is that what you’re into?”
“What?”
“Idiots.” He balances on his knees in front of me and leans closer. I fall back into the sand, laughing as he catches himself above me.
“Ummm,” I reach out to brush his hair. “It seems so!”
“Well just my luck then.” He dips down, tracing kisses along my neck, light and teasing and sticky. Heat blooms where his lips were, and my head feels cloudy.
“But—but only the world’s biggest,” I manage to still get out.
“How perfect a pair we are,” he murmurs against my skin. And I couldn’t agree more. It always was him.
For a second everything blurs. I feel like I’m laying on the grains of sand—of every second we were together and every second between that and it surrounds me and spills over me and holds me right where I am.
His cold hand inches below my dress and finds my ribs, I jolt in surprise which gets both of us laughing again. I use the moment to push him to the side so I can turn us, straddling him with my knees instead.
“Ooh, I like the view from here,” he says, hands behind his head like the idiot he was.
“You better Styles,” I plant my elbows on either side of him and make a map of his face using my fingers. I want to memorize everything, this moment and him and the giddy feeling that bubbles up inside of me like champagne.
Out of nowhere he widens his legs, hitting my knees on either side of him so that I collapse flush against his body. I only just catching my nose from smashing into his chest.
I prop my head up. “What the hell!”
His eyes rake down my face and into my spilling neckline, “Even better view.”
He laughs, but by then I’m sat up on him again. His breath catches when I drag my hand down his exposed chest to his abdomen, putting pressure as I lean forward.
“View’s all you care about?”
HIs throat bobs. “Definitely not.”
“Thought you had more substance now.”
His hand circles my wrist, stopping it from travelling further. “Thought I made myself clear about calling me Styles.”
“I’m pretty sure you can’t tell me what to do.” I go to kiss him waiting for his lids to flutter close before I ghost his lips and peck the corner instead.
He gasps and pulls me down in response, moving us so I’m below again. Sand flies out around us—I just know I’ll find it everywhere tomorrow.
He sits up and both of our chests heave as we catch our breaths, grinning. I feel a chill creep in as the sand presses against my bare back but his gaze burns hot enough to chase the chill away.
“Hey, good thing I never did meet Gary. Maybe you and I wouldn’t have happened—maybe I’d be here with him.”
“Gary?” His brows scrunch.
“Have you forgotten?” I couldn’t believe he’s forgotten our first ever conversation. “Your twin brother-“
“Oh fuck!” He shouts out a laugh into the deserted beach. “Fuck Gary! He had no game. He wouldn’t have known what to do with you.”
“You barely did,” I remind him.
“But I’ve grown. Gary’s still a twat. Now he lives under the stairs.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes.” He says, leaning closer with a sudden possessiveness. “And I know what you want, woman. What you need.”
“Harry,” I stop him with a hand to his chest and prop myself up, suddenly needing to say. “You better not break my heart.”
His face grows serious as he shakes his head. “Never. I’m going to take care of your heart. Protect it more than my own—I promise you YN. I promise.”
His words ease the knot that was forming, the perfect hook to untangle it. And instead of getting gushy I tackle him, our legs tangling together as he goes down in the sand again. I love how it felt like the entire beach was our playground and we could find ourselves here again.
I leave open-mouthed kisses along the column of his throat and back up to his mouth that leave me dizzy with desire. HIs hands come down to knead my body like he’s relearning every curve and I feel comets blaze through my brain. On each of then I make a wish, never let go, never let go, never let go.
When he takes my mouth in his, deep and warm, tongue coaxing, his hands work my dress up my thighs until every thought disappears in a meteor shower and my body is all nerve endings. The sea air caresses the blaze of heat he leaves behind.
“You’re all I ever wanted,” he whispers as he plants a kiss into my neck. Into my hair. “I’m never letting you go.”
“I wanted,” my pulse stutters. “This. You.”
He laughs at my inability to form a sentence, rolling us again until he’s above, eyes dark and amused. His kisses scatter—cheek, jaw, corner of my mouth, teeth scraping along a spot right above my collarbone only he knew.
His fingers press into the back of my thigh urging them higher so I clasp them behind him. We reacquaint each other to all the places we’ve loved on before.
My breath catches when his palm settles at the curve of my hip, move agonizingly slow to cup my heat, moving aside fabric to stroke once, slow and sure. Heat unspools under my skin, a single slow pulse that ripples outward, until I’m aware of nothing but the rhythm he creates and the tide moving in tandem around us.
“That’s my girl,” he urges as he senses how close I am before his head disappears in the tent of my dress. I don’t even have time to ask a single question as his lips kiss up my thigh, don’t even have time to relish in how my pulse reacts. My girl.
He mouth finishes what he started; a slow pulse builds and spreads until I’m aware of nothing but the pace he draws from me. He seems to sense exactly where I am—of course he does; when to push and when to linger. The world narrows to touch and sound. My hands dig into the sand, trying to anchor myself, but it slides past me. I come apart in waves, the sea keeping count.
When I can focus again, he’s above me, grinning like he’s just stolen the moon from above us. My patience for teasing slips; all I can think about is him—having him after all these years.
“Enough of this,” I reach for him, breathing heavy. “Just want you.”
I slide my hand beneath the edge of his shirt, not even hearing what he says next. His skin is hot and tense, the steady ridge of his ribs grounding me. I help him out of the rest of his things, fingertips skimming back to his collarbone, a tremor going through him that betrays his own undoing.
He was mine, I was his. Nobody else felt like this.
I don’t realize I whisper it to him, “Mine.”
He groans against my neck, and the sound of it—low, rough—pulls a quiet sound from me. He moves closer until his chest presses to mine, sweat and sand clinging to each of us, and suddenly there’s no careful distance left.
We adjust by instinct, finding each other until it feels right. His hand slides behind my back as I arch, fingertips splaying between my shoulder blades, drawing me forward into another kiss, another caress, into him.
What starts as memory turns into something slower, deeper. His our bodies are in sync, sure now, like we’ve reacquainted ourselves with a language we once knew. The air fogs between us. I can’t help the string of swearing that escapes me as he moves against me, as I feel so right and full and here.
His forehead finds mine. “Still okay?” he asks, voice hoarse.
I nod, catching his lower lip with mine before whispering, “Don’t stop. Like, ever.”
“Don’t tempt me. I might actually never stop.”
I want to tell him he didn’t need to. That we could stay like this forever but the words evaporate as he changes his rhythm, neither of us able to handle slow anymore.
His hands inch between us and the world tilts off axis for a moment. Every brush of skin feels like something being rewritten and we move with the tide, playful and sure, the years of hesitation lost out to sea.
Just the two of us together, light-headed with the relief of finally giving in, cards on the table. Soul and body bare to the other.
Outside us the sea roars on and hushes the rest of the words we didn’t need to say, our bodies finally doing all the talking instead; unravelling into each other.
***
***
The night is much quieter now.
The moon’s having it’s final moments alone in the dark before it begins its brief sharing of the sky with the sun. It’s pale light glints off the car in the distance and the horizon brings the rest of the light.
My dress is basically sand now and Harry’s shirt hangs wrinkled and unbuttoned on his frame—evidence of being put back together again. We don’t hurry back across the beach—every second was precious to us.
Our fingers stay laced, and every few steps he swings our hands between us. My smile stays on my face, it’s a soft feeling pulsing out of somewhere in my chest.
He catches my expression and grins. Both of us replaying everything tonight that led up to now.
I bump his shoulder. Wanting to say something—i’m happy or thank you or I’m pretty sure I love you. But I can’t even get my mouth to form any words.
His grin softens into something almost shy in my gaze. “Whatever you’re thinking, me too.”
I bite my lip, breath shaky but feelings sure.
The sand gives way to pavement and a faint whiff of petrol. He opens the passenger door for me, but I linger, eyes on the foamy edge of the sea so I don’t forget. When he leans in, crowding my periphery, I turn to meet him halfway. His lips taste faintly of sand and joy.
How did I ever convince myself anybody else could compare?
I tilt closer, arms looping around his neck, chasing the warmth of him. His hands follows the curve of my spine into my hair. I melt against him, half-laugh half-sigh.
His knee slides upward between mine, teasing, and my breath falters. For a moment, all I can think is recreating tonight, taking him home with me—until I say it out loud.
“Come back to mine,” I manage, the words breaking against his mouth. “I want to wake up to you.”
He stills to look at me, eyes wide like he’s making sure. “Really?”
“Yes.” I rock forward against him, urgent like a part of me is unspooling again. “Yes! We’ve spent enough time apart. I want—this. You.”
He presses his forehead to mine, a shaky laugh on hips lips. “I like this honest you.”
“I’ve always been honest,” I say, kissing his chin.
“True,” he murmurs. “Vulnerable, then.”
The word makes my heart skip a beat. It used to sound like weakness; but I tell myself tonight it sounded like trust. My pulse evens out beneath his touch.
He squeezes me once, a quiet promise, before widening the door, letting me go and I make a frustrated noise at having to let him go. But I slide in. The night air curls through the window, still carrying the beach and sitting there I realize how tired I was, I hadn’t slept all night.
As he rounds the car, I watch him through the windshield, the shape of him half-lit in the parking lights. We were actually doing this.
The car hums softly as we pull onto the road, tires crunching over stray sand. The moon slants through the windshield, our way home slowly being lit up by the rising sun.
I glance over at him. “We probably look insane right now.”
He grins without taking his eyes off the road. “Maybe a little, I think we took half the sand with us.”
“Yeah your car will definitely need a hoover.”
“Pretty sure I ate a bunch of sand too,” he laughs as he thinks about it.
I laugh as I realize. “That is very much a possibility. Worth it though.”
“You think?”
“Yeah. Finally worth it. 10/10 would do it again.” I tip my head back and look at him.
“10/10 would do you again.” He glances with a tease.
“Just get us home.” I laugh.
We fall quiet for a beat, letting the car and the sea beyond it fill the space between words. I feel his hand find mine on the center console. Warm, soft, grounding. I return with a small squeeze.
At a red light, I lean my head onto his shoulder. He presses a quick, soft kiss to the back of my hand where it’s still laced with his. I close my eyes for a moment, letting the moment sink in. This was real. This was my life.
I catch a glimpse of the backseat when I move back again, and my chest tightens with a pang of memory. Teenagers once, fragile and fumbling—him holding me when I had fallen apart, sheltering me without a word. And now here we were years later, sand still on our clothes, both of us able to laugh—stronger, steadier.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” He asks as he drives again.
“Not a whole lot,” the streetlights continue to flicker by as he starts driving again. “I figured I’d wake up to you and go from there.”
“Ugh don’t say shit like that,” he grips the wheel. “That sounds like my dreams.”
I laugh. “I will have to leave you to drop my Nan at the airport in the afternoon.”
“What time?” He asks and I tell him. “Wo-could I drop her? Like, could I drive you guys?”
I turn to really look at him—was he serious?
“Really? You’d want to?”
“Yeah?” He glances at me. “She’s one of the most important people in your lives. A drive together shouldn’t be too bad right?”
“No!” I laugh. “I’m just—shocked. I guess? I thought you’d be terrified.”
“Oh I am.” He taps the wheel. “But I’m pushing through all that. I’m here for you remember. I want…all of it.”
“Yeah…” My eyes flicker to the backseat—he’d been there for me even when he was scared. Even when we barely knew each other. Beneath all the ego, fear, and bad habits he’d always lingered.
He notices me staring and chuckles. “Thinking about the past?”
“Yeah,” I murmur, leaning back just enough to glance at him. “Just remembering when a wise idiot—oxymoron I know, told me back there ‘You’re hurting right now but life will change for you.’ And he was right actually.”
“Yeah? I said that? That’s good.”
All I feel is affection, “I know. You should say stuff like that to me again.”
“I-I am sorry for being part of that hurt.”
“Oh Har,” I reach over to stroke the back of his hair. “Life changed—is changing. For us. I made it out alive, remember?”
He nods, his slight frown disappearing as he thinks of a way to lighten the mood. “What about—life’s better with love?”
I groan, “so cheesy. Too forced. You had better things to say before.”
But I don’t point out that he’d said the L word. Not directly but it was there.
“We’ve got quite a complicated story haven’t we.” He takes my hand back into his at another red.
“You can say that again.” I agree. “It’s a lot. I can’t believe we’re back in this car again. Or that I’m leaving all this.”
It really hits me, strange and bittersweet, that I’m leaving soon. Streets that have seen everything: the echoes of grandparents’ voices, friends shouting across yards, first loves, first drunken nights, first heartbreaks; the quiet and loud moments of growing up and all it’s aches. I was leaving the place that raised me; a patchwork of memory stitched into every corner. Finding a new home again.
“London’s going to be lucky to have you YN,” Harry says, soft but certain.
I squeeze his hand. “I guess I already am lucky. For this,” I gesture vaguely between us, sand and warmth and laughter and promises.
He smiles, the kind that makes my heart lift, and the light turns green. We drive on, fingers still tangled, the hum of the engine and our small town slowly waking up filling the rest of the silence.
And I let myself sink into it, leaning just a little closer, watching the streets slip by, thinking of what’s behind and what’s ahead. If one thing was true, it was knowing that whatever comes next, we’d face it together. This time the only true thing was that nothing would break us. We were going to make it and we were going to be fine.
A/N: soooo here’s pt 3. tumblr’s word limit kinda cut this off in a weird place so sorry about that. going to try to get part 4 out asap though! You guys will need to put up w the the continued cliffhanger and minor angst 👀
Parts: 1 / 2 / 3 / 3.5 / 4
Word Count: ~22k
———————————————
“No trust me honey I don’t mind.” Mum says in my ear. I cross and uncross my legs whilst sat on the train. “We just thought you were staying longer.”
“I was.” I reply for the tenth time. It was supposed to be Juni, Rhia, and I in London for 3 weeks but then Juni dropped out because her boyfriend had invited her to join his family on some Greece trip. Then it was Rhia and me but plans fells fully through when Rhia found out she failed one of her courses and decided to redo the thing during summer.
So not only was I heading back to my hometown for the entire summer after living away from home my first year of uni, but I was doing it with no friends (for the most part) and no family because mum and dad were still in Singapore or Shanghai or something starting with an S. And Nan of course was no longer around the bend. (She was in Florida with friends for a couple months too—really living the retired widow life).
“…and that’s the absolute earliest. I told your dad but he’s been nonstop in meetings it’s like he doesn’t care and there’s probably no food and-“
“Mum,” I cut off her guilt-fuelled rant. “I’ve got Uber and I’ve got my keys. I’ll be fine at home until you two come back. It’s just 2 weeks! You been away for longer than that.”
She sighs. “I don’t like this. Call me as soon as you get in the door. And if you need me to come back sooner let me know immediately. I will find the next flight.”
“I appreciate that.” I watch the final stragglers make it to the train after last call. Once it closes and the announcements come on I tell mum I’d talk to her later.
This summer was going to be a bust…just perfect, I think as the train lurches forward. My stomach lurches with it.
***
4 hours later and I’m rolling my suitcase up the driveway of home. But home had become a strange word as of late. Because home was always here but also a few streets away at Nan’s. If I were to drive by there now I would find a stranger’s family calling it home. Home had also become my dorm room I shared with my roommate Heather. And yet when I thought of home I also thought of my Nan in the small bungalow I lived in last summer.
Home for now did need airing out. I want to collapse into my bed but instead I walk around opening windows. Luckily I’d done a shop on my phone so I find the keys and go to pick it up. As I drive through the familiar streets of my hometown I can’t help but compare myself to the girl I was the last time I was here.
It had been a whole year because we’d done the holidays with Nan and her sister in Scotland. It was a fun affair and the first time I’d seen my whole family around the table smile at the same time. It made me miss grandpa, wishful that he could have seen it.
First year had expanded the boundaries of my comfort zone. And I finally felt like I could step fresh into a new chapter of my life and really embrace it but being back here feels like a child slamming two of her dolls together trying to get them to kiss.
As I go to pick up the groceries I already spot 3 different people that I knew and instinctively avoid. This was going to be a pain. There were several people I really didn’t want to run into this summer.
Are you going to lock yourself away the whole 3 months? I ask myself. And I know I was going to have to see and talk to old faces soon enough. This town was too small to avoid that.
Plus, it went against the jump head first motto I’d adapted my first year.
Maybe that’s how I get both parts of my life to kiss, I think with a smile as I stuff my groceries into the back of my car. I dive in and embraced whatever I faced like it was no big deal.
***
One week later and I’m bored out of my skull.
Normally I’d have school or company—even Nan. But the whole week I’ve been sat at home catching up on telly and feeding myself. It’s now gotten to the point where any movie I put on I zoned out after ten minutes and I didn’t even want to get out of bed.
Maybe I should call mum to come home early.
Or maybe I could do something productive. Like paint my room and clear it of some of my school leftovers. Or maybe I could get a job, something low key like walking dogs. Did people still need dog walkers?
I sink further into my bed. It was desperate times when I considered living alone with mum. Because I know as soon as they came back home I’d want to be outside and away as much as possible.
Maybe a job was the better option.
I decide to walk to the local high street to see what sort of jobs were available. Rhia calls me while I walk and we both commiserate about how bored we were and how it was far too nice out to be so bored.
“Wish I was there,” she moans. “I seriously hate myself for having to be here another like, 2 months.”
“I know,” I agree but try not to add on to the guilt Rhia was feeling. “We’ll have August though.”
“Ish. And when’s Juni back?”
“Who knows. We’ve barely talked she’s in blissful boyfriend land. I don’t even blame her.”
We chatter about vacations and dating and then Rhia leaves as I poke my head into a cafe. They’re not hiring but they give me a pamphlet for a volunteering thing. I’d consider it.
I’m so desperate after going from shop to shop that I even check in the hardware store. The man behind the counter actually eyes my hair which only had a green satin scrunchie in and tells me they weren’t hiring. I consider fighting him on the sign I saw on a bulletin poster but by then I’m spent.
I end up back at the cafe on the way home and slump into a seat with an iced coffee and a headache. It was noon and the sun that I was blessing earlier was getting to be too much.
I scroll through my phone for a bit but can’t help notice one of the guys behind the counter looking at me every so often. When I do catch him looking he looks away quickly.
He looked familiar, I’m sure we went to school together but I wouldn’t know his name.
That’s what I was realizing this summer. I don’t think I socialized enough in school because I knew a lot of these faces I just couldn’t recall names. Or maybe I was bad at names.
When he’s wiping down a few tables nearby I throw him a smile. If I did know him I didn’t want to be rude. This seems to thaw the ice enough he smiles and comes over.
“Hey YN right?”
“Yeah!” I can hear my voice going high, unsure where this would go.
“Uh Ray-“
“Right Ray yes,” I nod.
“You don’t know me do you?” He laughs.
“I’m sorry,” I squeeze my eyes shut. “I’m really bad at remembering people!”
“Nah it’s alright,” he takes the seat across from me. “We didn’t actually go to school but I have a lot of friends who went there. I was on the east end.”
“Ah,” okay thank god I wasn’t this bad. “Our frenemies.”
“Exactly,” he grins. He had braces on but he was otherwise older looking than his 18 or 19. “So you home for the summer?”
“Yeah and bored out of my mind.” I confess. “It’s been a week I’m kinda scared what the rest of the summer’s gonna be like.”
He laughs, “I took a gap year. Thought it was gonna be the best year of my life—I just got depressed and no money. Now I have a job.”
“Oh my god,” I laugh. “That would be the only reason I wouldn’t do a gap year. And I’m now looking for a job so I don’t lose my mind, but…no luck here or anywhere!”
“Yeah they actually overhired for the summer cuz of all the tourists and now they’re cutting people’s shifts.”
“That sucks.”
He shrugs, getting up to go again. I feel lame when I want to ask him to stay. I just needed human connection. “Yeah I’ve been here long enough so I’m okay. Do you have a car?”
“Yeah?”
“Try the mall today. My cousin works at the cinema I can tell her to hook you up if they have anything. I think you went to school with her actually? She works first shift.”
“Oh yeah thanks uh that-“ I’m cut off by someone at the counter calling his name.
“I’ll text her.” Ray tells me. “Nice talk YN.”
I wave him off and feel rejuvenated. I would take the job selling popcorn if it gave me something to do.
***
The cousin Ray spoke of was Dana. When I realize this it’s too late. I’ve already walked confidently up to the counter and spotted her.
She smiles, a bit hesitant, and waves me to the side, I pray she doesn’t ask anything about all the sensitive topics I’ve shoved into a corner of my brain. And I luck out again, she’s perfectly professional.
“Hey!”
“Hey Dana.” At least I remembered her name. Well, actually I only know it because she requested to follow me on Instagram last summer and we’ve been liking each other’s things since. She was nice. “Small world.”
Dana still had the same bangs except her hair was a lot shorter and she had pierced her nose. “My cousin told me about the job thing? Unfortunately you do have to go through the interview process-“
“That’s alright.” I reassure her. “I don’t want to like have anyone pull any favors. If I can just get a job and get like 2 shifts I’d be happy.”
She snorts, “We’re constantly understaffed and the school and tourist rush is going to bust our tits up so you’ll definitely have more than 2 shifts. But I’ll vouch for you. I mean, why wouldn’t they hire school valedictorian.”
“Ha,” I feel strange her saying that. Because you’d think school valedictorian would not be working handing popcorn at the cinema yet here I was. Oh god would people I run into think that? That I burned out and am working at our local cinema?
“I hope you get in. It’s fun—well it’s chaotic but everyone working here is really fun to get along with. And you can also apply to the Starbucks inside I heard they’re hiring too.”
“Yeah!? Thanks!” I would not be applying there. I was rethinking this applying thing.
Maybe I should have done an internship that some of my uni friends were doing. I just didn’t because I still hadn’t settled on my focus and I was supposed to be having fun with my best friends this summer. Now it was all upside down.
Dana hands me the form and tells me I could fill it out off to the side or take it home. If I took it home I knew it would never make its way back, and when I took a breath I knew that being home with mum and dad all summer would actually break me.
So I fill it out. What was the worst that could happen.
***
“Will you be home for dinner?” Mum shouts out when she hears the car keys.
“Probably?” I step through into the kitchen where she’s reading. “My shift ends at 6.”
“Okay,” she takes her glasses off and studies me for a second.
It had been one week since they’ve been home and I’m so glad I had thought ahead and gotten this job.
So far both of my parents have tried to crowd me and ask me about my life as if we didn’t talk every week. Then they tried to plan a guilt-trip—literally a trip because they felt guilty for leaving me stranded. I reminded them I was already spending a week in July with Nan and they would be away for most of August again. We’d settled on a family dinner and day trip to the sea next month.
“Are you sure you want to keep working there?” She asks. “If you need money your dad can help.”
“Mum I already explained it wasn’t the money.”
It was the first time I was making my own money and even though it wasn’t a lot it was quite freeing. I thought of Nan who always told me financial independence for a woman meant more than it did for a man. And even though I wasn’t about to build a life on my £200 it was nice to spend knowing I earned it. Nan had been so happy when I told her.
But more than that, I’d officially been at the job a week—most of it was training but Dana had been right; it was a fun group of people and even though I had to suck it up and deal with all kinds of customers it was a new experience that was teaching me a lot about myself.
“Well why are you working at a cinema then?”
“It’s just…something to do! I’ve never worked a proper job before and it gives me something to do and I’m making friends there. It’s good for my social skills?”
That seems to satisfy her for now. She shrugs and picks her book up again, “Well if that’s what we’re getting jobs for. Make sure you text me if you’re gonna be late.”
I make it to work on time and clock in. I’d officially been cleared from shadowing this week and of course my first shift’s in concession. But I take it with a smile.
“Don’t let the mum and dads bully you,” Dana warns me when I bump into her on the way through. “Those crying kids fuck their heads up and then they try to fuck ours up.”
“Noted,” I was realizing Dana was kind but with a sailor’s mouth. It’s sad we never hung out in high school. “Anything else?”
“No. But if you want to wait ‘til 9 or come back a few of us hang out sometimes. We swap our worst customer stories over a pint and chips.”
That sounded like fun but I remember my mum’s distaste for my job and being home for dinner so I figure I shouldn’t push it. “Maybe next time? I have a thing at home.”
“Yeah,” she nods. “Catch us next time!”
The first couple hours are slow—not a lot of people came to the cinemas until later in the afternoon. But still I continue to serve snacks like a pro and only mess up a couple times on sizing. For my first shift alone, I call it a win.
***
It’s the beginning of the evening rush a few days later and I’ve decided this is the worst shift to work. But I promised Dana I’d cover it for her even though I’d only done one evening shift and that was while I was training. In return I had tomorrow off. Now I’m not so sure it was a good trade off.
“No we wanted the large see,” a frazzled mum points for the third time at the large popcorn in front of her. “This isn’t large. I came here last month this is not a large.”
The line behind her grows even though another register is open. I tell her I could show her the 3 sizes so she can see for herself through a forced smile that makes my cheeks hurt.
“No I want you to admit this isn’t a large. How are all three kids going to share this. It’s barely enough for myself!”
I take a look at her kids—one sits on her hip probably the most likely to choke on the popcorn. The other is shouting into the face of the eldest, probably about 5. Somehow I know the only way her three kids would finish this size is if they spilt it all over the floor.
“If you want separate bags I can give them but I’m afraid that’s our largest size at the time. Can I help you with anything else?”
She sighs and I feel her frustration. “I can’t believe the money I’m spending and they just shrink it down and expect you to believe it’s a large because they’re trying to brainwash you with the frequencies in those speakers! Honest to god I don’t know what I’m doing here! Let’s go kids.”
I try not to look so shocked at her spiel but it’s hard not to. She was here by choice, what did she want me to do?
“Now I came here last week and I don’t remember them hiring girls like you.”
My ears register him first, then my eyes slide from the woman walking away with her kids, to his face. Those deeply knowing green eyes.
“I’m new,” I hope my face doesn’t give away the fact that my stomach wants to empty anything it ate in the last 24 hours and my heart is beating so fast I’m pretty sure it’s on whatever frequency that woman was talking about.
“Yeah I know I’ll go easy on you don’t worry.”
There’s a few seconds of just staring at each other, soaking each other in. He looks the same of course—slightly less boyish but the exact same infuriatingly beautiful face. I’m suddenly self conscious of what he sees staring back at him.
I always knew I’d see him again but not in this ugly polo tee and my hair a right mess from the rain I was accidentally caught in in the parking lot.
After our inspection’s up both of our faces relax into a smile.
“YN.”
“Harry. What can I get you?” I watch his eyes glint with a cheeky response so I clarify. “From the menu.”
He grins. “2 medium drinks and large popcorn. And some m&ms.”
I ring him up, kind of in disbelief this is happening. While I’m working at the bloody cinema. And I’m supposed to be blase and indifferent but I can’t stop stealing glances like a clown.
The things happening inside of me are so loud I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone around me started staring at me. It wasn’t fair he got the element of surprise after probably choosing my line to stand in.
I want to stare at him, figure out all the ways he might be different or the same like one of those spot 7 differences we used to play in the back of magazines. I wonder if he still found the same things funny, if he thought uni suited him or not, if he feels grown up living so far from home, if he’s met anyone or he still plays the field, if he still feels the same way about me.
You’re different. You make me feel different.
It’s no surprise that amongst every emotion that’s zipping through me when I look at him, the one that stands out is how it still aches.
Because after a year away, after space and digesting my whirlwind of a year—having independence and going on dates and making new friends and realizing grief worked the same way as motivation in that you woke up with varying levels every day but it stayed with you no matter the time in between. Well…I really believed Harry and I could have been something.
Maybe it was right person wrong time, or right people wrong attachment style. Whatever it was I had to suffocate the notion that there could ever be anything romantic about us. We just kept hurting each other in the end. And I was tired of hurting.
He brushes my hand as I hand him his stuff.
“Enjoy your movie,” I give him my fake customer smile. He raises a brow.
“I will now.”
I manage to hold the pokerface until he’s passed the line and gone back to wherever he came from. But I’m absentminded with the next customer as I watch him go up to a pretty brunette and hand her the popcorn. She laughs at something he says and they walk to their movie.
I’ll never stop wanting you.
We were just a moment. A moment that would never be a period or a lifetime. I knew that and yet I couldn’t deny the warmth flooding my body when we spoke or when his hands brushed mine. I thought I was over him and all this drama but damn he had cast a spell on me.
Harry’s POV:
I was stood in line when my eyes flicked over the crowd and landed on her—I wasn’t ready for it. It felt familiar; an ache that tore me right through yet knew how to patch me back up. She looked different, or maybe it’s just the way she’s angled. And I swear I forgot to take a breath in. Or out.
She goes through customers until I’m at the front of the line. She still doesn’t notice, and I’m a little bummed that her eyes don’t draw to mine in a way that I think mine would to her. In any space.
A whole year since I saw her last but I feel like that same kid that fucked up all over again. I try my hardest not to spiral into the feeling.
It’s easy to do as I focus instead on the woman in front of me with her 3 kids. I’m pretty sure they’ve had a bucket of sugar. She gives her a hard time but I won’t ever forget the shock that ripples over her face once I do go up, deliver the line I’d been practicing for the last 10 minutes, watch her face soften into something between pleased and intrigue.
A part of me thought she would clock me in the face as soon as she got over the initial shock. I’m wholly surprised by the warmth that still lingers as she entertains me. There’s something about our old magic still here that I thought died that day in the hallway.
I don’t know why I do it but I continue showing up to the theatre. I just want to see her, make sure she’s real. I don’t think this is a second chance for me or anything—I’m still young. This is summer between uni years it’s literally a state of limbo.
But I want to see her. Make sure she doesn’t hate me. She’s not always in, I don’t always get to talk to her. Sometimes I pretend I don’t see her especially if I’m going with my sister who finds it suspicious I’m watching so many movies but is happy to come if I buy her ticket.
I catch her watching me sometimes too. I hate ignoring her but I feel like I have to. I don’t want her to know how desperately I still want her approval.
Usually when we catch each other’s eye she’ll throw me a smile before going back to what she’s doing. Sometimes I wave. Usually Dana is glaring at me when she’s nearby. I try to wave at her too but it does nothing to warm her up.
I’d texted Dana after that first day asking her why she hadn’t told me YN was working at the cinemas with her. It was deliberate—Dana knew our history better than anyone and she knew I’d want to know this info.
Dana had told me she didn’t want to be complicit in my harassment and then proceeded to go cold on me. She was still mad at me about her birthday thing. I dunno when she was going to get over it.
When I talk to YN in line I try to coax a laugh or a smile out of her. I succeed most times. Unless I’m with Gemma or other friends.
I wasn’t embarrassed to be seen around her, I just know if they caught on it would become a Thing and if it did then it would become serious. And even though what I felt about her would always have an aura of serious that felt too real for me, I didn’t actually want it to become serious.
I don’t think I did.
I think for those first couple weeks I don’t know what I’m doing but I become a little fixated.
A lot fixated.
Today, I look for her after the movie but she’s not behind any counter. That was okay though, I knew she would be here regularly—no thanks to someone I knew.
“What are you looking for?” Gemma asks.
“Nothing,” I lie.
“Don’t tell me you’re back in town for a couple weeks and already looking for your next victim.”
“I’m not! Why do you have to jump to conclusions.”
“It’s not jumping when you’ve landed on that conclusion for most of your life!”
“I’ve changed,” I insist.
She snorts. “Right. You think dating girls before sleeping with them means you’ve changed now? It’s the same thing but now you’re just buying them dinner and giving ‘em false hope.”
“Do you ever shut up?” I glare as we get to her car.
“Do you ever grow up?” She replies.
She didn’t know what she was on about. Everyone liked to give their opinions on me and it annoyed me to no end. I had changed, I had been working on myself all year. And I’d prove it.
***Your POV:
I don’t expect to see him so much while I work but he watches a lot of movies.
We don’t always talk—sometimes he’s very cool towards me and I try not to take it personally but every time we do talk I find myself thinking of exactly what I said at least a dozen times and wondering if I should have done anything differently. If I should be meaner or nicer or more serious or less bothered.
That was the thing about Harry, I never knew how to feel around him. Because I felt everything around him. The entire encyclopedia of emotions. Despite myself.
I see him the following Friday. The shift was okay, I was working it with a few people I’d gotten friendly with—mostly thanks to Dana breaking the ice for me. It was much more fun doing this with coworkers you could compete between shifts with on who dealt with the craziest customer that day.
“I heard she had to actually tap them on the shoulder,” Dana says to me and Jusuf. It was the final hour before closing time and at this point we were cleaning up and waiting for the last show to let its patrons go.
“At least they were just making out. Remember last winter Dana?” Jusuf asks.
“No. I’ve blocked last winter out.” Dana shudders.
“Why what?” I ask.
“Nope.” Dana cuts Jusuf off before he can say anything. “If I have to retell that I need to be drunk.”
“Oh is she coming to drinks tonight?” Yusuf asks about me. Dana raises her brow.
Even though I told her last time I’d try to make it I hadn’t tried at all. It’s not that I was avoiding it I just wasn’t sure if they would like me outside of work. The only reason they were all so friendly with me was because of Dana and I was scared I’d join them for drinks and either get drunk and say something stupid or have them realize I wasn’t actually cool enough.
“Tonight?” I ask.
“Yeah! You should come you never come.” Jusuf says.
“Okay,” I shrug. “But I’m gonna go home and change.”
Dana laughs. “We don’t show up for drinks in these ugly shirts.”
“Hey I do,” Jusuf says self-consciously.
Dana exchanges a look with me like that makes sense.
“You have a ride home?” She asks. She knows my cousins were in town. I’d let them borrow my car as long as they were in front of this building as soon as I clocked off.
Suddenly her face falls. “Looks like the final showing’s ended.”
I turn to look at what’s made her so sour. And of course it’s him. He’s walking alongside a group—old friends from both schools, and then turning to walk in our direction as he spots us.
“I swear this is the 3rd movie this week?” Dana says as he nears. His gaze slides from mine to her smiles.
I’d only seen him twice this week, I must have missed the third.
Which was okay. I really should be seeing him less. Every time I did it always felt so intense and I was always confused if that was my mixed emotions or ours. I tried not to engage with him through our shared history but sometimes that meant I carried it with me long after the interaction.
“Bored.” Harry says casually. “Is that a crime Dana?”
Dana directs her next words at me, “I’ll see you later? I’m gonna go finish cleanup.”
“Eh yeah me too.” Jusuf trails behind her probably sensing the awkward vibe.
Harry makes a frustrated noise as they go. My head’s still spinning.
“I don’t understand,” he trails off with a noisy sigh and a swear beneath his breath. He looks back to his friends. Rubbing the back of his head he asks, “You finished for the night?”
“Um,” with his full attention on me I suddenly wish I left with the others. “Technically still got another hour. On the clock.”
He nods, casual and cool. It’s a slight departure from the way he usually gives me his full attention when he gets my line at concession or tickets. But this had been his thing over the last few weeks. Hot and cold. Or hot and cool.
“Righto.” I grow awkward. And confused. I’m about to tell him I was also leaving but one of his friends calls out his name.
“Styles!” It’s a friend of his with an arm around a girl. I don’t fully recognize him. Two other people stop with him that I recall vaguely from school parties. “We’re leaving.”
“Me too.” He tells them.
“Harry could you give me a ride home?” One of the girls asks. Her eyes say a different story. “Their ride’s full.”
“Yeah?” He gets a bit stiff but follows it up with his easy smile.
The whole interaction makes me queasy and it’s wrong of me to.
After the shit show of my final year in school my first year in uni after spending the rest of the summer before with Nan really put my life in another direction. I really thought uni had done that, and did that to everyone. Yet here I was being pulled back into this and here he was the same. That shouldn’t surprise me.
I just thought—hoped, that something about the depth of our connection would have lingered between us. Enough so he didn’t just treat me like any other girl he’d hooked up with (hot one day cool the other) because it made me feel like an idiot for waiting to see if there was anything lingering. I had to draw a line and stand behind it.
“Well I’ll…see you around Styles.” I say to him so I could be the first to go and stop being witness to all this. I feel petty because I know how much he doesn’t like me calling him by his last name and I sense him grow rigid as I do.
His farewell in return smells like apathy as he heads towards his group and I try to convince myself it didn’t smell bitter like rejection. That I wasn’t falling into the same back-and-forth cycle with him as before.
Harry’s POV:
It’s my day off and after getting into an argument with my sister when she gets worked up about something I did or didn’t do, I needed to leave the house. I stalk the gym and when my playlist and my adrenaline runs out I shower and walk through the high street, catching a familiar face in one of the windows.
“Mate,” I grin at Ray working the counter at the coffee shop. It was weird seeing him in an apron all professional.
“Hey man! I was just thinking about you.” He claps my hand.
“Me? What?” I knock his forehead. “You doing alright?”
“I’m perfect,” he brushes my hand away. “Because of her.”
I turn to where his chin points to and it’s like my body just reacts before I can tell it to. My heart races and I stand up a bit taller.
“Yeah that’s it,” Ray laughs. “I knew it. She got some spell over you or something, look at you turning into Captain America.”
“Piss off,” I turn back to him whilst my brain comes up with a dozen ways to start talking to her. “Could I get a drink or am I just here to get the mick?”
“Yeah play dumb,” he swipes on his screen. “Cold brew?”
I pay for my usual and Ray motions for the next customer; shit, a line had formed.
Of all the opening lines I end up standing in front of YN and asking, “What’re you reading?”
It’s stupid. Wasn’t even a good line. But my brain doesn’t work right around her. I want to act normal but every time she looks at me it’s with those eyes that keep me up at night when I’m 17 again and brimming with anxiety around matters of the heart. It always felt like a feeling too serious for 17.
But here I was a year older and it was still here. Or at least the imprint of it was. And she probably didn’t care to have anything to do with me. She was just being mature and polite and I was still trying to figure out my angle with her. Do I play it flirty or disinterested like I stupidly did the other day. I couldn’t even enjoy the rest of that night because I kept thinking of her face as I played it too cool. Or do I see if she wants to hang out for the summer.
But if I was honest with myself I couldn’t just hang out with her and let it go at the end of summer. Things never ended like that with us.
I shove the weight of my emotions down, like my laundry back in uni, tamping it down to leave the surface empty and breezy. I’d be funny, flirty, light like everything was fine.
At least I could make up for the other day now.
“Oh,” she looks up. “Oh hey.”
I sit in the seat across from her so she doesn’t have to crane her neck but she stares as I sit. I hadn’t even asked. “Don’t worry I’m uh, not staying here.”
“That’s alright,” she shrugs. “Just grabbing a drink?”
“Yeah. Saw Ray working so I popped in. You were a bonus.”
“Oh was I?” She raises her brows. Unimpressed. Shite.
“Yeah.” I try to warm up a little. “Matcha?”
“Oh yeah,” she swirls the ice in her drink. “I already had a coffee this morning. Any more and I’d be so bloody jittery.”
“You seem like one of those people that could smash 3 cups no problem.”
“Noo,” she shakes her head. “I’m so weak when it comes to caffeine. Anything after like noon and I’m not sleeping well.”
I nod. “A lightweight.”
“I’m a lightweight for everything.” She says. She stiffens a little, the flush reappearing before she puts her book down on the table with a slam.
“A Year of…Magical…Thinking?” I try to read the title of the book upside down. “Any good?” It looks pretty plain. Like something you’re forced to read in English.
“It is but it’s like a lot. I’ve been reading it for 2 months.”
“I took the whole semester to read something once, I’m not one to judge.”
I take a sip of my drink and imagine the caffeine waking me up. Actually just talking to her is firing me awake, making this morning’s fight with Gemma feel so small and far away.
That’s followed by an anxiety, reminding me getting attached to a girl like this would not end well. Hell it didn’t the last time.
But I wasn’t; I was just talking to her. I tell myself that. It’s not like she cared to do anything more with me anyway.
“I’m gonna let you go back to reading,” I tell her after a beat.
“That’s awfully considerate of you.” She says with a straight face. When I raise a brow she raises one back. Snarky—I liked it. I couldn’t help it, any side of her was easy to like.
Chill, I remind myself.
I’m reminded of a memory that feels like a weird deja vu—trying to talk to her after school at yearbook when I was trying to clear the air but kept saying the wrong things. But she’s always had more grace than she needed.
“Actually before I leave you alone are you uh, going to Ray’s thing Friday?”
“Oh um he mentioned something about a party at his when I was ordering but the machines were pretty loud.”
“Has Dana not told you? It’s his birthday he’s inviting everyone back in town to his place. You should come. Dana’s probably gonna be there too.”
“Oh yeah? Alright maybe.” She picks her book back up again and cracks the spine.
“Cool. Bring your friends too—June, Juni? Juni right? And…”
“Rhia.” She nods. “They’re not actually in town right now.”
“Oh,” that made sense, why I kept seeing her by herself this summer. Unless she was with the folks at the cinema. “Well anyone you wanna invite I guess.”
“Alright.” She nods. With a smile she’s glancing back down at her page and I feel like I’ve been dismissed. I get up and say my goodbye, my time was up.
On my way back home I try to find a balance between my head and my heart. I don’t think she hated me like I thought she did but there’s also no legitimate reason she would want to be more than friends.
But I don’t know if I even wanted to be that. I just…wanted to be around her. A lot. And I wanted to have her smile and know it was for me. I wanted her to trust me and make me feel that way she did when she took my face in her hands and gazed at me for a full minute.
I wasn’t helping myself by showing up to the cinemas all the time and ignoring her for half of it. What was I trying to prove? And was it just to myself?
God, I was so done in and summer’s barely begun. I had to figure out what I wanted—these games I was playing weren’t helping me.
***Your POV:
When my cousin hears about Ray’s party he immediately decides he would show up. “A house party I’ve literally never gone to one.”
“They don’t have house parties up north?” I ask. He driving me into work Friday morning so he can have the car to drive him and his brother to the pool.
“Obviously they do. I’ve never been cool enough for an invite.”
Jace was a year younger than me and actually a lot cooler than I ever was. Maybe the standards there were different.
“I’m a theatre kid remember?”
“Oh yeah! Oh my god! I forgot.” I cackle. “I thought that was your brother.”
“No he does robotics. Somehow that’s cooler he’s been to more parties than I have.”
So that’s how I show up to Ray’s with Jace in tow.
Jace is an immediate hit at the party, or maybe it was Dana again introducing him to her cousin and everyone else. I notice Harry’s not here and try to forget that fact. I came here to hang out with Dana and make friends since I’d be in this town for the rest of the summer and my best friends were MIA.
And it works for the most part. Living with just my parents was turning out to be a certain kind of undoing so I desperately needed to build a social life. Ray and Jace take a liking to each other and they make up a music game trying to get everyone to guess a song based on its first second or two. They were also music nerds it seemed.
“Hey you have to know this,” Jace comes up to me. “Listen closely okay?”
He’d had a few to drink and it was incredibly obvious now that he never went to house parties because not only was he slurring his words a little but he was definitely drunk on the attention from Dana’s crew. It was kinda cute, I felt bad for not doing something like this for him earlier.
“I am so bad at this game J,” I had only gotten one correct so far out of a hundred rounds.
“Noo,” he rocks my head. “Listen!”
I slap his hand away and lean in to hear the one note.
A single guitar note.
“What!?” I say as soon as the note plays. Damn it sounded so familiar too.
“Please!” Jace groans.
“Seven Nation Army,” someone answers from the entrance.
From the way people’s faces light up and from the voice itself I know who it is.
I half-turn but Jace has his forehead on my shoulder pretending to weep. “How could you do this to me.” Theatre kid indeed.
“I’m sorry!” I laugh. “I needed another note it would have came to me!”
“She really is awful at this,” Dana comes around to where I stand.
“Not you too-“
“We used to literally karaoke this at her Nan’s.” Jace explains to her our top hits as kids. My chest aches like it usually does when I think of my grandparents and the house that would never be home again.
“You disappoint me.” Jace sighs and flops down on the couch beside me as Dana leaves us. “I disown you.”
“I’m older than you, you do know that?”
“Fine. Emancipate. Whatever.”
“You’re so dramatic.” I laugh but the conversation behind me grows closer and I eavesdrop.
“Dana,” Harry says. That’s probably where she went.
“Did you bring the mixer?” Dana asks curtly.
“Yep,” he says. And then lower, “Who’s that?”
“He came with her.” Dana replies. They’re talking about Jace. About me.
“He from town?” Harry asks, obviously not recognizing my cousin. My neck pricks wanting to turn around so badly but I lean over the couch, over Jace who’s sitting there to look at what song he’s queuing up.
“This is cheating,” he tells me.
“I forfeit anyway,” I say with my chin on his shoulder.
I don’t hear what Dana replies with behind me except when she asks, “You didn’t bring a date? I’m surprised.”
“It’s not like that,” Harry says. My stomach flips. What did that mean?
“Hey Har, I didn’t think you were actually showing after your texted me,” as if on cue a new voice enters the fray—flirty and feminine. I hear Dana snort.
“So. Guess there’ll be no Harry time for the birthday boy now-“
“I’m here aren’t I?” Harry snaps at her.
“Ok clearly you two are-“
“No sorry,” Harry cuts the girl he was texting off. “It’s Dana. Let’s find someplace else.”
Stupid. Of course he’s going to head off with the first girl who goes up to him.
He’s been giving mixed signals all summer. At the cafe the other day he was all talkative and I think I did a good job by playing it nonchalant, like he didn’t affect me, but it was all getting a bit much—under my skin.
“That’s a good one,” I hear from over my shoulder. Both Jace and I turn to Dana.
“This! Is cheating!” Jace repeats.
She holds her hands up and backs away. In one of them are two bottles. The mixers. She notices me eyeing it.
“Can I make you a drink?” She asks. “I’m half decent at it.”
“Why not,” I decide. I was losing Jace’s game, he was obviously doing okay for himself here, and Harry was…well, he was Harry. As disappointing as that was.
In the kitchen Dana does a decent job at making a few drinks. “This is my present to Ray. A signature cocktail.”
“Is this self-taught?”
“Kinda. My cousin’s a bartender, she would make us virgin drinks back in the day. I would always stick around because it fascinated me how many ways she could make a few ingredients taste different.”
“That’s adorable.” I tell her.
“Shut up.”
“You two close?”
“Sorta. We’re the only two close in age. The rest of our family’s like a decade older than us so we always hung out growing up.” She shakes the cups in her hand. “Plus he’s always been more social—invited me to all the parties until our friends just mashed together.”
“That’s…nice.” I didn’t have family like that. Jace was my mom’s brother’s kid and we only saw each other a couple times a year. Most of our relationship was over text. So when Dana asks me the question back I tell her just that.
“Speaking of friends, what’s up with you and Harry?” I ask after our conversation dies out. When she clenches her jaw I add, “If that’s not nosey.”
“It is,” she glances at me. “But I’d be asking you the same thing so I don’t mind.”
“Oops.”
Her mouth twists into a smile. “Ehm, he’s just a shite friend isn’t he.”
“Oh? What’d he do?”
“He’s just…he promises to show up for you and then he doesn’t even do the bare minimum.”
Something drops in my stomach. I knew that sort of disappointment firsthand. So had he not changed? “What was he s’posed to show up for?”
“My birthday,” she sets her cups down and leans on the countertop. “Don’t judge. It’s stupid holding this grudge over a birthday. But it also feels like more than just this?”
“Yeah.” I agree, waiting for the details.
“I’ve been having a shitty year, he knows about it. The group insisted I go big for my birthday they all planned it to help me feel better—Harry was all for it. Even came back early a few days to town to make it! Then. He didn’t make it and we couldn’t even reach him the whole day. Found out later he got so pissed he slept the day off. Oh. And he promised to help with drinks and cake so we had to scramble once we realized he ghosted us.”
“Jeez. Did he at least text you once he sobered?”
“No!” She laughs a bitter thing. “Didn’t remember or apologize until the day after.“
“Wow.” I can feel her hurt. Bad news.
“But he’s always like this! Promises something then finds something more fun…then he’s gone. And the rest of the guys are used to it—they forgave him. Ray thinks I’m being a girl about it because I won’t accept the half dozen ways he’s apologized-“
“That many? Seriously?”
“Yeah,” she chokes out a laugh. “Shite. I’m being the dickhead right? I mean he can be a good friend but sometimes you just feel like you’re more his friend than he’s yours? Ray told me he’s changed but I’ve not seen it.”
I nod. I got it. It felt like my final year at school, it was seeing him go off with another girl tonight, it was wondering if he was coming to the cinema watching film after film just for me or not.
Dana finishes off the drinks and leaves to come back with Ray and the group. They descend on her drinks and cake she’d pulled out of the fridge she was hiding with an enthusiasm that meant she’s done this for them before. That they probably all did this for each other—no wonder Harry’s actions stung.
It was sweet how much they compliment her and Ray thanks her until she rolls her eyes at her cousin and tells them all they had low standards before slipping out.
I go to follow her when she slips away, sliding off my stool, but Harry’s one of the taste testers and he corners me a couple meters from the exit. Great.
“Hey.”
He’s in a nice-fitting grey tee that shows his biceps off. Nice looking biceps with a couple tattoos. That I was not staring at.
“Hey,” I reply slowly.
“Y’have any?” He raises his mostly empty cup and empty plate.
“Yeah.” I try to relax my shoulders. This was just a casual convo. There were no expectations between us, just old classmates having a friendly convo at a house party. I wasn’t mad at him and I had no expectation. “She’s good!”
“Always has been. I tried complimenting her but…” I grimace at his words and his face droops. “She told you?”
“Sort of…”
“Did she—what do I do? What do I say? I don’t know why she’s this angry after I apologized. Did she say something?”
I shrug, “I couldn’t tell you even if she did.”
“Girl code,” he sighs.
“Or just being a good friend.” I take gender out of the equation. I would expect anyone I called a friend to behave the same way.
“Right,” he leans against the wall. “So no hints?”
“Well if you think she’s un-proportionately angry then maybe dig deeper. I dunno Harry.”
“You’re right. Of course you’re fucking right.” He runs a hand through his silky hair and the ghost of their memory slides over my hands.
I immediately take the distraction. “Cake. If you’re interested.”
“Ooh,” he tries to brush past me to get some. “And drinks.”
“J,” I stop him. “Maybe take it easy on the drink?”
“Why? Aren’t you driving us home?”
“That’s not what we agreed.” I glare.
“Well I can’t drive anyway. You’ve driving and I’m having another drink.”
“Jace.”
“You’re not my mum.”
“Fine. Your funeral,” I sigh, trying to breathe out the annoyance.
Harry is privy to the whole exchange and he looks amused when I look back at him.
“What?” I accidentally snap at him instead.
“Who’s that?”
“Jace? My cousin.”
His brows furrow and when he smiles next it spreads over his face slow like molasses and just as sweet too. “That’s your cousin?”
“Yeah? He’s staying with me this week. Obviously doesn’t get out often.”
He looks down, still smiling. “Here I thought you brought a date to the party.”
“A…date?” My eyes bulge out. “You thought Jace-“
It all made sense, I laugh. He thought I was here with Jace and Dana totally set that up.
“Is it that funny?” He chuckles.
“It is,” I pat his shoulder. I was going to find Dana and ask if she did that on purpose.
He turns to follow my steps and I slip away before he can ask me anything else.
***
I’m waiting outside the toilet. It’s been a few hours of socializing and getting to know people from school I’d barely said a few words to in all the years we were together. As fun as it was I was getting sleepy and decided to go home right after emptying my bladder.
The music downstairs is still going strong. There was karaoke at one point, a penny travelling around that I’d held my hand over my cup the whole time for, and memories passed around like a blunt. Most I wasn’t part of so it was fun hearing parts of school I knew about but didn’t experience. I missed my friends desperately though.
Jace had found a girl and a corner and when I walked upstairs they were cuddled into each other still talking. At least he wasn’t drinking—mum would kill me if I brought him home wasted.
“C’mon,” I mutter outside the door.
“Oh hey!” Harry exits from a room down the hall. “Hey!”
“Hi…” I notice his pacing and the stench coming off of him. I ignore the flashes of another party that overlays itself on the present.
I didn’t want to remember that. “Having fun?”
“A little,” he holds his hand up to show me a pinch between his fingers. “You left me or I would have had more fun.”
“Ah,” I nod. “Right. Laying it on thick of course. Weren’t you with a girl earlier?”
“What girl?” He leans on the wall beside me and his eyes look at me like he wants to skip the small talk and move to something else. As much as it makes my heart race, and a small part of me admits to missing the way it all felt, I was too sober for this.
“Really? Playing dumb isn’t cute Styles.”
“Fine. I don’t know where she is. Why? Jealous?”
I snort. “In your dreams babe. I just thought you had the trifecta you needed for your perfect night.”
“Yeah and was’tha?” He raises his brows.
“Drink, drugs, and a girl.”
“I’ve changed y’know, give me some credit.”
“So people keep saying. Haven’t seen it though so excuse me for thinking you’re the same old.”
He holds a hand to his heart. “I have changed. Like obviously I still like the booze and the drugs but any girl won’t do.”
He was such a dick. But I was also far from the cool, calm, collected girl I was trying to be—seeing him drunk was triggering something in me. “Being selective about the girl you choose for the night doesn’t mean you’ve changed. God.”
I don’t know why I feel as defensive as I do. He’s said things to me before. But they felt like lies, lies I had really wanted to believe.
“It does. I don’t just hang out with anyone now. That girl was nice but I wasn’t hanging out hanging out with her. I haven’t seen her in hours now.”
I hadn’t seen him in hours; he wasn’t with the group downstairs so I just assumed he was upstairs with her.
“Ok.” I find my chest tightening. Dangerous territories again.
“Ok.”
“You have a type now. Cool.”
“Yeah exactly.” He slurs. “Sh’was nice. But she wasn’t…well, you know.”
I raise a brow, “what?”
“C’mon y’know,” he scratches the back of his neck, not quite answering.
“No! What’re you on about?!”
“She’s not…she’s not you,” he says without looking at me directly.
You’re different. You make me feel different.
I stiffen and turn to face him fully, biting back the desire to push and see what else might come tumbling out. If he still meant those things. If the string tied in between us was still holding or a figment of my imagination. But as the tidal wave of thoughts and feelings crash over me, above it all—or maybe under it all, I just feel tired.
“That’s…a hell of a thing to admit.”
He runs a hand through his hair, meets my eye. “Is it?”
“Yes!”
“Thought it was obvious.”
Did he actually? Jeez.
Of course at one point I believed him—it may have seemed obvious then, but Harry was never transparent. He was always like a window fogged by a rainy day. And so far this summer he made it seem like we were old mates and everything was history. In comparison to what he’s just said it feels so far off and it’s crazy to me how he could have been so casual—how I could have misread how he felt, when really his stupid confession now is his drunken truth.
When I don’t reply he tips in to me and tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. “You grew your hair out.”
His hand traces the strand all the way down to my waist.
“Y-yeah.” My voice sticks. “I decided I liked it long.”
“I like it long too.” The strand of hair grows lighter as he lets go and places his hand on my waist instead.
My body reacts to his hand splayed on me even though I don’t want it to. Flashes of memories come rushing back, but mostly the feeling of being warm and seen in his arms.
He’s close now, close enough that I can smell him underneath the weed and whatever else happened in that room. I imagine if I tucked my face into his neck just a few inches away he would smell the exact same.
His breath catches too like I’m affecting him as much as he affects me.
Two thoughts occur to me: Dangerous territories. And: I wasn’t playing this game.
“That’s nice.” With every bit of willpower I have, I take his hand and remove it from my waist. I deserved more than this. “But what are you doing?”
He looks confused. “I…I just thought…”
“What? That you’re drunk or high? And you think because you find me here I’m just going to…”
He shrugs, has the decency to look ashamed for once. Growth? I was looking for it too much.
“God, you are the same old.” Maybe it was me who disappointed myself each time.
“What?” His eyebrows scrunch together. “What’s that mean, same old?!”
“This—you! You just…you come to me not sober and expect to like, pick up the thread from a lifetime ago? I don’t get it. We’ve had a year apart at uni and you think we’re just going to indulge in bad habits?”
“Woah,” he stands straighter and his height means I have to look up at him. “Why are you accusing me? You were giving me signs I thought…I thought…”
“I don’t know if you are thinking.” I cross my arms. “There are no signs—this is so you!”
“Explain.” He looks confused and my heart is beating too fast to even talk.
“I really have to spell it out—You don’t want to talk, to communicate or clear the air or-or even ask me anything seriously. Actually you want to be hot and cold with me ever since we saw each other this summer. And then when you’re high or drunk you want to confess these…these things to me that just make everything so confusing! Genuinely I don’t know what you want from me but if it’s just a shag that’s not…I don’t do that. I’m not going to be that girl for you anymore Harry.”
“You’re not that girl,” his voice grows gruff and he tries to tug my arms to uncross them. He tries to hold my hands, “You’ve never been that girl. I never said you were!”
“Great.” I shake his hands off and don’t admit what his words do to me, what his touch does. “So have a little decency. And respect. And stop coming on to me when you’ve had some liquid courage. When you can say things you don’t mean.”
“I do mean i-“
“No you don’t.” I cut him off. Either he was in denial or I was but I couldn’t find out tonight. “We haven’t seen each other in so long! And the last time we were talking i-it wasn’t great. You can’t go from that to this now, confessing bullshit after all this time. God—I’m tired of hearing your empty words and thinking they might mean something.”
“I didn’t…didn’t mean to. Hurt you or anything. M’sorry.”
The floor may as well have fallen out from under me. Harry’s just said sorry? And accepted it without a fight or being a dick about it? Jeez.
“Good.” I don’t even know what to do anymore. Normally I left in a cloud of emotions to escape him but suddenly we’re at a mutual understanding. And I still have to pee.
I turn awkwardly back to the closed door and decide I could wait to go at home. I didn’t want to be stuck here with Harry, afraid of what I might say in his clairty of vulnerability. I had to go home and sort out what all this meant.
“I’m gonna go home.” I announce. It comes out a little too loud and formal. At the exact same moment he asks, “Did’you wanna talk-“
The hall grows awkward.
“Oh,” he finally replies to me.
“Um, best not to.” So I reply to him. “I don’t…think there’s much sense to talk through it now. Not…ancient history.”
And I wasn’t lying.
But the way he made me feel now, and the fact that I have the knowledge of the things he confessed in the dark seared into my brain made my feelings for him now confusing.
There was a push and pull—push because I didn’t want to get hurt, because we were only here for a summer before we went back to uni and building the lives outside of this small town. And pull because of the things he’s said, the way he clearly still feels drawn to me the exact way I still feel drawn to him. That despite being this boy he was still the person that held me during dark times.
“Ancient history? You believe that?” His face holds cautious hope.
“Mostly.” I admit. Let that hope remain cautious.
We stand in a weird quiet for a second—too familiar to be strangers, too weighed down to be anything else.
He clears his throat and sticks his hand out. “So. Friends?”
I stare at his hand. Did I want to be friends—no, could I be friends with him? After our past, could I be friends with Harry?
But what choice did I have if I didn’t want my system to be so shot the entire summer. I would obviously be seeing him for the next couple months, and it was exhausting being the only one to bear the load of our past every time I saw him. Maybe I could forget the empty promises, the warm confessions. Maybe this was growing up.
I clasp his hand and chalk the tingle in my hand to static shock. “Sure. Whatever. Friends.”
“Thanks,” he says with eyes half closed in a smile. “I’ll see you around.”
“Probably.” I shrug. “Small town.”
He laughs and the sound echoes in my brain as I head down to find Jace. Oh god, I forgot the dopamine hit my nervous system took every time I made him laugh. How pathetic was I, I hope I made the right decision.
***Harry’s POV
I don’t know what I was thinking the last few weeks—that time healed all wounds and also sprinkled accountability into the wind? Or that somehow I could show her I changed by trying to remind her of what we could be while I had one too many drink and too many drugs in my system.
I’m tired of hearing your empty words and thinking they might mean something.
I didn’t want to be that guy but somehow that’s the guy I still was. I tried hard to grow up this last year; hooking up with any girl stopped being so appealing, I started wanting to find connection instead. I worked hard in football. I showed up to enough classes to take it all seriously and kept my grades up. I tried to say sorry when it was my fault.
I thought that’s what growing up was. But every time I was around her I always remembered the gap between how far I was from actually being grown-up. I forgot how much she made me want to be better. Not just for her, but for the people in my life. To hold myself to a standard.
And she might have said the shite between us was mostly ancient history but that didn’t mean I didn’t have other things to hold to this standard.
And the first person on my list to sort this out with was Dana.
I show up to her starting shift just as she’s walking through the doors.
“She’s not in today.” She says as she brushes past me.
“I’m not here for her. Dana.”
“I gotta clock in.” She just glances at me.
“I’ve been waiting here for you for half hour could I at least get a few minutes to talk?”
She turns, a blaze in her eye. “Wanna talk about waiting around?”
Shite. As much as it triggers my defences I was in the wrong here. I drop my head and sigh, frustrated at myself. I couldn’t get this right. “Yeah. I deserve that. And I’m sorry but you already know that. I don’t know what this turned into. Just tell me what it is you’re so mad at me about so I can try to make up for it?”
Her face loses its fury, she looks almost confused. It lasts a mere moment. “You’re a shitty friend.”
“You don’t believe that.” I missed one birthday was she really going to cut me off over that?
“I do.” She drops her shoulders, readying for an explanation. “For so long Harry…you know how hard it is for me to make friends. You took the time to understand me so I considered you one of my best friends even though you were kind a dick to the other girls at school. But I didn’t have a lot of friends and I bargained you were just a player. We cut through each other’s bullshit. I let it slide. A lot slide.”
“You won’t have to let anything else slide I’ll be more-“
“But I realized you never saw me as your close friend.” She cuts me off. “I didn’t even come close to that position in your life.”
“That’s shit and you know it.”
“No I know what I’m saying. Look, I know we’re gonna see each other around this summer, I’ll lay off. But I just don’t think we can be friends like that. It’s not fair to me.”
She leaves me with absolutely nothing to say. I’m so confused. She just wanted to stop being mates? Nobody did that.
“I can’t try!?” I try to catch up to her and I hear someone shout at me as I hop the ropes that are supposed to hold non ticket-holders back.
“Dana you know him?” The guy at the tickets station asks.
“Yeah, he’s leaving don’t worry.” She turns to reassure them. She looks back at me. “What?”
“You’ve just given up I can’t try to be better? You’ve made up your mind?”
“Pretty much I mean-“ she scratches her head and then fluffs her bangs out. “Take the last few weeks for example. I’ve always had a part time job here. You’ve never once dropped by or nothing. Then she starts working here and suddenly you’re like a movie buff—and what’s up with you and her anyway? I thought she dumped your arse back in the day?”
I don’t even know where to start. But she’s right I never came to the cinemas just to see her and I’ve been here a lot this summer because YN was working here and it didn’t seem like she hated me so I wanted to know if I could work up the courage to ask her to hang out or something. Not that it mattered anymore after my behaviour at the party, which was a shame.
“Nothing’s happening. We agreed to that at Ray’s party.” White lie, I hope Dana never finds out. “And yeah I’ve never come around here to see you. I didn’t realize you wanted that-“
“I don’t,” she sighs. “I don’t want that Harry. That would be creepy you showing up here just to see me.”
“What? You’re being confusing.”
“Ok look,” she throws her hands up. “It’s like, you did it for her and suddenly I see what you are capable of if you cared. Like you can put in effort into a relationship if you cared? And I’ve never seen that for me.”
“Hey I’ve let you call me whenever last semester to talk shit. And I’ve picked you up whenever you needed me to. And we always hung out at parties together back in school.”
“Because we were in the same place! And I appreciate all the rides but I asked you for them. And! Ray had to tell you about the shit I was going through for you to pick up my calls. Don’t you get it? You’re capable of giving a damn which made me realize you don’t give a damn about me!”
She’s breathing hard when she’s done and her words hit me like a tsunami. I understood why it was important to her but why did it matter so much.
“You know guys don’t even think about this shite.”
“Yeah why do you think men struggle the most with loneliness? And then become incels on the internet.”
“Why does this all matter so much to you if I promise to do better!”
“Seriously?” She looks at me like I’m an idiot and I probably am. “I don’t want friends that think I’m a bloody obligation. As shite as this last year has been I’ve also met people who never made me feel like I was second rate. They always showed up.”
It was true. Dana was a lot more of a butterfly the few times I’ve seen her this summer. All the times she called me…I don’t know if I’d ever called her.
“I-“
“What?” She asks.
“Well I want to say I’m sorry but I know it doesn’t mean shite to you.”
Her face softens; the eyebrows that were two sharp lines curve down and the corners of her mouth do too. “It does mean something alright? I appreciate hearing you say it. I just can’t be honest and say it’s fine.”
Was I good at anything? Have I even grown up? Shitty boyfriend, shitty hookup, shitty friend.
“Anyway I gotta go for my shift now I’m late.”
“Sorry.” I say automatically and we crack a rueful smile. Dana waves me off and my drive back home is in a cloud of feeling sorry for myself.
I decide not to go straight home. I drive around, up and down the high street, and through my old schools. As I turn up a street I spot a very familiar person and I perk up. She turns when she hears the rush of my speeding car.
“Hey!” I stop ahead of her and wave. Just realizing she’s on the phone.
“Hey!” She waves and mouths at me.
“Need a ride?” I ask.
“Hey-Ju-hey, one sec okay?” She says into the phone as she approaches my window. She leans into it, her phone pressed against her chest. “Hey! I’m actually on a walk on purpose?”
“Didn’t realize you were on the phone.” I whisper.
“That’s alright,” her smile is sunny. Despite screwing up at Ray’s party her smile is genuine and it warms my face. I actually believe her about being friends especially when she asks: “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I say too quickly. Lines form between her brows.
“You sure?”
“Yeah s’nothing,” I fake a smile. “Nothing I can’t work out. Now go back to your call. I’ll see you around.”
She reaches in and squeezes my shoulder. It shouldn’t be as touching as it is but I feel its imprint long after I drive away.
***Your OV;
I’m talking to somebody named Harmen in the kitchen of someone’s house I forget the name of the following Friday. It had been a busy week at work and I was supposed to be here with Dana but she took a shift change last minute with someone so she wouldn’t have to work Sunday. I didn’t blame her.
I could’ve just not shown but after getting my face ready and blow-drying my hair I thought at least a drink should be had before going home.
“But she said it doesn’t actually hit you until after uni.” Harmen says, we were talking about feeling like adults.
“Maybe we just changed one bubble for another,” I agree. “Like once we graduate and out of that bubble there’s not really anything else other than…Life.”
“Life.”
“Yeah like putting your big girl pants on and making decisions and shite.”
“Fuck me,” she rolls her eyes. “I suddenly want to chain smoke cigarettes.”
“Look at us having existential crises on a Friday night.”
“Lot of fun we are.” She laughs, the eyeliner around her eyes make them pop as she does emphasizing her hazel eyes.
“You’ve got lovely eyes by the way.” I tell her.
“Aw thanks,” she takes the compliment well. “The only good thing I got from my dad.”
“Cheers,” I hold my bottle to her and she clinks her cup to mine, a silent agreement to stop being such downers tonight.
“So you seeing still hitting that one?” She asks as Harry steps into view.
“Oh please don’t say it like that.” I cringe. “And no, not in-“
“Oh he’s looking-shit he’s coming this way. I’ll make myself gone.”
And just like that she deserts me and just like that, I’m exposed. No buffer or out. Only Harry, closing the distance between us with that tentative smile that used to make hating him harder.
I haven’t properly seen him since Tuesday, when he popped into the theatre with some mates and shouted my name, totally embarrassing me as everyone turned to look at him only to see him waving at me. I’d pretended not to know him which I know only made him happier.
But it was like we were old pals. Which I guess we were now. It still felt weird. Like he was trying to give me space after what I said by being friendly from afar. But now that he had backed off, it left this quiet gap. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.
He stops in front of me, one hand tucked into his hoodie, drink dangling from the other.
“I’m gonna take it as a good sign you don’t look like you’re gonna run away,” he says, voice low like he was scared any louder and I might just. I didn’t blame him.
“I’ll take it as a good sign you’re not slurring your words,” I fold my arms.
He grins, “S’too early in the night.”
“Still got time to embarrass yourself then? Or actually I should embarrass you here after what you did to me at work.”
“I was just calling your name.” He says innocently with a shit-eating grin on.
“Not at work,” I sigh. “I didn’t realize being friends meant putting up with your bullshit again.”
He smiles to himself, like he’s pleased. I take a sip of my drink, eyes flicking past him to the crowd and ask. “What was up with the other day?”
He tilts his head with a brow raised.
“When you were driving by. You looked—” I search for the right word, “—stressed.”
“Stressed?” He teases but when I don’t let him get away with it his smile dies down. “Just not my day.”
“It’s fine,” I say, even though it’s not. I know he’s avoiding being vulnerable probably because he’s not drunk yet. “You don’t owe me an explanation.”
He doesn’t reply straight away, then shrugs, trying for casual but it’s not sticking. “Dana. Tried sorting things out between us but…turns out they’re not. Might never be.”
“What’s that mean?”
He exhales through his nose. “Wish I bloody knew. She decided I’m a shitty friend and that’s it. No more chances.”
He doesn’t meet my eye while he tells me about it, my clue that he’s more affected by Dana cutting him off than his tone suggests.
I thought it was something she would get over. I figured if you were friends with him during his school years you could handle anything from him. Guess not.
“I’m trying to fix it,” he adds, a bit more defensively.
I believe he wants to fix it, which counts. I think. He looks back at me then, properly with something like surprise on his face.
“This is usually the part where you say something cutting?” He jokes, slicing the seriousness in half.
“Well,” I sigh. “I didn’t bring my cards to read from tonight so I’m all out of cutting.”
He lets out a breath, almost a laugh. “Lucky me.”
We stand in a silence that’s not entirely awkward but still holds a medium of anticipation. Like waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“So you just came by to chat, Styles?” I ask when it becomes too much.
“Yeah…” he side eyes me, hesitates, and continues. “I didn’t come over with some plan to make your evening hell.”
“Is that how you usually come up to me? Cuz that puts things into perspective…”
I catch his eye with a smile and he dips his head back with a laugh. When he looks back at me I have his full attention.
“No actually I just saw you and thought, maybe you wouldn’t hate it if I came over to chat?”
“Hm. I don’t,” I say tentatively. “Especially because you’re not even drunk yet!”
“Now that, I planned,” he grins.
“Good, you’re learning.” I pat his shoulder. Then I make myself clear even though I can’t say it with my full chest, “but I’m not looking to repeat history or anything.”
“I’m not either,” he says quickly. “I swear. That’s not what I’m doing.”
“Good.” I nod. “You weren’t too drunk the other night to forget you suggested we be just friends right?”
He clinks his empty bottle against my mostly full one. “Just friends. Of course.”
And in a not-so-friendly moment we lock eyes with each other and a thousand things bloom inside of me as the history between us swells into a tidal wave.
Then somewhere behind him, someone shouts over the music in a booming voice. It breaks the weird moment. We look away, slightly embarrassed—or at least I am. So much for putting my money where my mouth is.
“Now that I’ve lost a friend,” he sighs. “I’ve got a space to fill so our arrangement works perfectly.”
I scoff, glad for once at his perchance for turning serious moments into a joke, “I am not your friend rebound.“
Rebound. Not the best choice of word—we stiffen slightly but he uses his usual humour to deflect.
“Fine I’ll kick Someone else out to fit you in.”
“You’re quite stingy with your friends,” I comment.
“I’m selective. You’re stingy with yours you hung out with two girls for all of school.”
My jaw drops. “You did not just say that. Those are my best friends.”
“Yeah I’ve got those too, more than 2.”
“Then they’re not your best friends. It’s a very niche place in your life.”
“This is getting too girl-detail-y for me.”
“Too what?”
“The little details girls talk about? And they make these definitions about everything so they can categorize it all?”
I’m surprised at the accuracy of his observation. We did do that. He grins and leans into me, suddenly in my very personal space.
“I’m not just funny I’m observant too.”
“Babes,” I hope my racing heart isn’t obvious. “Your mum tell you that?”
His grin falters and mine grows, got him.
But neither of us wins as the tidal wave returns and we’re drowning in each other’s eyes again. Damn.
“I should go,” I say even though I had nowhere to be and nobody who was waiting for me at this party.
“Alright,” he says, stepping back like he knows not to follow. Baby steps, if we were to turn our history into just friends.
Maybe we’ll pretend we’re fine. Nothing weird, nothing heavy. Maybe we’ll be really good at it.
***
The mall attached to the theatre is always weirdly cold. It smelled like stale popcorn and Lush bath bombs, and everyone looks like they’re assaulted by the harsh lighting above.
I’m on break with an iced coffee in hand, still in my ugly polo. I had to cover for Lena last minute today and barely made it to work on time for it. It’s the first moment I’ve had to myself all day, and I’ve just managed to snag one of the benches near the cafe when I clock him.
Harry. And a girl.
Tall, brunette, cute of course. She’s flipping through a rack of magazines inside WHSmiths, looking annoyingly put together. She’s wearing whatever is the opposite of an ugly polyester staff polo.
Harry’s next to her, gesturing at something in the magazine, then laughing like he’s said the most hilarious thing in the world.
As I get more of her face I recognize her from the last few weeks—he’s brought her to watch movies before.
My stomach twists stupidly.
You’re friends now, that’s what you wanted. I tell myself. You agreed to friends knowing he has a rotation of girls.
I sip my shitty coffee and look away.
He was going to hang out and hook up with more girls than I’ll be able to count. That’s what guys like that did and being his friend just meant accepting it. The whole purpose of this was knowing I would see him all summer and trying to do the mature thing to—
“Oi,” comes his voice, cutting through the thoughts in my head.
I look up. He’s spotted me and he’s walking over. Alone.
I pretend like I just noticed him. “Oh. Hey.”
“You on break?”
I glance down at my polo. “No, I just wear this sort of thing for fun. It’s like—retail-core?”
He grins. “I have no idea what any of that means weirdo.”
“Says the guy who just came up to me to chat.” My eyes flick back to where he came from damnit. I wasn’t supposed to know.
“That’s my sister,” he says, nodding back toward the girl still inside, still reading something in the magazine.
I hesitate. “Your... sister?”
“Yep. Her car’s in the shop so I’m here to drive her and keep her company while she finds a card for one of her friends who had a baby? She’s sort of having a crisis about that.”
I glance over at the girl again. She’s now holding up a massive glittery card with a fortune teller’s ball whose huge font I can make out saying “I see shits and giggles…”.
“How old is she?”
“She’s a few years older than us. This friend’s like 24 though.”
I try to act casual, like I didn’t spend the last sixty seconds making myself feel okay that he was with a date at the mall. I take a sip of my coffee that’s mostly just watery ice now.
He studies me in the silence. “Wait—you think she was a date?”
“What? No,” I say, far too quickly. “When did I—Why would I think that?”
He raises an eyebrow. “Bit defensive.”
“Bit full of yourself.”
He grins wider, clearly enjoying himself. “You did though. You totally did.”
“I didn’t even see her properly. Or you! She just looked too young to have mom-friends.”
“You were going to have a cry in the loo after this weren’t you?”
“Wow! You just wish that’s what was happening here.”
“You’re such a bad liar!”
“You’ve just got a shite lie detector. Why would I even care who that was—I just didn’t know you had a sister! Anyway, don’t you have someone else to harass?” I was saying too many words but they just keep coming out.
“You’re my only victim today.”
“No wonder you’re here with your sister.” I roll my eyes, but I don’t tell him to leave. He’s got that easy energy—like we used to before our expectations of each other turned us into other people.
“Yeah and?” He scrunches his brow.
I regret saying it as I have to explain the joke, “Not with a date otherwise they’d be another victim? Nevermind.”
I pray the awkwardness isn’t as transparent as my lies are to him.
“So that wouldn’t-“ He cuts himself off and laughs to cover up a strange vibe coming off of him. “That wouldn’t bother you?”
Oh my god. “If you brought a date to the mall!?” I try to go for unbothered.
“Yeah-“
“Dude we talked about this—we’re just friends. I don’t care who you hook up with. Haven’t in a long time.”
“So you did once upon a time,” he quirks a brow.
“Not the point.” I kick his foot.
“I know,” he shuffles aside and turns to look over his shoulder in the direction of his sister. “I know. Just confirming.”
“Actually if you brought a girl to the mall of all places I’d think it’s sad.”
That eases some of the weird energy that had seeped in.
He glances down at my coffee. “Well that coffee looks sad.”
“It is.” I swirl the watery dredges. “They were running out of ice so I’ve got lukewarm regret.”
He laughs, loud enough that a passing mum glances over, frowning at the noise.
From inside the shop, his sister also hears and looks over at him to wave him over with two cards in the air. He puts a thumb up and starts to step away.
“Duty calls—I’ll let you get back to your break,” he says, flashing that same lopsided smile that’s been getting people into trouble since Year 7.
“Cheers Styles,” I say, trying not to look so bummed he was leaving. Trying even harder not to feel anything at all.
He pauses, twisting his mouth, “I do have a first name.”
“And?” I ask, knowing where he might be going.
“You’re doing this on purpose.” He concludes after studying my face. “I see...”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” I feign ignorance but my mouth betrays me, twitching into a smile.
“So you say.” He studies me for a second longer as he walks backwards to where his sister is. “it really is a lot nicer talking when you’re not storming away in the middle YLN.”
He grins when I roll my eyes, knowing he was too far for a retort. And then he’s gone leaving behind the same weird pull he always does—like a tiny speck of me left with him and the rest of me wants to catch up to it.
***
The living room’s packed with bodies and the TV's on full volume for a match everyone's acting like is life or death. I’m perched on the arm of a sofa, nursing the same drink I’ve had for the past hour, watching a group scream at the players like they’ve personally trained them.
Dana’s off somewhere with someone she met near the drinks table—tall, tattooed, and flirty as hell. They were deep in conversation last I checked, leaning into each other like no one else existed, thus sitting here nursing my drink.
I feel someone step up beside me.
“Fancy you here,” Harry says, voice pitched lower than usual. “Haven’t seen you around all week.”
I look up. “Yeah I wasn’t in town.”
Truth was mum and dad had been doing my head in so I’d headed off early on my visit to Nan. It had been exactly what I wanted, summer days in the bungalow Nan lived in with her sister. And both of them, glowing with a tan, keeping me entertained with quiet chatter about their Florida trip, while I exchanged stories from work.
I’d also complained about living at home again, they had told me I needed to talk to other humans outside of work so I had taken Dana up on this party. It was a mix of people I went to school with who were home for the summer, the year before us, and friends of all these people. The room I was in mostly was filled with our school’s football team.
“Everything alright?” He asks with genuine concern.
I smile, “yep. Just visiting family. Back to regular scheduling now.”
Being home again I’d also gotten lonely. It had gotten to a point where I was asking myself what I was doing with my life and if I should have stayed for a summer semester rather than come home. I was gripped with a realization that my life felt both overwhelming and small at the same time.
And above it all, I began to question why I didn’t have a boyfriend or someone to call mine. It was probably the hormones but seeing Harry tonight makes my stomach do some flips. It must be the leftover hormones.
Harry smiles at what I’ve said. His eyes flick past me. Just for a second, and it dies down. He shifts slightly to the right.
“You avoiding someone?” I ask.
I follow his gaze, even though I already know. Dana’s on the other side of the room now, laughing at something Tattoo Arms said, head thrown back.
“She’s not going to curse you from across the room, if that’s what you’re worried about,” I say.
He frowns. “Wasn’t looking at her.”
“Right.”
He sighs. Scrubs a hand through his hair. “Okay. Maybe I was.”
I let that sit for a second. Then I motion with my hand, like go on.
“She’s really acting like we never used to be mates.”
“She did say she’d do that. Since you stood her up.”
“I know! I’m reminded every time I try to talk to her. I tried to make it up to her!”
“Your issue’s not with me stop shouting,” I scold.
“Sorry,” his volume goes down by half. He looks at me then, properly. “But I know. I was just being—me, I guess. Didn’t think it’d matter that much. Now we’re bloody strangers.”
I don’t say anything.
He shifts on his feet. “She used to annoy me all the time…we annoyed each other, but we were friends. And now I see her and she acts like I’m the creepy lad who tried it with her in Year 10.”
I bite back a smile. “Did you?”
“Maybe,” he mutters.
I laugh once, but he looks really upset. I feel bad. “Wanna go somewhere else?”
He blinks. “What?”
“Not like that jeez. I mean to talk. Properly. I can’t hear a thing over whatever’s happening behind me.”
We find a half-lit hallway upstairs—sloped ceilings and dozens of family photos on the wall. He stands with arms folded, back against an empty part of the wall. I stand in front of him.
“I know I messed up,” he says eventually. “But it’s like…I thought she’d be pissed for a bit, send a few jabs my way, and then we’d be back to normal. She’s always been there—always ready to tell me off for being a dick. I thought that meant she didn’t need much back. She never said anything.”
“She shouldn’t have to.”
“I’m starting to get that,” he mutters. “But none of my other mates care this much. They don’t expect me to be some emotional support person.”
“Have you ever asked? Maybe they do mind but they know not to expect much from you.”
He tightens his jaw and then sighs. “That makes me sound like a proper dick.”
I let the silence answer.
I study him. “So what are you gonna do about it?”
“I don’t know,” he says, exasperated. “She said she’s done. What am I supposed to do—send her a fruit basket and a six-paragraph apology?”
“Might be a start,” I joke.
He huffs a laugh. Then, quieter: “It’s not just Dana. It’s…like I keep thinking about all these people I let down…makes me feel shitty.”
That one catches me in the chest; it’s rare he’s so unfiltered when he’s sober, rarer he isn’t following this up without the usual joke waiting to follow.
I nod. “It’s not too late to change.”
“Not for Dana,” he says.
“Maybe not for everyone else.”
He looks at me like he wants to ask what that means. I want him to. But he doesn’t.
I might be projecting on the conversation a bit but it feels natural place to rest my opinion. So I keep going, “She’s allowed to be angry. She’s allowed to decide she deserves better friends.”
“I never meant to make her feel like she didn’t,” he mutters.
“I know. But intention doesn’t undo impact.”
He winces, and I don’t mean to sound harsh—but I’ve seen too many boys like him coast through life thinking charm covers everything. Harry’s not cruel. He just hasn’t learned yet that being a good friend takes effort.
Or maybe he hasn’t even learned that commitment means seeing things through.
“You want to fix it?” I ask.
He looks at me then. Serious. Like what I’m going to tell him next was gospel.
“You don’t get to do one grand gesture and have it all go back to normal,” I tell him and as the words unfurl from me I realize it’s what I wish I could tell him-the version of me that wanted a version of him. “Just…be better. Consistently. Even when no one’s watching. Stop focusing on how to get her to forgive you, and start showing up like someone who should be forgiven.”
There’s a long pause. Then: “That’s annoyingly smart of you.”
I nod. “Yeah, I’ve been told.”
He grins, but it’s softer now. The silence settles again, but this time it feels different—like the molecules between us had been shifting between us when we weren’t watching and this conversation had just slotted them into place. Something's shifted.
“I dunno why I’m telling you all this. Sorry.” There goes those apologies again
I settle into the wall beside him as someone walks down the hall.
He glances sideways. There’s still so much unsaid between us; so much history neither of us fully understands. But right now, in the hush of a stranger’s home, he’s vulnerable. And I’m listening.
“You’ve gotten all soft on me now haven’t you?” He suddenly says, trying to inject some humour.
“What?” I’m not sure where he’s going.
“Well look at you! You’re giving sage wisdom to the boy you swore was a dickhead.” He turns to face me, flashing those eyes. My heart skips a beat, and I hope I’m not blushing.
“Oh, piss off,” I mutter, trying to sound sharp, but there’s no bite behind it. “If I said them, I wouldn’t use past tense, would I?”
He raises an eyebrow, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Getting all technical on me just to win the point.”
I shake my head.
Our smiles die down and suddenly it’s like we’re both aware of this new yet familiar quiet that’s settled between these versions of us.
A few people walk past us, there must be another party room up here. Downstairs Frank Ocean plays, too slow for the party’s momentum but with how loud the TV is (I can hear it from here) it probably doesn’t even matter. Still, Frank’s voice pierces a tender part of my heart like it usually does.
I look over at Harry, watching the way his expression shifts as the silence hangs. That easy smirk fades just slightly.
I knock my elbow into him; light, playful. “Good song, this one.”
“Yeah. I’ve got his vinyls.” A small sheepish smile tugs at his lips, like he didn’t expect me to break the tension first. “Even the ‘bad’ one.”
I snort.
Silence again as the song plays to an end. The voice on the record speaks to something sitting in my heart right now. But we're so okay here, we're doing fine.
“Not judging you, by the way,” I say, keeping my voice casual but soft.
“Is that new?” He teases, but there’s something hesitant behind his words.
“Hey, I really try not to judge people when they’re down.”
I hesitate for a second, but the words spill out before I can stop them. “I remember when…” I trail off, not entirely sure how to say it. But the vulnerability he’s shown tonight makes me feel like I can do the same. “One night long ago, when I was at my lowest...and you didn’t judge me one bit.”
He goes still, and for a moment, I wonder if I’ve said too much. But then, he nods, brushing my hand with his knuckle before dropping his hand back to his side. Like he was accepting this could be safe grounds for us in this new space.
"Don’t worry, it’s not pity. Just...I get it." I finish.
His gaze lingers for longer than usual. It’s hard to explain, but in that look, there’s understanding—like he finally sees that I meant it about being around each other. Of being more than our past.
And yet, I feel that familiar feeling. The one that wouldn’t mind getting swept up in this—him. The one that wouldn’t mind waking up in bed next to him, warm and soft. Holding him. Being cared by him.
It’s dangerous, that feeling. Just humming under the surface. It reminds me of all the other quiet moments between us; so against his natural disposition of loud and brash and boyish—maybe that’s why it’s lured me in so deep and never quite given me a full respite.
“Shall we rejoin the fun downstairs?” I ask, clearing my throat, pushing the thought away before it settles too deep. It had to be the hormones.
“Yeah,” he says, pushing off the wall. “It’s getting bloody depressing up here.”
“Harry Styles depressed at house parties? There’s no way.”
He gasps. “Ah sarcasm.”
I start walking toward the stairs. “Don’t act like you haven’t missed it.”
He follows, “I live for it. Someone’s gotta keep me humble.”
I glance over my shoulder. “You’re not nearly as humble as you think you are babe.”
He chuckles, that soft, boyish one I like so much.
By the time we hit the bottom step, neither of us is really laughing anymore. The music from the kitchen is louder now, the noise of people existing in a world that felt miles away in the quiet upstairs.
“Sick lad, s’cuse!” someone barks, barreling up the stairs with a grim-looking kid in tow, clutching their stomach like they’re seconds from redecorating the hallway.
I instinctively step back to dodge them—straight into Harry. His arm goes up without thinking, hand landing at the small of my back to steady me.
“Careful,” he mutters, low and close to my ear.
I freeze for a second, the warmth of his palm seeping through my shirt, keeping me steady.
“Thanks,” I say, glancing up at him, trying to sound offhanded. Like my heart hadn’t just tripped over itself.
“No worries. Woulda caught you either way,” he says, flashing that grin—less cocky this time.
We both hesitate. The hall suddenly feels much narrower.
“Did he make it!?” Someone shouts as they barrel towards the stairs after the other two. The moment cracks.
I step forward, slipping out from under his hand, giving him a quick look over my shoulder. “Come on, then. Let’s go pretend we were getting drunk.”
“How drunk?” He slings his arm around my shoulder and I convince myself to feel friendly feelings only.
We barely make it through the kitchen threshold before we bump into Dana. One glance at the proximity between us and she raises a brow.
“You two look cozy.”
“Oh,” I laugh—too quickly—and instinctively inch away from Harry. I don’t even mean to, it just happens. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. His jaw’s tight. Bollocks.
“Just hashing it out,” I say, trying for breezy.
“Is that what we’re calling it now?” Dana says, her tone light, but laced with something sharper; not just annoyed. She’s hurt.
“Seriously,” I elbow Harry gently, trying to make up for the sudden step away. “He was just feeling a bit shite, so we were talking.”
“Woman gives man free therapy,” Dana replies, coolly. It lands heavier than it should. Like a jab she’s been saving.
Before Harry can respond, Tattoo Arms reappears, drinks in hand—and hands one to Dana. The conversation shifts around me but I’m still thinking about the way Harry tensed when I stepped away. The way Dana’s tone turned brittle. And the fact that, even now, he’s still standing beside me.
Just close enough to notice we’re together here. Not quite close enough to touch.
---
Of course, Dana doesn’t let that go. On our next shift together, she corners me in the break room, arms crossed, looking like she’s about to start a fire.
“You and Harry getting on now?”
“Jeez, what are you now? The Harry police?” I try to keep the sarcasm in check, but it's not easy.
“No.” She snaps back, voice sharp. “I just—he treated you like shite in school. I’m just looking out for you.”
I bristle at that, the old frustrations rising, but I know it's not entirely about Harry anymore. There’s something else under the surface. I force myself to keep my tone calm, even though it’s hard. “We’ve come to a mutual understanding, Dana. I’ve said my piece, and he’s listened.”
Her lips press into a thin line. “So…shagging now?”
The question hits me like a punch, and I nearly shout, “No! Oh my god, no.” I let out a breath, trying to center myself. “I’ve made it clear. We’re just staying friends. Why are you grilling me? You sound like Juni.”
“Well, Juni has good instincts,” she retorts, crossing her arms tighter. “I just don’t want you to become another one of his casualties.”
I freeze. “Too late for that. Anyway Dana, are you seriously still this upset with him? That you’re now policing who his friends are? Like, what’s going on here?”
She doesn’t answer at first, just chews on her bottom lip, like she’s struggling with something inside. After a beat, she sighs and looks away, clearly uncomfortable. I soften my voice.
“Look, maybe you should just talk to him.”
Her eyes flick back to me, sharp, and she leans against the wall with a heavy sigh, frustration seeping out of her in a slow leak.
“I don’t want to talk,” she mutters. “I’m just being a bitch. It’s easy when I have a target.”
I wait for more, but there’s only silence between us.
“I just…” Dana swallows, and I see her struggle with the words. “I am serious about not wanting to see you get hurt, though. I know what he’s like. Maybe I’m more mad that you decided to become friends with him when I’ve told him to get lost.”
I soften, my voice quieter now. “I get it, Dana. I’m not an idiot I know what he’s like too. First hand. But he’s trying, you know? To be friends with me. I haven’t got the energy to be mad at him and hold onto high school shite. He’s still the same guy but he’s trying. I can see it. If he pulls any of his usual rubbish he knows I’ll be gone faster than he can say sorry.”
“Doesn’t mean he’s changed,” she mutters under her breath. Then, after a moment’s pause, her shoulders drop a fraction, and she looks me in the eye. “You’re really sure about this, though?”
“Yeah. I’m sure.”
She nods slowly, her expression unreadable for a moment before a small, almost imperceptible smile tugs at her lips. “I never would have imagined this dynamic ever. Life’s a mad joke.”
Was it ever.
---
The doorbell rings unexpectedly, pulling me out of the quiet hum of the afternoon. I wasn’t expecting anyone—my parents are still at work, and I haven’t made plans. I pull open the door, and there he is, standing on the threshold, hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets like he’s trying to look casual but he’s too wound up so he’s failing.
“Harry?” I blink in surprise. “Wha-what are you doing here?”
He shrugs, his usual smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Got bored, figured I’d see what you’re up to. You free?”
I glance behind him, expecting to see someone else or a reason for him to be here, but there’s nothing. He’s just…here. And it’s oddly familiar. “Uh, yeah, sure. Why not?”
He steps in without waiting for an invitation. An old comfort settles between us, but there’s also nerves—or that’s just me.
“Cool,” he says, kicking off his shoes and making himself at home. “Wait. You wanna grab coffee actually? I’m in the mood for a walk.”
“Yeah alright. I’m down.” I grab my bag from the kitchen, my heart still trying to catch up with the fact that he’s here, unannounced. Best to get out of this house.
We walk out of out neighbourhood. I point out the street my Nan lived on and the spot where I crashed my bike in Year 4 and had to get stitches. He tells me about the time he fell off a playground slide and lost his tooth.
Soon we settle into a comfortable silence as we walk down the high street, the familiar energy of the place wrapping around us. People are out, in and out of shops, and the scent of coffee hangs in the air as we near our spot.
“Plain coffee?” He asks me. “Or matcha?”
“Matcha,” I say and we go up to order. The barista asks Harry what kind of coffee he wants. I tell him how I love light roast and he tells me I needed help. The barista hides her smile when he gets really into it.
We take our drinks outside to sit on one of the benches along the street. The place is bustling, but it’s still calmer than usual.
“So,” Harry starts, his voice casual, but there’s something about the way he looks at me that makes it feel like he’s not just making small talk. “What’s been going on with you? You’ve dropped off earth this week again. I thought maybe you had enough of me and left town.”
I sip my drink, and study the casual humour masking his worry underneath—that I’d decided I had enough of him.
I try to come up with something that feels right. Truth was, I’d become a shut in after the last party. I hated how it felt like I was between Dana and Harry. But I also hated how much of my thoughts Harry took up after these parties—we were just supposed to be friends and yet my mind kept snagging on the accidental brushes and the way his eyes seemed to communicate with mine in the silence. So yeah he may have a point and I might have been sort of avoiding him.
“Just keeping busy.” I lie a little. “Been home with my parents a lot which drives me a little crazy.”
“Yeah it was a bit of an adjustment being home again.” He agrees.
“It feels like slotting back into a you-shaped place but it’s suddenly suffocating, whereas before it fit better.”
He leans back, squinting into the sun. “Bollocks you’re good with words. That’s exactly how it feels.”
I shrug the compliment off and hope it doesn’t replay in my head later. “Yeah, I guess. It was nice having some space this last year, y’know? After everything with my grandparents.”
His brow furrows slightly. “You mean, your grandpa?”
“Yeah.” I nod, taking a deep breath. “My grandma moved away to be with her sister since my grandpa...”
“Yeah,” he nods and I’m grateful I don’t have to say the words. Even though I’ve come to terms with it now saying it always felt so weird. And of course Harry always knows how to smooth out these sort of wrinkles.
“So it’s been…different. I didn’t realize how much I took for granted, you know? Like having family around, and the way they kind of keep things in place.”
Harry listens quietly, nodding as he sips his coffee. “Losing family, and then even more with your grandma move away is hard.”
“Yeah, it’s been strange. I guess I didn’t realize how much I’d rely on…I dunno now it just feels like everything’s changed. Even at home. It’s different, but I don’t know… I guess I’m getting used to it?”
I was getting used to it but sometimes, like today sitting on this bench in the bright sun like I used to with Grandpa sometimes just to get him on a walk. It’s an ache that flows through me and my sensitivity varies daily.
Harry’s gaze softens, and he leans forward a little. “I get that. You don’t realize how much of your life is tied up in small things—family routines and stuff. Until it’s not there.”
I nod, looking out at the street, watching people pass by. I can’t look at him and have such a vulnerable conversation just yet. “Yeah. I feel like I should’ve had more time with him? But at the same time I’m grateful for every moment we had together. It just felt difficult to see that back then. And I think I needed this time away—last year. To figure out who I am outside of all it.”
Harry knocks his knee gently into mine. It echoes into my chest. “Uni’s been that way for me too. It was weird being away from this small world we knew but it’s been good for me! Not just as a break, but more like…a reset. You figure out what’s…like, what belongs to you and not everyone else?”
“Oh my god yeah. I’ve thought about that a lot,” I admit, his words mirroring my thoughts. “About what I left behind versus what I gained by leaving? I also got left behind in a way so there’s that too. But then it’s like, what do I want to take with me?”
He nods, like he understands. “Yeah. You start figuring out what matters to you only. What you want, who you are when no one’s watching.”
I smile softly, feeling a sense of calm that I didn’t expect to find with him. Maybe it’s hearing the inside of his mind so clearly and realizing we’re both figuring out our own things. It’s nice talking with this quiet understanding.
“Exactly. Like, I’m not just the person I was back home. I’m still me, but different.”
“In a good way.”
“In a good way,” I affirm.
“I guess that’s why we don’t fit as well when we’ve come back.” He smiles but it’s a rueful thing.
We both sit in silence for a while, just letting the words hang in the air, feeling the truth in them. I hadn’t expected this conversation, but I’m glad it happened. There’s something reassuring about sharing this space with someone else who gets it—who’s also learning how to be themselves and vulnerable enough to share.
***
I’d been trying to do work drinks once a week ever since the first offer just to keep up a social life. It was Lena’s birthday yesterday but she works today so we make a bigger deal of drinks. Juni’s finally back in town this week—after doing a mini catchup before work the other day we’d been trying to find more time to hang out. I invite her to drinks and turns out people had invited a lot of random friends too.
We get to be too many people for the pub so we take the herd to get drinks and pile up to a local outdoor spot through a grove that saw a lot of parties with the number of chairs and bottle littered about. We settle under the evening sky and I introduce Juni to a few new friends.
While Juni and Dana get to know each other I tell them I’d grab drinks for us.
I send a mental blessing to whoever brought the chilled beer and cupcakes—I manage to source just one. I tuck the bottle against me, the chilled temperatures a shock against my chest but it feels good as it settles. The central AC had been broken in part of the building for half my shift and I’d been disgustingly sweaty for all of it. I’d had to change my shirt for a spare tank once I got to my car.
I do a double take at the familiar smiling face as I walk back to my friends. It takes a second to register Harry had made his way to this get-together and he was flirting with Lenae who I’m pretty sure was a couple years younger.
Not that it mattered to him I guess.
In the cloak of the growing darkness I watch him, his hand trailing down her arm. She laughs at whatever he says. His hands on his waist as he nods and continues his story.
Meanwhile, despite the chilled bottles, my heart feels like it melts down into a puddle by my feet.
This was how it was supposed to be, I tell myself. Harry and I just friends; him doing his thing with other girls—quite frankly I’m surprised I didn’t see more of this this summer. But I guess we’d hung out at most parties I showed up for. He was probably with 2 girls for every party I wasn’t at.
This shouldn’t bother me. He wasn’t mine. Never was.
I go back to my friends.
“Ooh!” Juni reaches for the cupcake first which would normally have made me laugh more. “We were wondering what was taking you so long!”
“How come I don’t get one?” Dana asks.
“Well Juni took mine so I don’t even get one.” I shrug.
“Oh sorry!” She says but she bites into it anyway getting frosting on her nose. We laugh, this time it comes out naturally. Maybe I’d be okay—maybe it was just the shock of seeing him with someone.
“What’s the laugh about?” somehow Harry has spotted and walked up to us in the few minutes it’s taken to pull myself together.
And he comes with gifts.
“This is totally a bribe.” Dana turns her nose up to the box of cupcakes with 3 left inside.
“Oh Juni’s already got one.” Harry says.
“Oh remember my name now do you?” Juni says with all bark no bite. I’d filled her in a little about the truce Harry and I had but hadn’t had enough time with her to tell her the details.
“I’ll never forget it,” Harry smiles his charming one at her. She rolls her eyes and continues enjoying her cupcake.
“Thank you,” I take a red velvet and wait for Dana but she refuses to take one.
“Dana c’mon,” I nudge her. Juni looks between us—this was one of the details she didn’t know about. “It’s not like there’s strings attached.”
“What’s going on here?” Juni asks—straightforward like she always is. “Did you two hook up or something?”
“No!” Dana glares and Harry throws his head back laughing. I can’t help but giggle which earns me a glare from Dana.
“Not in a while,” Harry says knowing full well how Dana will react.
“We’ve never hooked up!”
“There was that time when we were 15,” Harry goes on one knee and holds the cupcake box out to her. “It’s been unrequited since. Dana. Accept this cup-“
“I’ll tip you over.” Dana threatens.
“Oh my god,” Juni leans over and plucks a vanilla out. She boops it onto Dana’s lips making her short-circuit and Harry fall to his ass laughing.
“What the fuck!” Dana says.
“What!” Juni holds it out to her. “Now you have to eat it. C’mon I saw you eyeing it. I can feed it to you if you don’t want to touch it.”
Dana blushes and I try my absolute hardest to hold my laugh in. I missed Juni so much.
In the end, Dana takes the cupcake and enjoys it with her beer. Juni asks her if she wants to chat about it and I tell Juni I’d catch up later. I’d heard the drama rehashed a dozen times this summer—Dana could fill her in alone.
But then that left me with Harry alone.
“That was seriously the funniest thing that’s happened all summer.”
“Yeah you’re having a right laugh at Dana.” I cover my mouth before I start laughing but I can’t help picturing her face after Juni touches the frosting to her lips. Harry can tell because as soon as we make eye contact we’re falling into each other laughing hysterically and trying to muffle it so it doesn’t travel.
“This is why,” I wipe my tears. “I love Juni. She’s just so no-nonsense.”
“I’m not laughing at Dana by the way,” Harry says. “She’s just been so serious with me all summer this reminded me of something from back in the day. I needed this.”
“God,” I press my palms into my eyes. “I haven’t laughed this hard in ages.”
“I’m glad you stayed,” he says in a tone that doesn’t quite match the moment we just had. I look up at him. “With me here.”
“Oh.” I don’t know what to say to it. I just didn’t want to listen to Dana complain again? I got stuck with you?
“I have a proposition.” He senses the awkwardness and pivots.
“What?” I try to keep up.
“You’re holding my favourite flavour. I’ve got this vanilla one. I propose we split each in half.”
“But what do I get?” I hold mine closer to me. “I don’t want vanilla.”
“You get to make me happy.”
“What!?” I shout. “What does that get me though! That’s a shite deal.”
“It’s a good deal,” he comes in closer. “You know you want to. You make me happy and I make you happy in return.”
“Haven’t you heard? My best friend’s back in town I don’t need anybody to make me happy.” I say but my voice grows strained as he leans in closer. An image of him doing the same thing to Lena pops into my head but I keep my expression glued to my face.
I’m so focused on not letting my face betray my emotions that I don’t catch him in time. He jerks forward and takes a bite of the cupcake I’m holding.
“Harry!” I push him away but it’s too late, my cupcake is 1/3 of what it was. “What the hell! That was more than half!”
“You didn’t agree to half! I had to take more!” He laughs with his mouth full.
“Gross,” I pretend to be more annoyed than I am simply because my heart is racing way too fast. “I don’t even want this anymore.”
“You know there’s more of those down there?” Lena says from behind Harry. He turns around and I see her pointing to a chair some feet away.
“Oh,” Harry steps back so she can join us. “I know I just wanted to eat that one.”
Lena assesses the two of us, I’m guessing for history. I drop the eaten cupcake into the box Harry still holds and look as disgusted as possible. I didn’t want us to come off as anything other than friends, I don’t know why it matters so much right now.
“You can have it all.” I say. “I’ll get a new one thanks Lena.”
“Yeah,” she smiles now. I must have done a good job at acting. “It’s my treat. Now d’you mind if I steal him?”
“Yeah go ahead!” I nod and avoid looking at Harry which I realize only makes it weird so I do look at him and he’s rigid like he’s got a shovel up his shirt.
“Sorry,” she turns to him. “I hadn’t seen those girls in a while so I had to say hello.”
“Oh that’s uh, that’s alright.” He snaps out of it.
She tilts her head to the side, to where she wants him to follow. He nods and holds up a finger and walks towards me. She eyes us again but must not find what she’s looking for so she steps away.
“You sure-“
“Yeah,” I cut him off. Be normal. “You go do your thing. I’ll find the girls.”
“You don’t mind-“
“Harry,” I take a step back to make more space, wrapping my arms around my waist. “A cute girl’s asking you to the side on her birthday. The Harry I know wouldn’t be hesitating.”
“The Harry you know...” He says, more to himself. I want him to be real again, to tell me it’s different. He doesn’t.
I continue blabbing, “I saw you two flirting earlier don’t kid just go!” I flick my hand and then a little louder I announce, “I’m gonna get another cupcake.”
I throw Lena one last smile and head for the cupcakes, but it’s hard to even swallow as I wander around to find Juni.
I didn’t want him to leave, on a really deep level I wanted him to stay. I wanted him to eat the rest of the cupcake out of my hands and then kiss me so all I tasted was icing sugar. I wanted to invite him to my car and just sit with him in the warmth, maybe curl into him, and have him tell me what I meant to him if anything at all. I want to ask him why he looked sad going. If anything had really changed or if we were just fooling ourselves.
My head swirls, and my heart spins out as I finally find Juni and Dana. I don’t know what my face looks like but they look worried as soon as they turn to me and rightly so. I turn and throw up on the side of the tree, chunks of red velvet burning the back of my throat as it comes up.
That cupcake was too good to be true.
***
My parents are finally out of town for the next couple weeks and I savour the bliss of having the house to myself. Juni stays over a few nights and we have a major debrief. We loop Rhia in on a facetime call and we finally hear all the details about Juni’s romantic summer.
I spot Harry a couple times at the mall that week. The first time we wave from where we are but neither of us go up to the other. I recognize only a couple friends he’s with.
The other time I’m browsing the WHSmith—mum had given me a giftcard for some reason before she left so I was looking for books I’d need next semester.
“One sec,” I hear his words before I see him. I turn from the shelf as he approaches me, recognizing his mum a few rows down. She watches us and when she catches my eye I smile awkwardly.
“Sorry my mum,” he turns to look at her when he sees me smiling at someone behind his shoulder.
“Right that’s why you’re here otherwise you wouldn’t be caught dead in a store with books.” I say.
“For your info,” he settles in. “I do like reading. I’ve ready Harry Potter. And I’ve read Twilight.”
“Twilight?!” I raise my brows. “Wow.”
“I couldn’t help it. Everyone talked about it at school growing up.”
“So are you here for Colleen Hoover or something?” I ask.
“Who?”
I shake my head, smiling at my own joke. “Nothing. Nevermind.”
“You finally moving on from the magical thinking thing?” He asks.
“What?”
“The-that book? You were reading at the cafe…”
“Oh!” I’m surprised he remembered. But then again, when he wanted to pay attention to you he was very good at it. “Eh I haven’t finished it. Yet.”
“Well,” he shrugs. “I just came by to say hi. But then you started insulting me.”
“Sad, sad boy.”
“Hanging around you too much,” he tilts his chin to me.
My jaw drops and he laughs, apologizing.
“Uncalled for.”
“You started it.”
I put my hand on my hips and narrow my eyes at him, the eye contact makes him squirm and he looks away with a nervous laugh.
I turn back to the shelf and slot the book I was holding back in its place.
“You’re not on break.” He just notices I’m in a regular tee.
“I’m not working today.” I tell him. “But can you imagine? I was so bored I’m at the mall after spending most of my week here?”
“Jeez you should’ve called me I could have entertained you.”
Maybe it’s because of the leftover tension between us or just because it’s us but the comment lands awkwardly.
I snort and he hangs his head, pink creeping into his cheeks.
“Don’t let your imagination run too wild,” he says because of course he does. He couldn’t help his cheekiness. “I just meant company.”
“Shut up Styles.” I bite back a nervous laugh and turn back to the shelf.
“Hey,” his hand’s heavy on my back and my smile dies quickly after that. I turn and he drops it. “M’sorry about the other week.”
“What d’you mean?” I know exactly what he means but I’m surprised he’s not passing this off as a continual joke like he would. I don’t know what it means that he’s apologizing for it.
We were just friends! Friends didn’t apologize for this sort of things.
“Leaving you-“
“I told you to-“
“For her.”
I had hoped barrelling through apology would shut this down but his words can’t be taken back. I bite my lip. Things just grow more awkward again. Great, it feels like square one again.
“Harry I already said we’re just friends.”
“I know,” he runs a hand through his hair. “I bloody know you said that. I don’t really know why I’m apologizing.”
“Yeah well me neither,” my tone takes a sharper edge as my irritation creeps in. Why did he always get to make me feel insecure and then act like it’s his bright idea to plaster it over.
“Don’t go and bite my head off now,” he crosses his arms.
“I dunno what you want me to say Har!” I cross mine. “I know who you are…you don’t have to stay all innocent and pure around me.”
“I’m not.” He prickles. “It’s not like I’ve been by myself this summer or some shite. But I did leave you alone to go hook up with someone and it just made me feel ba-“
“Oh god,” my heart pumps faster, sensing the road we’re on which definitely passes through our past. The one where we’ve hurt each other. “I had my friends. You don’t have to feel bad for me or whatever. Just because you’re hooking up with people at the same party as me and I’m not? Like?”
“No no!” He waves his hands. “No not like that.”
“Then like what?” I snap.
He sighs, big and noisy. “I dunno. I don’t think I know what I’m saying. I don’t want to hurt you.”
Too late for that, my brain instantly responds and I’m surprised at the intensity it feels with. The smart thing would be to work those feelings out but there was no point when we were getting along mostly.
Or were we only getting along because I wasn’t tying him down, which wasn’t making him run away, and I was kidding myself into thinking it was enough.
I didn’t like my brain in this space.
I sigh, try to let the pressure out. “We’re friends Harry stop making things complicated.”
“That’s all?”
“That’s all what!?” I ask, heart racing.
“You say that but then-“
I wait for him to continue. He doesn’t. “Yeah?”
“The way you look at me sometimes it makes me feel like I’m crazy I-“
I lean forward and grasp his arm. He stops talking immediately and it takes this moment to realize how little we’d touched this summer. But how much that actually meant because touching him now, so innocently like this, sent shockwaves through my nervous system.
It all feels like a bloody farce; everything we tried so hard to pretend to be.
Here we were clearly asking ourselves all summer whether the other person still felt something, something strong enough to cross lines—he’d just confirmed it himself.
“Are you trying to hold my hand?” He asks when the tension gets too much. “You’re like, half a meter off.”
I release him. I hated when he changed the tone into a joke. I know it was some sort of defence but I needed him serious to understand me. “I just need you to stop. We don’t need to go down this road. You don’t want to go down this road.”
Slowly his features sharpen back to the familiar ones I know.
“You’re right.” He says and I squash the rejection I feel at him knowing be didn’t want to go down this road. “Ok topic change. Akil’s having a pool party on Saturday you gonna be there?”
“Who’s that again?” I ask, going along with the change in topic. I ignore the part of me that feels rejected, him believing me when I said he didn’t want to go down this road.
“Uh,” he flushes slightly and I stare. “His uncle coaches the football team. My old coach—he’s actually hosting a scrimmage at our old school for old time’s sake and inviting the teams at Akil’s for barbecue afterwards. He said to invite all our friends. Actually, you’ve been to his place before.”
Oh god, of course. It’s my turn to flush. “Oh yeah maybe—is it a big thing?”
“Old football team, current team, a bunch of girls. Bring Juni. I dunno if Dana’s coming.”
“Yeah alright.” I busy myself with my books, memories of that house looping through my brain. After the conversation we just had it heightens all the feelings I have been pushing down all summer. All of the wants and needs I’ve had week after week.
I thought us getting along was like a broom to all the debris of feelings from when we did hook up—the rejection and sadness and hurt. But I was beginning to think they were glued in with Gorilla glue but I ignore it. I ignore it all.
“Maybe you’ll find someone to hook up there and I can stop ‘feeling bad’ for you.” He mocks. “I’ll text you the address.”
He’s gone before I can scold him. Damn him for making me feel stupid, being all serious when everything kept turning into a joke for him.
I felt like I’d dug myself a hole I couldn’t dig out of anymore. The question was, do I admit defeat or try to scramble my way out?
xxxxxxxx
Part 3.5
Taglist (open for more lmk!) ; @peachedfruit @eversincehs1 @loverofhsandallthings1d @love-letters-to-uranus @wheredidmyeyesgo @harriet13lovely @mads3502 @readingrockstar23
I sit in the caf replaying the last few interactions I’d had with Leon because he had been really weird today.
Leon, I’d been crushing on him for months now. Ever since we sat in the same row during our first lecture of ecology my heart has never recovered. He was cool—so much cooler than me, but he always had a teasing something for me. Once last month he even let me yap his ear off about how stressed one of the assignments was making me. After that he invited me to a study group doubling my time with him weekly.
The rest was flirtatious history.
All my friends have been privy of every single detail up until today.
Today I’d spotted him getting a coffee in the caf so I’d gone up to him but he was distant. I’d tried talking like usual but he would look over my head when he looked at me. It had made me feel kinda dismissed and mostly lame.
I don’t understand what happened. Or maybe it was inevitable.
“Probably inevitable,” I mutter. “It was about time right? That he figured out what a dork I was.”
Gia, my best friend, just stares at me with an eyebrow raised.
“He would! We both knew he would!” I whisper. “I just want to know what it was that made him so…he was so dismissive! I hate that!”
Just then I spot a familiar green coat and wave at the group forming by checkout. Pretty soon friendly bodies descend around us, jostling the seats in our usual corner of the caf.
“That’s all you’re eating?” Matty points to my apple and pastry.
“Not hungry.” I reply.
“Bullshit!” Saba says from beside me. “I know you didn’t have breakfast either. You bitched about over text.”
“Yeah you love their fried rice,” Jackie points to Matty’s plate. It was true, the caf did do a decent fried rice.
I shrug. “Maybe later.”
“Oh she’s moping.” Saba points to my face. “What’s going on now?”
“What’s what’s going on?” Chai slides into the final seat of the table.
“We’re about to find out.”
All eyes turn on me. “You guys don’t want to hear it…it’s about Leon.”
I see all their faces twitch with either apprehension or fatigue.
Unlike me, they were all over my crush—at first the support had poured in, after all I was the only one of my friends who hadn’t dates in the two years we’ve been at uni. But when the crush kept stretching out with problems after problems to present to them (meanwhile it stayed a crush) well, they got tired of it pretty quickly.
The rest was dashed when we all bumped into Leon in the caf one time and they met him. Nobody was particularly fond of him. They all agreed he was giving hot but repressed & full of ego.
That hadn’t stopped me.
“Go on.” Jackie nods. She was the mother of the group and would listen to me even if her ears were bleeding.
“You’re going to say it either way, don’t be coy,” Gia adds.
“Or don’t,” I hear Chai whisper. I glance at him and he throws a fake smile my way. I roll my eyes in return.
I dive into the interaction anyway because I was helpless with these things without my friends. Their questions pry at what happened the time before that—study group when I arrived late and barely had time to talk to him. And the time before that?
“When he asked if I was going to the Halloween after-party?”
Jackie leans in, “and?”
“And I said yeah! And he asked if I wanted a ride and I said I was going with friends.”
“Oh my god!” Jackie and Saba both groan, Saba even slapping the table.
“What!” I ask.
“Seriously YN?” Matty says over a mouthful of rice. “Seriously?”
“No what did I do wrong?”
“He asked you out!” Saba exclaims. “And you totally shut him down!”
I look at Gia who looks like she agrees with her lips twisted like idiot you screwed this up; quietly judgey with a lot to say was Gia in a nutshell and this time is no different.
“Guys. Guys okay okay. Hold on. How would I know asking me about a ride was asking me out!?”
“That’s basic,” Matty fills in. “He’s asking you for a ride so basically he’s asking if you’re going. He only cares if you’re going because he is asking you to go with him. If you say yes to the ride you say yes to going with him. If you say no-“
“Okay but why couldn’t he just ask me point blank?”
“Cuz he’s hot stuff with an ego remember?” Gia reminds me.
My friends exchange glances.
It hits me. “I…shit! Shit! Maybe I should—well I think I should explain to him how-“
“Noooo!!” The cries come from the group. “Do not!”
“See…if he was rejected but he took it well you could have,” Saba explains. “But the asshole—and I always knew he was one, is now actively rejecting you because his ego was hurt. So he doesn’t care why you said no. Just that you said it. And so you’re dead to him.”
“And dead folk don’t talk,” Gia adds. “So that’s now officially over.”
“No fair,” I pout.
“Screwed the pooch man,” Chai adds.
“Ew?” I stare.
“It’s a saying?” He stares back.
“Anyway,” Jackie waves her hand. “Get over him. Fast. Luckily it was just a crush anyway.”
“A flirtationship.” Saba adds.
“A what now?” Matty tilts his head.
“But guys he’s nice! Maybe I just hurt him but he’s so nice to me otherwise!? And I—honestly I think he would understand.”
“Okay babe,” Saba’s hand lands on my shoulder, gearing up to launch into an explanation. I was usually on the receiving end of these because apparently all my friends were better at socializing than I was. “He was nice because you’re hot. Hotter than you realize you are because you can’t see past your own…baggage. And he thought it was going for him because hot girls who don’t know they’re hot is easy work for guys like him. And until you rejected him he thought he had it in the bag! But, he’s not the kind of guy that keeps girls around as friends. He either wants to screw them or…”
“Screw them.” Chay laughs at his joke.
“Yep.” Saba nods sagely.
“Noo,” I cover my face with my hands. This has been months of setting this all up. How could I fuck it up so quickly? Leon was different, he wasn’t that big of an ass. He had to be different.
Maybe if I find him at the party we could pick things up again. Maybe…
“Better not be scheming there.” Matty flicks my forehead from across the table.
“Ow!” I rub my temples. Gia snickers and I throw her a dirty look.
“Okay guys so Halloween party. Are we ready?” Someone changes the subject.
“No,” I groan as everyone gives an enthusiastic yes.
The rest of the meal is spent discussing costumes. Three of them were doing a group costume they hoped would win them best group. It did come with a prize of 500 so I didn’t blame them for trying so hard.
In my head I continue scheming.
***
“I think I can win him back,” I mutter to Gia as we walk out of the library. I’d just spent 3 hours typing up an assignment and desperately needed to be out of my head and in fresh air. “Because he likes me right? That’s why we flirted so long and he asked me out—oh my god I can’t believe I didn’t get it. It’s so obvious now! But—oof!”
My conversation is cut short as I bump into somebody carting around their bike. And as my luck has it his chest has no cushion to brace off of.
“Woah!” The bike goes crashing down as two hands clutch my shoulders to stabilize me. “Are you alright?”
I stare up at who I just rushed into and it takes me a second before I place him.
Oh. Fit Dude.
First year, at some pretentious party with flickering LED lights and punch in buckets—which I’d avoided but he clearly hadn’t, he’d hovered near the table like he wasn’t sure how to act around me once we were the only two left.
We’d been part of a conversation circle earlier which I’d gone a bit too passionate about when they started discussing Brokeback Mountain. Since then we had been within vicinity. On one particular shared eye contact he’d blurted, “You look uhm, really fit.”
He may have said more but that’s all I remember before the flush crawled up my neck and my ears buzzed, that split-second of wanting to disappear.
I’d just said “what the fuck?” and walked off.
Gia had laughed about it later saying be was dorky. But she agreed, who the hell comments on a girl’s body like that? She said I should’ve cussed him out and gave me a few choice examples.
But I hadn’t been mad—just really uncomfortable. He’d crossed a line without realizing it but I know deep down he wasn’t trying to be an asshole.
The little I gathered about him made him out to be an awkward but nice guy with a British sense of humour. But I didn’t believe in excusing behaviour just because he was socially oblivious. So I made a point to avoid him since, even if my friends chatted him up at parties.
Now he’s in front of me again, same accent and awkward air about him, picking up his bike with an embarrassed half-smile.
“Sorry about that,” he says, his accent clips the ends of his words and they come out a bit like one word. “Didn’t see you there.”
“Yeah…that’s okay.” I take a step away from his chest.
Today he has on a black tee and jeans with a slight flare—if he was anyone else I would find them a bit tacky but with his accent and mop of hair I just chalk it up to something British I don’t understand. Like the Beatles, pretty sure they were British.
“I just have to find a place for this.” He says about his bike.
“Mhm…You and your bike seem pretty attached.“
Since last year (probably when he got it) I’d see him riding around campus all the time. Once walking home after a party with Gia we had spotted him pushing it alone. Probably also going home. Gia thought it was a little pathetic and thought we should walk together but I’d been firmly against it knowing I’d bear the brunt of his conversation.
“Gets me places,” he says about his bike. He sounds like he’s trying to be casual, but he looks like he’s not sure if I’ll cuss him out or bolt away.
I glance at Gia, who’s made herself scarce in the corner, mouth in a grimace with her arms crossed. Poor guy, she mouths.
She wasn’t the one he harassed—how easily she’s forgotten.
Harry glances to where I’m looking, to Gia, but I decide I was done talking to him.
“Anyway. We’re good. No harm done.”
I walk off before he can say anything else, feeling his gaze linger at my abrupt departure.
Gia rejoins me, bumping my shoulder as we walk off.
“Traitor.” I call her out.
“Are those a rosy pair of cheeks I see?”
“This is a rosy face because I had a collision and nearly took a handlebar to my gut. I nearly died?”
“Mhm sure.” Gia rolls her eyes. “You nearly died.”
“You would like that,” I say darkly. I can hear her smirk.
I tighten my grip on my tote and keep walking. By tomorrow, Fit Dude will be a forgotten memory. Probably.
***
The school’s social committee goes all out for a themed party. After all, we were a school known for partying and completely unashamed about that. My friends agree to meet at mine since I still lived closest to campus this year but I’m still finishing my hair when their frantic knocking sounds.
“Open!!” I hear their shouts. They were so dramatic.
“You’re not getting that are you?” I ask Gia.
“Nope.” She says and I just know she’s grinning behind her usual homemade bedsheet-ghost costume.
I roll my eyes, having to stop mid-pinning my hair to open the door. The rest of my friends spill into the room.
“Ready?!” Jackie asks.
“Almost!” I clip in a few more fake white streaks and let them take my costume in. I was the Ghosted to Gia’s basic Ghost.
“Ah!” Jackie points to the blue text bubble with the “delivered” symbol on it. “I get yours now! Clever!”
“It was a group effort.” I look back at myself in the mirror, white off-shoulder dress and to accessorize clip-on white streaks of hair, a black smokey eye, and chunky boots. I’d taped text bubbles all over me that were either “delivered” or “read at” to be Ghosted. I look behind me in the mirror reflection to where Gia sits in her unscary ghost costume and crack a smile. I can’t tell if she smiles back under the fabric.
“This is fun guys!” I turn to everyone. “Your costumes look epic!”
“Thank you,” Chai flexes.
“Oh I meant the group costume.” I stare at his bare chest under a khaki vest and shorts. Rope circles his body like a sash. Then I spot the hat in his hands. “Oh! Cowboy!?”
“Sexy cowboy.” He puts the hat on like they do in the movies.
“Sexy to people who forgot their glasses at home.” Saba mutters.
Saba’s dressed as Wednesday Adams, I know that one. And Jackie as another Adams character—it was probably her mother.
Finally I look at Matty, tall and a little stiff and dusty looking. “Frankenstein?”
My friends groan. “YN!”
“What!?” I hold my hands up. “He looks like him!”
I was helpless when it came to pop culture. I don’t know what it was—no matter how often friends sat me down and explained concepts or forced a movie down me, I always forgot. Luckily I wasn’t completely like that when it came to school. But I’m pretty sure I was hit by one of my brother’s footballs in the head growing up.
“Firstly,” Matty clears his throat. “You’re thinking of Frankenstein’s monster. Secondly, this is literally a group costume. I’m Lurch.”
“If you say so?” I grab my phone from my bed to take pictures. “Hey why didn’t Chai dress up for your group costume?”
“Why didn’t you?” He shoots back.
“Because I don’t know the characters clearly?”
“He would’ve wanted to be someone sexy and my character is already the sexiest,” Jackie says. I notice Matty eyeing her but I don’t blame him—she looked sexy in a black dress with a plunging neckline.
“Ooh. Sexy Gomez?” Saba says and they burst into laughter.
I don’t know what they mean but it turns into a fight with Chai. Which was never a hard thing to get into. He was always slightly defensive and slightly obsessed with himself.
Once we make it to the party, it’s easy to let loose with my friends. We only get two drink tickets so flasks are passed around like candy at Halloween. Matty makes us all laugh with his hilariously made up Lurch dance moves and I continue to annoy him by shouting “Go frankie, go frankie.”
In between the dancing and the banter amongst friends I try to look out for Leon. I know he was coming as Spiderman and every guy who brushes against me in a superhero costume is a reason for my heart to set off. But I don’t see him.
I do see other friends and we all comment on each other’s costumes. Mine is a hit, many friends with real looks of emotions on their face at the mention of being Ghosted.
Gia flits in and out from the crowd, she was always a shy dancer but I’m tipsy as I pull her into our group and force her to really use the eye cutouts on her sheet to keep up. We twirl around each other, Ghost and Ghosted, until Chai lifts me up away from her and twirls me drunkenly.
“Okay Mr. Abs.” I laugh when he puts me down. “You’ve got core strength we get it.”
“This is my fucking song!” He shouts out to Gia and me when Beyonce’s Single Ladies comes on. “Dance with me? You know the moves.”
Gia and I eye each other and shake our heads, ditching him. He finds another of his friends and forces him to play along.
“He’s drunk,” Gia comments.
“He is or he wouldn’t be that nice!” I laugh.
“Wish I could be,” I hear her say.
I swallow the lump in my throat, “Well I’m not drunk either. So that makes two of us.”
“Who’s not drunk?” A random guy beside me asks. “Let me get you a drink!”
“Spending one of your 2 precious tickets on me?” I gasp—okay maybe I was tipsy. “I can’t let you do that.”
He laughs at my sarcasm but his eyes don’t join. He’s annoyed. “Well show up at the Greek after party. Drinks on tap and find me there.”
“Oh I will.” I nod. Gia and I giggle as we walk away.
This was the school’s party but everyone knew the 3 Greek houses left on campus always threw the afterparty that most people headed to after a few hours here. That’s where my friends were going after this too—where Leon had invited me and I’d rejected him.
Ugh, fuck me.
“You’re thinking about Leon?” Gia shouts.
“No!”
“Liar!”
“Am not!”
“You should be thinking about bike boy,” she gives her shy smile.
“You like him!” I gasp.
“No!? But. He’s kind of sweet.”
“Do you not remember when he said I was fit?! He’s a total ass.”
“That was ages ago,” she says. “He’s been nice to you since.”
“Since? I’ve barely spoken to him.”
“There was that time last year when he listened to your story when everyone else stopped listening. About anemics remember? Or when he made fun of that prof who always picked on you and got kicked out of lecture? And he dropped Matty off that one time he got too drunk. Matty thinks he’s nice.”
“H-how do you know all this?” I glare. “He’s a weirdo! Stay out of it!”
I barely knew him.
“Matty?” She asks. “He’s loads better than Leon.”
“Ew! Gia! He’s our best friend. Plus, Jackie has a massive crush on him.”
“Fine. Chai?”
“Pretty sure he isn’t into women.”
“He might be.” She shrugs. “I’ve caught him checking some girls out from behind before.”
I stare at her in shock. She was more observant than I gave her credit for.
“Ew!” I shake my head of the image. “Can we not?”
She shrugs and says something about a drink before disappearing into the crowd. I’m alone so I go back to find the group again.
***
My friends and I walk to the after-party. The outside air brings me down from the high from earlier and reminds me I had a plan tonight. Operation get Leon Back.
The house is decorated like a five year old on a sugar high got loose—fake spiderwebs and jack-o-lanterns, even neon toxic waste? It’s like a halloween fever dream.
“I guess this is to be expected.” Jackie says about the decor.
I notice she’s walked with Matty the whole time here, both of them sharing whispers the rest of the group was too far to hear. Saba and I share a look when Chai complains about being stuck listening to us talk about our latest food find on campus. Both of us knew to hold him back from interrupting the budding romance with our friends.
We walk up the steps, already littered with empty drinks and people chatting around. The front door creaks open in true Halloween fashion and I’m hit with the smell of pumpkin spice candles, sweaty bodies, booze, and something burnt.
“This is going to give me a headache,” Jackie complains.
“We can go out back?” Matty suggests to her. “For fresh air.”
Saba and I glance again, hiding a laugh.
Gia skipped the after-party—said drunk crowds made her nervous. Really, I think she just didn’t like seeing me drink too much. She’d always been that way.
“Alright, crew,” I announce to my friends, adjusting my Ghosted costume, “I think I should find him. Leon. He’s here and I know it.”
“Your funeral,” Chai shrugs, heading off, “I will not be listening to you crying at tomorrow’s brunch.”
“Aw you’re joining brunch!?” Saba shouts after him. After big parties like this on campus it was our ritual to do brunch the day after. We debriefed and got over our hangovers. Chai rarely joined us but had been more often.
I look back at my friends.
Jackie’s Morticia dress (she told me the name later) swishes behind her, Saba’s Wednesday braid bounce as she moves, and Matty towers above everyone. I’m about to say something to convince them but I’m distracted when I see him.
Red and black webbing. Mask pulled up on his head so when he turns to look at the friend beside him I know it’s him. My own spider-sense tingling, heart doing stupid cartwheels.
Oh this was going to happen! A second chance!
“Oh my god,” I whisper. “Spiderman alert!”
And just like in a movie, his eyes land on me. I grin and wave, but he nods coolly in my direction before turning back to his friend dressed as Captain America.
“Asshole!” Jackie hisses in my ear.
“See,” Saba crosses her arms. “It’s not him. He is not the one. Promise.”
“You guys are being judgey now because he’s acting that way but he’s only acting that way because of a miscommunication.”
“He’s not. He’s just like that. We’ve been trying to tell you.”
“There’s so many costumed fish in the sea tonight. Forget him.” Jackie agrees.
“Yeah. Except don’t go for that fish,” Matty eyes some guy in a banana suit wearing PJs.
“Oh! Bananas in pyjamas!” I feel a flood of memories wash past me, watching the show as a kid with Gia and us play-acting the two. I forgot until now that we used to love them—we really have known each other since birth.
“Knows them but not Lurch.” I barely hear Matty say because my head feels full. Emotions and memories and bottled up secrets.
But I was good at compartmentalizing. I was good at putting the mess away. So I try to do just that.
Jackie’s hand lands on my elbow, her eyebrows up in worry. “YN?”
“We need to get her drunk,” Saba decides.
I snap out of it as their hands come down on my shoulders and force me to walk to where the drinks await.
We do some shots and then Jackie complains about the candles so Matty can be her saviour.
Which leaves Saba and I alone.
“You don’t have to babysit me b-t-dubs,” I say around a mouthful of jellybeans.
“It’s not like I’ve got somewhere to be!” She takes some of the jellybeans from my hand. “Anyway, Jackie and Matty hey? D’you think it’s happening tonight?”
We grin as conspirators and bump shoulders.
“Chai’s been acting funny too don’t you think?” I ask with loose lips. I purse them because this wasn’t me. I wasn’t the friend that pried and talked behind backs—people talked about their lives when they were ready.
“I thought the same thing!” Saba agrees. She’s oblivious to my regret. “Maybe he’d realizing we’re his only friends.”
“Wasn’t he dating someone?” Damn. I press my lips together again. What was in those shots?
“He was…very cagey about it. Maybe that’s why he’s hanging out again. They broke up? Maybe we’re just his rebound friends between people. Asshole.”
“Mhm,” I say because my lips were officially glued shut.
“Oh my parents got me on a facetime yesterday,” she turns to me. “Remember the potential divorce?”
“What!? Oh yeah!” I turn to her and tune into the story she tells. But every time I catch sight of Spiderman my heart stutters. I want to go to him—but Saba keeps refilling my drink, feeding me candy. We end up half an hour later, tipsy and sugar-high, swapping lore and gossip.
“Saba!?” Someone interrupts us on a particularly juicy detail about an affair.
“Huh!” She looks up, and then up again. An insanely tall dude stands beside us. When he notices both of us staring he blushes.
“Sorry! Didn’t mean to interrupt the girl talk…uhm. Saba. You got a minute?”
I look at my friend with a question on my face. She mouths, Basketball Guy.
Ah. The guy she went on a few dates with before summer but she stopped when he kept ditching her for his practices. We all said he was hot enough to forgive—at least his ditching was showing his dedication to his sport. But Saba could be stubborn and she’d thrown out the roses he’d bought her to apologize.
“I support it,” I blurt. What was wrong with me? This is why Gia needed to come with me to this party. One look from her and I behaved.
Basketball guy chuckles and Saba glares.
“I’ll be a sec.”
“No take all the time you two need.” I push her butt forward towards him. “Seriously. I’m gonna go see what our other friends are up to.”
“Just don’t go looking behind closed doors,” she whispers and we laugh. I doubted Jackie and Matty would make it there tonight but we were just happy they were finally making excuses to be alone. “And don’t do anything stupid.”
Another drink later and the edges of the room blur just a little, the bass thumping in my chest like a drum. Courage—the kind you only get from cheap drinks and being alone, starts to wind up.
“Alright, Ghosted,” I murmur to myself, adjusting my hair and hoping my makeup still looks good. “Time to face your fear. Time to confess.”
I imagine Gia humming in approval even though my sober brain knows she thinks Leon is a hot piece with no substance. She was always picky with her crushes.
I weave through the crowd, dodging a drunk zombie who almost uses me as a prop and Chai, who’s using his rope to flirt and doesn’t see me slip past at all.
Then I see him in his red and black mask looking out the window while someone dressed as a Squid Game character speaks to him. After pointing to his watch Squid person leaves but the room shifts and I have to hold on to the wall to keep upright. Oh god.
I squint back at my target. I could do this. I would go up there and confess it all and finally have a college boyfriend.
My stomach flops. My fingers tingle. This was it.
I tap him on the shoulder.
“Hey,” I start, voice cracking slightly from nerves and alcohol. “Hi. I—uh, I need to say something? And please don’t interrupt because I will literally chicken out.”
He turns, I kind of wish his mask was pulled up again so I can read his expression but maybe this was also good. Talking to him without seeing feelings or reactions. I would only know at the end.
I just wish Gia was here so she can watch from afar and we can compare notes.
My mouth opens and words tumble out like a broken faucet, faster than I can stop them.
“I—okay, so I know this is probably weird, but firstly I did not mean to reject you the other day? I just didn’t expect it and…I’m really bad? At this stuff? I’ve gotten a lot better with the help of my friends but I’m a bit awkward and I guess some might say I can be socially stunted which I don’t think I am. It just…well it’s not really my fault even if I was—according to my therapist. Who I don’t see because I’m crazy or anything! Or maybe I am? Maybe I am…”
Even through the mask I can tell his eyebrows are doing a lot. Eventually he just gives me a slow nod—attentively. It feel encouraging. Supportive. He’s listening perfectly just like I imagined he would.
My words trip over themselves, “Well I say that because…my best friend. In the whole wide world. Who I love so much like even now I love her insanely and well—she died? Yep. She died when we were like 13, and I never really got over it.”
His hand flexes on his…it might be swords. Spiderman had swords? But the thoughts are absorbed by my verbal diarrhea.
“I never really made friends after that. Until now in college that is…it was probably something about getting out of my hometown, but I still talk to her y’know—Gia? And I see her all the time. She was the best, she was so smart beyond her years and observant as hell. She could walk into any room and like read it and crack a joke to make everyone laugh? She was good at that even though we were like, awkward budding teens and…”
I gulp in more breath because now that it’s out it’s really pouring out.
“I guess she’ll always be a teen. I’m really fucking scared about turning 20 next year now that I mention it because I feel like I’ll be leaving her behind? So I take her with me all the time. I talk to her constantly. She’s…she’s still my best friend. And so all of that to say I’m a little fucked up? And I don’t always know the right thing to say? Clearly. And sometimes I don’t read situations right so when you asked if you should drive me to this party I like, I thought you were just offering a ride? And…”
He straightens as I continue, his hand scratching his head. Maybe I’m saying too much. Reel it in. Wrap it up!
“I wasn’t saying no to you, per se. I just didn’t know you were asking me out? So I would love to. Go out sometime if you wanted? If you’re not totally scared of me now. Lol….anyway yeah, I’ve had so much fun getting to know you in study group and you’re funny and I like the way you make me feel. Um…yeah!”
I expect him to take off the mask and say something. After all I had just unloaded a ton of shit. Oh—
“You can talk now by the way. Permission granted—no chance of me chickening out now!”
“Umm,” is all he says. His voice sounds rougher, not as deep. Maybe it’s the drinks? I-
At that moment, someone comes up to us dressed as another superhero probably—full suit in yellow with claws on his knuckles. “Yo, Wade! We’ve been waiting for you at the pool table are you not playing?”
I look at this new superhero and Leon—no, Wade?
I didn’t know a lot but I at least knew Spiderman’s name was Peter Parker. Well I knew this after Leon told me who he was coming as and I looked it up.
“Wade?” I ask the new guy. He looks at me like I’m an idiot.
“Yeah? Deadpool?” He points to…Deadpool.
“What the fuck? I thought th-that was Peter Parker?” I ask.
“What the fuck?” New guy asks Deadpool. “Forget it just play the next round, fuck this.”
He stalks off and I just stare at this complete stranger I’ve told my deepest secrets to. Not even all my friends knew all of this. Oh my god.
I feel the panic flood up into my chest, my lungs collapsing on themselves. Everything about me laid bare here and I-I-
“Breathe,” Deadpool’s arms come around me and I want to shove him off but I can’t. I already know to fold over, concentrate on something and breathe. I end up staring at a piece of confetti stuck to my shoes and slowly I lower myself against the side of the sofa while I catch my breath.
I touch my throat with my fingers, slipping down to the necklace I always wore. The one I had shared with Gia when we were 12–two halves of a heart. Hers was somewhere underground in the town we called home. That she still called home.
Holy fuck.
I remember where I am. The person—Deadpool, had settled on the small slice of floor with me. Probably feeling responsible. I squeeze my eyes shut before looking up at who I’d just fucked myself over with.
Oh my god. Of course it’s him.
“Look I’m sorry but for a lot of that I genuinely thought you were talking to me,” he says in his stupid fucking British accent. His mask is pulled up just like Leon’s had been and I want to yank it off entirely and tear it to shreds.
“Why didn’t you—“ I break off. How did he think—“Why the hell would I be telling you those things!?”
“I don’t know! You told me not to talk! I thought it was going somewhere else-“
“Why would I be telling you about my dead best friend!” I shout. “What the fuck!”
“I-I’m sorry!” He holds his hands up. “I’m truly sorry! I’m obviously not spiderman though I don’t even have the-the spider on my-“
I impulsively snatch the mask off his head when he bows down to point at his shirt, accidentally grabbing a fistful of hair.
“Ow!” He yanks forward.
“Sorry!” I blurt but the mask is finally in my hands.
He rubs the top of his head with a weary look towards me, and I remember all the times he watched me like this—like I would punch him for saying something stupid. I guess I just confirmed that I could even though I didn’t mean to.
I stare at the mask in my hands. It’s different, I guess. Both red with white and black eyes but I guess if I knew what a Deadpool was I’d know. I wish my friends were here they would know.
No, I realize. They wouldn’t have let me have this whole confession thing happen in the first place. Maybe I should’ve listened to them.
“You were saying things you probably needed to say.” Fit Guy says more to himself than me, and my attention goes back to him. “Didn't think it mattered who was behind the mask."
I look down at the stupid mask that ruined everything. I hated Deadpool, I decide.
“Plus, you were on a roll. Would've been rude to interrupt your TED Talk.”
I stare at him in surprise, the nerve he had. But his face is so earnest, like an open book who would just as well receive me cussing hime out just to say what he wanted to say. It reminds me a little of myself. Of Gia. Of the ways my inner thoughts always come out from Gia.
Gia, I clench my jaw so I don’t randomly start crying. It would be 6 years in November and I don’t know how time flew by like this. How I kept getting older and she kept getting left behind.
“You’re not Spiderman.” Is the thing that comes out of my mouth.
He laughs softly, somehow hearing my words despite the chaos around us. Actually, in this corner of the living room between the couch and lamp it’s quite tucked away. It’s a good place to nearly have a panic attack I guess.
“Wrong masked idiot.” He says.
I look at him, take in his eyes that are a few shades of green like moss and seaglass and his cheekbones that jump out in the Halloween lighting. The scruff on his face is uneven like it just started growing back in tonight, and his hair’s a flattened mess from being in the mask. His face isn’t perfect, a little uneven like he grew into it too fast but the longer you look at it the more it grows on you.
I shouldn’t look at it too long.
And, I realize, for someone who now knows the words I keep trapped in the basement of my heart, I still didn’t know his name.
“Named?”
“Huh?” He snaps out of whatever daze he was in.
“A masked idiot named…?”
“Deadpool? Oh—Wade.”
My brows scrunch, was he really that daft?
“Oh! My name? H-Harry? Did you not know that?”
“No you were just Fit Dude to me.” I say without thinking. My eyes widen and snap to his. He smirks.
“Like…you think I’m fit?”
“What?!” I throw his mask at him—whip it actually. “Why would I—what is your obsession with bodies a-and fitness?!”
“Huh? Fitness?” He asks before something dawns on him. He throws his head back and lets out a laugh I didn’t even think he would be capable of. It’s loud and authentic and not awkward at all as he tips back into the wall. His mask slides off his lap and I reach for it again just to have something in my hands.
“What!?” I say but his laugh is contagious and I chuckle, watching him lose it. “Why are you laughing!?”
“Oh my god,” he wipes tears out of his eyes. His dark forest-y eyes. “Oh no. You misunderstood. Fit means like…attractive? I think? Like you say someone’s fit like they look good, they look oh—fine! Yeah. Hot?”
Oh my god, I blush. He was calling me good looking (hot!?) that day and I totally flipped out. Had written him off since.
I imagine the look Gia would give me. Something like I told you he wasn’t a bad guy, and you judge too quickly.
“Jeez,” I swear.
“So why do you call me…Fit?” He asks.
“Well,” I cover my face. This was embarrassing. But not as embarrassing as everything I just told him—what was there to lose. “Well you called me fit once in like first year and I thought you were commenting on my body? And I…”
A giggle escapes me. The ridiculousness of it all just hits me right then and I hunch in laughing until tears stream down my cheeks. He joins in and we laugh until our stomachs hurt and I’m pretty sure all the alcohol has run out of my eyes.
“This is so fucking ridiculous,” I say when I finally calm down. “I’m—look, I’m sorry. I’ve probably been an ass to you. I thought you were an ass.”
“Who said I wasn’t?” He raises his brows.
I study him again, he could be. But he’d also completely dashed any reaction I thought someone might have to me spilling my deepest darkest secrets and turned this into something to laugh about. It’s like Gia kept trying to insist—I knew deep down somewhere he was a nice person. I didn’t think he would ever hold this against me. I was just holding onto my biases for far too long.
“Somehow,” I twist my mouth. “I don’t know if you are?”
“Oh I am,” he insists. “Always say the wrong things at the wrong times. Don’t always read the room. Get awkward around pretty girls and say shite like they’re fit without thinking of how it might sound. Oh, and crash my bike into said girls. Total total ass.”
He says it like arse which I giggle at again. Stop laughing, you’re going to look certifiable.
But he’s smiling softly at me, like I could be certifiable and he would just think it was cute.
Damn. I should go.
“Well, my friends are probably looking for me,” I try to stand but sway instead. He’s there—Harry, to keep me steady.
“Maybe get some water down?”
I wave his suggestion down. “Don’t go being all helpful now.”
“Right. Arse behaviour only.”
Another giggle escapes me and I slap my hand to my mouth.
“You can laugh,” he grins. “If it’s funny.”
“Nope,” I uncover my mouth. “No man is this funny. I’m just drunk. And I have to go.”
He looks like he wants to say something but he stops himself.
“What?”
He shakes his head. “Are you supposed to be uh, being ghosted?”
“Yeah!” I nod. “And the dress actually is off the shoulder which is also known as cold shoulder so I thought it was a clever double…”
I trail off. Why was I suddenly so loose lipped!
“That’s cool. You reckon Gia would have dressed up the same?”
My heart stutters—it’s strange hearing her name coming out of a stranger’s mouth. But the way he asks, it feels like she’s here again. Like he knew her.
His face drops as he realizes, “Shit sorry if that-“
“She would.” I say. “Actually every Halloweens she dresses up as a ghost. White bedsheet and all.”
It was the last thing she dressed up as at 13. Like she knew that would be her legacy.
I know I sound crazy. Certifiable. But just like I thought, his eyes stay steady on me, a small smile on his lips. My stomach does a strange flip, and I feel unfamiliar in my body suddenly. I feel expansive and like everything is overflowing and shy that maybe others can see all this happening.
But it’s dimly lit and everyone’s busy with their own Halloween business. The only person looking is him. Harry.
His lips part, “Ghost and Ghosted.”
I press my lips together and smile. He got it.
“H-how did she? Die?”
I swallow the lump, always finding the moment hard to talk about. “Uhm, car. It was a…car.”
“Well.” He nods like he can see I was on the verge of falling apart again. “She sounds like someone I’d get along with. Sounds very cool.”
“She would like you,” I say without thinking. Gia did like him.
We both blush.
“I should go.” I say again. I take a few steps out so that I’m no longer in the corner with him. I miss it as someone’s elbow jostles into me from the side. “But hey next time a stranger starts confessing to you in the dark, take the mask off?”
“Next time,” he inches closer so we don’t have to shout. “You should check under the mask before you start confessing.”
“Good point.”
“A-and maybe you should talk about your friend more often. In general. So it doesn’t all come vomiting out to a stranger like that?”
My mouth falls open and he bites back a laugh.
“You really are an ass.” I say even though I know what he was trying to say. And it’s oddly touching. Fit Dude was growing on me.
“Arse behaviour only.” He grins because he knows me enough now to know it makes me laugh.
But I don’t give him the point, smiling instead because I can’t help it.
I take the point instead when I take the mask I’d picked up from the ground and get close to him, so close that the smile drops from his face. I raise my hands above his head and then slip the mask back on, and it’s a little crooked but it’s just like before. Like all of this never happened. With the mask on I don’t see what his mossy eyes look at me with or how his cheeks flush when I pat his face twice and walk away back into the crowd.
I’d find my friends, and head home. Home to Gia to tell her all about this and how she was right. She was usually right.
I catch Matty’s tall Lurch frame in the back of a room and head towards it. I brush against Spiderman at the door and hesitate, heart pumping. But when he looks at me I feel small. Like I’m trying to measure up. I realize that’s how I’ve been feeling ever since we started studying together. That’s how I’ve felt with most guys I’ve crushed on.
“Nice costume,” I say to him and continue pushing past.
“Hey, wait!” I hear him calling after me.
I turn out of surprise, maybe I’d gotten the wrong person again—Leon would never call me back.
But it’s him alright.
“What are you doing?” He asks. “Now.”
“Oh,” I turn back to Lurch. “Just going back to my friends. Heading home soon.”
His eyes travel to where I point and something hard takes over his features.
“You’re just sticking with your friends all night? No…date or anything?”
“Sort of and…nope.”
His jaw ticks. “You know YN you’re hot but…not that hot.”
I’m so shocked by the words coming out of his mouth that I don’t say anything at first. But as I get over my shock I see how pathetic Leon is—hot but no substance.
“Well that’s fine,” I shout as I start moving back to my friends. “I’d rather be fit than just hot.”
I turn away from Leon’s confused disgust with a grin and leave him behind. My friends were right, and so was Gia. What was I thinking?
I just thank whatever was out there for my cursed memory when it came to pop culture. Thankful that my confession had landed on Deadpool’s ears rather than Spiderman’s. Thankful for do-overs and second chances and British boys who might be asses but were asses with a good heart.
“You look like you’ve got a story to tell,” Jackie welcomes me with an open arm when I reach them. I spy a bruise on her neck and flick her on it.
“You too.”
“Ow!”
“Hey!” Chai leans in, slurring his words. “Leave the scoop for brunch guys. I’m too drunk right now.”
We laugh at our strange friend but agree to leave then like we came, together. I catch Harry’s eye as we go—he’s at the pool table bending down to assess his move. He stands up when he catches sight of me and I don’t know what comes over me as I make an “o” with my fingers and mouth one word to him,
Fit.
I swear I hear his infectious laugh even outside the door. It lingers in a soft corner of my heart.
A/N: I wanted to play with the idea of 2 characters falling in love at different points in a story and what that would be like on each side. Idk if I fully captured what I wanted but I liked writing from harry/reader pov like this even though I kept switching partways lol.
Would love to know for inspo purposes—how do you know you’re falling?
———————————————
This is a first, you thought as you and Claire walked into the art gallery—one of your friends had a show of their unique pieces, mixing tech with traditional art. All of it was inspired by their partner, the lead in an indie pop band so to tie it all together they were playing at the gallery while the pieces hung on the walls, rippling with their programmed light and movement.
Take a posh gallery and stitch it with a rave. That’s kind of what it looked like in there.
“Guess I didn’t need to look so fancy,” Claire says in your ear. You two had spent the last half hour sorting your closets to figure out what was art-show appropriate.
“Let’s find Mimi,” you shout back.
You weave through the crowds, staying on the outskirts and spot her all the way up the front by the stage. You both agree to find her later and opt for a drink instead.
“Maybe I’ll get lucky tonight,” Claire comments as a tall guy brushes by, eyeing the length of her with a smirk before walking away. “Maybe you will.”
“That’d be nice,” you sigh. You hated being the chronically single one of your friends but that’s just how it went. Well it went beyond that—you felt unlucky in love.
Every relationship you poured yourself into and every relationship failed, just like that.
You were unloveable, maybe. You were lonely, definitely. So you’d take the warmth of a stranger where you could get it.
“I have an idea,” Claire says. “We dance our way through the crowd, I’ll be your wingwoman and we can make our way through towards Mimi. You’re so going home with someone tonight.”
You hold your glass up in agreement, you’d learned to just go with Claire’s ideas. Somehow they never worked in your favour, but that’s what you got for having a best friend that was a smokeshow. It used to bother you, but now in your late 20s after seeing Claire go through men like she went through shoes, it didn’t matter. The guys she went for also wanted a fun time like her. You wanted someone in it for the long run.
The men who felt the pull of her magnet were never meant for you anyway.
It felt mature, to think like that.
As Claire pulls you in, you find yourself dancing with male body after male body, hands on parts of you you barely touched yourself. You feel the familiar hollowness of loneliness. It was a constant companion, and yet never made you feel any less lonely.
Across the room stand two guys, they both watch Claire throw her head back and laugh. The purple and blue lights from above dance over her skin, she looked like a muse come to life. Like she was born from this art gallery.
“Mate. She’s beautiful,” Harry, the taller of the two, comments.
“You gonna talk to her?” Dylan asks. “Because if you’re not…”
“Give me a sec,” Harry got stupidly nervous around beautiful women. Which was stupid because he interacted with them on a daily basis, but that’s probably why he was considered a bit shy by people who met him. Shy was the nice way of saying awkward.
The thing with Harry is that he grew up as a wallflower. But in his mid 20s he started earning the attention of women. Pretty women. He felt like his pot of luck had been filled and then some, and yet he only got lucky on occasion. The problem was he just didn’t know what to do with his newfound attractiveness. Even 5 years on.
“There she goes,” Dylan comments as their muse moves to the bar. “Go on.”
Harry swears under his breath but makes his beeline towards her before anyone else could swoop in.
“Hiya,” Harry slides in beside her and then curses. He should have gone for something more suave. “Can I get you something-“
“I already ordered,” she smiles and Harry confirms she’s more beautiful than any of the crazy art in this room.
“Well it’s on me.”
“Thanks,” she takes him in. He tries not to squirm or think about what impression he was making. “I’m Claire.”
“Right. I’m Harry.”
“Nice to meet you Harry.”
“Likewise…So, erhm, you like dancing?”
She tilts her head, “I do. I was just down there.”
“I know.” Harry says. She raises a brow. Shite. “I mean like I saw you dancing. In the middle. You made it look like a fun time.”
“It is. Is dancing not fun for you?” She laughs. Her drink arrives and Harry pays for it orders for himself.
“I don’t do it a lot.” Harry taps his fingers on the bar. “I like the music part. That make you want to dance.”
She gives him that look. The look that told him he’d tipped the scales too far off to recover. Why couldn’t he just explain he made music? And dancing and making music went hand in hand. Why was that so hard to say??
“Well I’m going back in,” she announces. “Feel free to join.”
And of course he doesn’t. Because she would probably inch away from him if he did until the crowd swallowed her away.
“How’d it go? Make a good impression?” Dylan asks but Harry just downs half his drink and hopes that answers Dylan’s question. He’d made an impression alright.
Meanwhile, in the middle of the dancefloor you move to the heavy drums. This was one of your favourite songs by this group; it was on replay on your Spotify. The girl beside you grins at you and you both move in sync, shouting the lyrics. It’s more fun than you’d had with any guy here tonight.
When the band takes their break and a playlist replaces the live music, you try to find Claire. It’s surprising she doesn’t have a bloke already wrapped around her this late into the night.
“The line to the toilet is stupidly long,” she complains. “I don’t feel so good. Can we get air?”
“Of course,” you grip her arm and help her out. The night air is crisp compared to the recycled air inside. You take in a lungful.
“Hey,” Claire spots someone she knows and she moves towards them. You trail behind her as she walks up to two blokes smoking off to the side. “I never saw you dancing in there!”
The guy she’s talking to shrugs, his cheeks taking on a pinkish colour. He’s cute in a boyish way, but you reckon if he trimmed his hair and grew some scruff, he could be a lot more interesting to gaze at. A face that could hang in this art gallery, a soft pink light shimmering on the highs of his cheekbones.
His eyes clash with yours and you throw a friendly smile and make a conscious effort to join the group. You hadn’t heard what was said in the time you were admiring his face.
“I would if I hadn’t broken my foot a month ago,” the other guy says. He was a cold good-looking. Sharp features accentuated by a buzzcut. You could imagine him in an avant-garde spread of a magazine.
“Excuses!” Claire teases. She was good at this. “I was telling your friend here how fun dancing was, that he should join.”
“And he didn’t?! Harry, mate, we all know you dance.”
“Not the right setting.” He replies. Almost mumbles.
“Any setting is the right setting for dancing,” his friend says.
“Right!” Claire latches onto him, you knew her well enough she’d chosen her prey for tonight. “I feel like dancing is such a good release, any time music comes on my foot just-“
“Can’t hold it in right?” The other friend laughs. “Me too. When I’m on the tube I’m like how do I get into this without looking like a weirdo.”
Claire’s laugh crackles into the air. You smile, she was going home with him for sure.
You glance at Harry, he’s looking after her like a sad puppy. You’d seen that look too many times—dejected.
“I bet you wished you liked dancing more huh?” You tease, quiet so it doesn’t travel to the couple.
“Huh?” He looks at you like he just noticed you were standing beside him. “Oh. No?”
“Right.” Well this was awkward. “So you’re Harry. I’m y/n.”
“Oh sorry,” Claire says when she hears your name. “We’re so rude we just closed ourselves off to these two. This is y/n. and I just learned that this is Dylan.”
“Nice to meet you,” Dylan smiles at you. “Harry are you okay if we split?”
Claire looks at you, asking the same question with her eyes. You nod, and she smiles at you gratefully. Her eyes widen and she motions subtly with her head to Harry. You smile like it was a good idea but you know he wasn’t an option; he was one of Claire’s castaways. But she was too oblivious for that.
“Then there were two,” you joke, reaching for the familiar line. “Are you going back in?”
“In there?” He shakes his head. “We already said our goodbyes. I might just head home.”
“Oh okay. Did you know the artist?”
“I don’t. Dylan’s cousin is the lead singer in the band? We came by to support the show.”
“That’s nice.” You respond back even though he didn’t return the question. “I’ve worked with the artist actually—Jemima.”
“Cool. I take it you’re an artist yourself?” He asks, finally looking at you instead of around you.
“Yep. I do photography.”
A group of people exit the show and their noise drowns out whatever Harry was about to say. Without warning, like a valve opened, your chest fills with the ache of a feeling.
What am I doing here, you ask yourself. You’d come by to support Mimi, but you didn’t owe this guy anything. You should go home, do your usual routine of staring at the ceiling, hearing Claire come in late, try to drift to sleep, and then finally doing so.
Sometimes being with others felt more lonely than being alone.
“Anyway, it was nice meeting you Harry. I’m gonna head home.”
“Oh.” He seems surprised. “You’re leaving for home?”
“Well, yeah?” You shrug. “I’ve made my rounds, danced enough to need a gallon of water. My feet are telling me to go home.”
“You ladies talk about dancing and I feel like I missed out,” he laughs but it comes off kind of awkward and shy. It’s endearing.
You change your mind then—you imagine posing him at 3/4 angle and snapping him from below. Maybe a shot looking through his lashes. Something mysterious yet welcoming. The longer you got to know him, the more he shifted.
“Does that mean you want to go back in again?” You ask.
“Fuck it sure. If you come too. I don’t want to dance alone.”
“Why not? Have you never?”
“Danced alone?” He holds the door open for you and you go in. His energy seems to have shifted. He’s less awkward, more relaxed, but it still feels like you don’t have his full attention. Or maybe that was just your insecurities projected onto a beautiful man.
“I dare you,” you have to tip toe for him to hear you once you’re back in. You use both your hands on his back and guide/push him through the crowd. When you let go you open your arms wide.
He shakes his head and tries to grab your hands but you back away. “Dance!” You shout. “Let’s see.”
He laughs, his head weighing backwards like the ceiling could grant him some confidence, the length of his neck glistening with something you wanted to taste.
When he looks at you again you chant to dance and he shrugs away his shyness. Before you know it he’s moving until he’s actually in sync with the beat. You try not to be a creep, sneaking your phone out. He was a complete stranger but god the photo opportunity was perfect.
You manage two before he turns and finds you in the crowd again. He pulls you closer to him, nearly chest to chest.
“I should be a lot more drunk to be doing this.” He says in your ear. Goosebumps erupt down your arms.
Take it easy.
The two of you end up dancing for a few songs, laughing at new moves you put on. It becomes a contest to do a silly but serious move and you’re in stitches by the time the two of you stumble out.
“Jeez that was fun,” you lean against the brick fence a few buildings down. You were sweaty and out of breath, your body demanding hydration now.
“I have not done something like that in years. It was nice.” He grins. It feels like a secret. “Thank you for pushing me in.”
You felt like you should be thanking him, for the fun and for making you feel included tonight. But of course he ruins it when he opens his mouth next.
“You can tell your friend Claire I ended up dancing. It was a proper good time.”
“Yeah,” you fake a smile, the aching wound reawakening in your chest. “Maybe I will. I’m headed that way though, I’ll see you around Harry.”
His face falls for a moment, you can see him try to figure out asking you to stay but wondering why you’d gone so cold. You hated how a good looking man could fool you into thinking he could be smart. But this one was as daft as they came.
You wave and turn towards the direction of your station, feeling a bitter chill that wasn’t coming from the weather.
***
The next time you see Harry is about a month later. Claire had been seeing Dylan—they hadn’t labelled it according to her so it was still casual. But she felt good about it because he was having a thing at his flat and he’d invited her. So you join Claire since he’d extended the invitation.
“Maybe you’ll see his friend Harry.” She sings as you turn the corner to his street.
“I already told you nothing happened that night.”
“Maybe because you went home after having a marvellous dance-off with him!”
“He kinda got like soggy bread!” You complain. “If it weren’t for me the conversation would have gone stale.”
“Same here. When he spoke to me I mean,” Claire laughs. “Dylan did say he’s a bit shy. Just give him another chance.”
“He’s not interested-“
“You’re so harsh on yourself. Of course he would be! He’d be lucky to be with you…”
You let Claire launch into her tirade. Although you appreciated it, it ignored the fact that someone could just not be interested in you. Especially after fancying your friend first.
Dylan’s flat ends up being nicer than you thought, a lot of windows and fancy tech things around.
“Just call her,” you and Claire walk up to Dylan, Harry, and another guy. Dylan seems to be lecturing Harry on something.
“Call who?” Claire asks.
“Hey,” Dylan kisses her hello. “This girl Harry went to uni with. He bumped into her when she was walking her dog. Harry thinks they hit it off, but he refuses to call her!”
“Why not?!” You and Claire ask. Further proof he wasn’t into you.
“Well I friended her on Instagram and she’s just ignored it!” Harry explains.
“So? Maybe she doesn’t use instagram.” Claire offers.
“She does. I had Dylan request too and she accepted his.”
“Oh?” You notice the pitch change in Claire but nobody else does of course.
“I unfollowed her after,” Dylan says. Or maybe he did hear the change. Smart man.
The friends gathered in the room shift and flow around each other, you lose Claire pretty quickly after the hour mark like you usually did. Eventually it’s you and Harry again, sitting on the couch.
Just like soggy bread, he’s mostly silent with beer in his hand. You get tired of the silence so eventually you slide closer to him.
“So what’s with the girl from uni? Do you have history?”
“Huh?” He seems startled out of his thoughts. “Oh. Her. No we had a few classes, saw her at parties that sort of thing.”
“But it seemed promising when you saw her recently?”
“I think so?”
Poor Harry, he couldn’t even tell the difference.
“What about her number? Or try DM-ing her.”
“I don’t wanna be desperate.”
“Fine,” you think. “Nevermind. She’s probably not into you.”
“But she kept touching my arm,” Harry recalls. “Why would she touch me if she wasn’t interested?”
You look at his physique. It wasn’t anything extraordinary but you can see the temptation to touch his arms.
Meanwhile Harry watches you eye him. It was kind of funny to him. He didn’t know why Claire’s best friend always remained at the end of the night but she was easy to talk to so he didn’t mind. Better than pretending to be interested in whatever Dylan’s tech-bros were talking about.
He hadn’t actually seen Dylan in a while. Probably off with Claire, he thinks with a sigh.
“Yeah nevermind.” Harry hears you say. It’s then he realized he’d tuned you out while his brain had been running. And you had taken his sigh as a response to what you were explaining.
The conversation falls flat after that. And when Harry goes for another drink you decline, deciding it was time to head home.
Surprisingly, Harry says he could use the time away and walks you to the station. Claire was spending the night but mostly he just wanted out of the flat. Walking you a few blocks away was a good enough excuse.
***
A few weeks go by before you find yourself alone with Harry again. It was someone’s birthday, or two people’s. You forgot what exactly was the excuse you took to get out of the house. All you had to know was there were people and an open bar.
Again, you started off in a group but couples drifted away until the two of you remained. You had been standing in Harry’s blind spot so when the last couple leaves, he notices it was you.
“Hey.” Harry says to you but his eyes look out into the room, even his body faces the crowd’s direction. He should have known you were here after seeing Claire cozy up with Dylan.
It should make you feel shittier but you’re almost used to it. After a week of working from home hunched over your table editing photos for yesterday’s deadline you would take any social interaction. No matter how stale. Or soggy.
“Hey!” You elbow him so he looks at you at least. “It's been a while hasn’t it? How’s life treating you these days?”
“Yeah, it's fine.”
“Cool, yeah. Any exciting projects keeping you busy lately or…?”
“Not really. Just the usual keeping me busy right now. Same old routine y’know.”
“Right, right.” You could feel him slip away again. “Yeah. Work can be a drag. I’m pretty sure I gave myself scoliosis being hunched over for 10 hours a day this week. I’d rather fold laundry than do that again, and you probably don’t know this, but I absolute hate folding laundry. But yeah that’s my thrilling life. Anything you've been doing in your free time?”
“Nah. Just trying to stay on top of work.”
“Right.” He was the busiest man on earth apparently. “So everyone at the party’s talking about the new Love Island season. You watch it?”
“Not really into TV these days. Busy with work and all that?”
“Right. You mentioned. I did too.” You nod. “I had a lot of deadlines this week so very busy too. Busy busy. I actually got so stir-crazy I started talking to my plants? It felt silly, but my nan was saying it does help them grow so…it’s a win-win. Or maybe it’s the isolation makes you appreciate the little things…”
“Right.” Harry nods along. He’s looked at you twice this whole time. Well, glanced was more like it. And suddenly you want to scream because it was utterly unfair that you only knew him at any of these godforsaken parties. And he never wanted to talk to you, or cared to.
You’d seen him with Dylan, even with Claire! He was more animated and interested then, even though he stammered through half of it. Was there something wrong with you that put you in gray-scale in this crowd of colourful people?
You’re not Claire, the stupid voice in your head reminds you.
I didn’t need to be Claire, you remind yourself.
“So what about that girl you fancied?” You try to ask him something he might be interested in; you hated how desperate you were getting for company. “From uni? Anything come of that?”
“What?” He finally looks at you. “Oh her. No she uhm. Well embarrassing but she has a bloke. I misread the whole thing-“
“You said she was all touchy!”
“Yeah she was wasn’t she?” He scratches his head. “I dunno, i suppose she’s always been like that. So yeah, nothing happened there.”
He chuckles like he’s embarrassed, yet the smile brightens his face. It makes you a little more upset and you don’t know why.
“Maybe you dodged a bullet. Anyway. I’m gonna make some rounds. I’ll catch you around-“
“What?” He actually turns to you now. “Why?”
“What?!”
“Why you leaving?”
“I’m not leaving. I’m just doing a circle. And getting another drink.”
“Oh,” his shoulders drop a little. You’re confused, because he didn’t seem interested in having you around at all until you were leaving. “Good.”
“I didn’t think you’d miss me if I was gone with your half-ass answers.” You say before you can think. He looks a little stupefied.
“Half-ass?”
“Or were you just being a whole ass?”
“Huh?” He closes the gap between you again. “I was listening to what you were talking about.”
“Yeah. Just listening. It felt like having a conversation with paint while it dried.”
“I’d think that’s better than houseplants?”
You’re a bit stunned—he had been listening. But still. He wasn’t keeping up conversation.
“Now see if you made a joke about it back then it would have been funny. A back-and-forth conversation? Now it’s just a desperate attempt to keep me around. I don’t know what for.”
“It’s not desperate,” he argues. “I didn’t realize you’re so needy.”
You raise a brow, “I am not needy.”
“I think you are,” he grins and with his full attention on you and that stupidly smarmy grin you feel that pull again. Too bad it was just one-sided.
“I’m not. I’ll prove it by leaving your presence for good tonight. See you next time Harry.”
“Don’t be like that,” he calls after you. “And I like to keep you around because I thought we were friends!”
Your stride falters as you’re walking away. You weren’t expecting him to say that.
But wasn’t he just friends because both your friends were dating each other?
What are you even doing here with these people, the thought comes back to you again. The same one that always floated through your mind being in these sorts of places.
If Claire wasn’t dating Dylan you wouldn’t even be here. God, you needed to hang out with friends other than Claire.
***
You unwrap the belt that ties your coat closed and drop it all to the floor. Well not all, your cameras get let down gently.
Your shoulders ached. And your back and your head and your arms. Jeez.
You had a wedding gig that was paying most of this month’s rent, so you had to take it. The only thing is your job started at 6am and ended at 8pm. That was more than half a day and you were spent.
“Hey you’re home!” Claire waves at you as you pass her. She has her phone held out in front of her face, you hear Dylan’s voice on the other end.
“Is that yn? Hii!”
“Hi,” you croak to Dylan. Claire juts her lip out at the sight of you.
“I’ve already done dinner,” she says over the top of the screen. “I’m going out with Dylan and some friends later you wanna come?”
You shake your head. She knows what a low battery yn looked like.
“Okay fine. Leftovers are in the fridge for you.”
“God I love you,” you tell her as you close your bedroom door behind you and collapse into bed.
You liked it when Claire was happy in a relationship, or whatever she called them, but when she wasn’t these were the nights she’d follow you into your room after a big shoot and ask about the details. And you’d complain about the pushy customers eventually moving to how beautiful everything was. She was usually the first person to see your raw images.
But tonight while she talks to Dylan you turn on your humidifier and let the low hushing noise lull you into a relaxing trance. You remember that you only had yourself. That you had to learn to be happy with that, lonely or not.
***
Claire promised to do kitchen duty for the whole week if you came out to Jemima’s partner’s gig. And you couldn’t deny a week of no dishes or meal prep, so you drag your ass out the door despite riding on 4 hours of sleep for the last few nights. But you met your deadline this afternoon so this was as good of a celebration as any. Even if it was a Thursday night.
“So you and Dylan are getting serious huh?” You ask Claire on the tube over.
“Kinda?”
“It’s been over 3 months. Half the time you were with you know who.”
You-know-who, her one relationship that actually meant something to her. Crashed and burned two years ago.
“No,” she blushes. “It’s just, he’s pretty great but we don’t really talk about labels.”
“Maybe you should.”
“Guys always run when you do.”
Do you want that sort of guy, you want to ask. Instead you shrug, “let them.”
She rolls her eyes, accustomed to your biting remarks around men.
The gig is electrifying as soon as you arrive. It gets you moving and your sedentary body remembers it has more flex in it than just your wrist. You’re alive and sweaty a few hours later, happy that you went.
“Hey,” Claire says when you drift back to her. “Dylan said the drummer’s inviting some friends to the place she’s staying at. Wanna come?”
“Yeah! Let’s go!” You were high on just being out and around people, the loneliness had been kept at bay, and you didn’t want to ruin that by going home just yet.
The drummer’s place is the bottom floor of a quaint house near Portobello. Most people are already there by the time you trail in behind Claire and Dylan.
“Look there’s Harry!” Claire shouts, pointing to the figure that was become too familiar to you. He’s listening intently to the couple in front of him. Nice to know he could do that.
You flash her a thumbs up. But her and Dylan start walking towards them. Ugh!
You eye the room, thinking you could make a run-in with alcohol instead of Harry but he looks up at the approaching couple and catches your eye. He waves.
Whatever.
The four of you eventually find a quieter room, mostly because there was a hookah circle going on and everyone there was talking in hushed voices. A stark contrast to the volume in the den.
“Hey, I wasn’t expecting you here.” Harry says when the two of you find yourselves alone again.
“Why not?”
“You didn’t show the last couple times we all hung out. I thought you were tired of us.”
“Maybe I am.” You raise your brow. “Did you miss me?”
“Hey!” Dylan appears in front of you two again before he could answer. “Nish is here, I heard.”
“Nish?” Harry becomes all fidgety.
“Who’s Nish?” You have to ask.
“Someone we know,” Dylan says. You look for Claire and she’s making her way to you. But before she gets there another body steps towards your group.
“Hi! Harry look at you—and Dylan, is it just me or you look more hideous than last time?” The girl cuts in and you take a step back instinctively. The group felt overcrowded.
You watch the two boys hug the new girl, Nish you assume, in greeting.
Claire approaches the group with curiosity.
Introductions are made and Dylan offers to show Nish the drinks.
Then there were three.
“She’s pretty,” you comment. You know Harry agrees what with how much he resembled a ruler.
“Yeah,” he nods stiffly.
“So were you at the gig Harry?” Claire changes the subject. “It was amazing.”
“Yeah! I was there with Dylan and some friends. Surprised I didn’t see you two.”
“Were you dancing?” Claire teases.
“I was,” he blushes. He glances at you. You recall that first night when the two of you had a lot of fun just dancing. “Maybe that’s why I missed you guys.”
You give a small smile at the in-joke. He looks back to Claire.
You all talk about the gig, and then a little about someone similar Harry was working with.
Eventually Claire wonders aloud where Dylan had gotten to and leaves.
And then there were two.
“I get this feeling something’s going to happen,” you say.
“What do you mean?” Harry asks.
You shrug, you didn’t quite know. The whole night was moving so fast, especially after the gig. You just had a sense you missed something and it was bothering you.
“Have you got a drink yet?” Harry asks.
“No, maybe I should.”
“Me too. I’m done mine. I think I want another.”
As you walk down the hall to where it might logically be, you hear a shout. Your stomach drops. Was this it?
“I’m sorry wait!” Someone shouts over the noise. The overall noise dies down a bit quieter. “It’s not what it-“
“Fuck off! I’m done!”
“Shite,” you recognized Claire’s voice anywhere. You rush past Harry and towards the voices.
You find Dylan shirtless and holding it against his chest. Nish is a little ways behind him, hair a lot messier than when you last saw her. Buttons undone on her dress.
You notice the lipstick on Dylan’s neck. A colour Claire would never wear.
Everything snaps into place.
You rush to Claire and try to comfort her but she hurls more insults towards Dylan over your shoulder. You manage to get her out of his sight and she fights you too, she was seething with anger.
“He’s a dick!” She screams. “Why did I think he was going to be any different oh my god! I shouldn’t have let him go alone with her, what was I thinking? Yn! Why didn’t you stop me!”
You knew it was all rhetorical. Claire rarely took romantic advice from you.
“He tried to say we weren’t even a couple I-“ her voice catches and then comes the tears. You pull her in, familiar with the routine. Next would be feeling sorry for herself, then the anger again, then telling you she needed to be alone. Then a few hours would pass before she crawled back to needing comfort again.
And it happens just so.
“I don’t need a mother right now!” Claire says as you convince her to stay with you. To head home. “I just need to clear my head! I’m sorry okay I just want to be alone!”
And you let her go.
And now you had to kill time.
You find a beer and down it. Someone nearby asks you what the drama was about and you strike up a conversation that ends in them trying to kiss you. Ew.
You wander until you find Harry again. He’s surprised you’re still here. Asks where Claire was but as you respond one of the girls from the band recognizes Harry—you’re pretty sure her name is Kate. Soon enough you’re sidelined while they talk about something you knew nothing about.
Well fuck him too, you think miserably.
You grab one of the few remaining cans and head to the back of the house. Past open doors and closed doors. The closed door intrigues you at the end of the hall.
The doorknob is stuck so you wiggle it. Probably locked.
You were tired. God, you were tired of it all.
In a moment of anger you bang your shoulder against the door and magically it opens.
It wasn’t locked, just stuck due to age.
Same, you think.
Inside is the smallest room you’ve ever seen. The size of 1.5 closets. There looks like a childs bed, the walls are covered in posters, and there’s a small set of drawers with a guitar resting on top. It’s cramped but cozy, something about it feels familiar.
You step inside and close the door.
Down goes another beer.
You hope the person who owned the room didn’t mind you crashing it. You lay in bed and let out a big sigh. And then another. It felt good. Cleansing.
You listen to the noises outside, people laughing and talking. You think about Claire. About yourself. All of your several issues combined. The dull ache of loneliness starts in your ribcage and spreads out.
The door handle rattles a few times but eventually you realize nobody’s angry enough to smash it open like you. Most people assumed it’s locked and leave.
You’re taken by surprise then the door does creak open a smidge.
Distant light travels through to paint a multi-coloured line across the floor and over the bed. You lift your fingers to touch it but it feels like everything else.
“Of course you’re in here; I wondered where you went to.” Harry reveals his face by opening the door wider, poking his head in. It looks like it’s floating and the image almost makes you laugh. Almost.
“Why?” You ask in your most disinterested voice.
He takes the question, despite it dripping with apathy, as an invitation. The door remains opened a crack, now just with Harry on the inside.
“Because you disappeared.”
“You started talking to Kate so I made my exit. Did she go home?”
“No.” He inches closer after closing the door. You have no idea how he knew exactly where you were and how to get in. With the door closed it’s not so dark that you can’t make out his figure. But he’s a shadow in the dark.
“Can you sit or something? It’s kind of creepy having you hover like that in the dark.”
“Sorry,” he laughs and again, he overextends the invitation and lays parallel to you. He’s close, with the bed being so small. Your ache spreads. “Kate’s dancing with another bloke.”
“Poor Harry.” You mock. “Every pretty lady wants to dance with someone else.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“I have this special ability to read between the lines.”
“Well my specialty is reading between the sheets.”
The comment lands like a third person on the bed. It’s a withering creature a cross between a baby and a calf. He scoops it off with, “sorry. I really don’t know where that came from.”
You laugh. It was so silly for something so bold to come out of his mouth.
“It’s fine. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you be that bold before. Usually I just watch you fumble around and finish up thoughts inside your head instead of out loud-“
“I do do that don’t I?”
“You said do do,” you giggle.
“Very mature.”
“Very manure.” Your giggles turn into a laugh, something’s cracked inside of you and it feels funnier than it probably is.
Harry nudges you with his elbow and it silences your laugh. It’s abrupt, and he notices. “Why’d you come in here anyway?” He asks. “I thought you’d be with Claire.”
“Were you looking for her? You could be with Claire now y’know,” you say. Some part of you knew you’re tipsy and you should shut up but in the darkness your cutting words feel blunted.
“What’s that mean?”
“Dylan the dick—that’s his new nickname just fyi. He fumbled the bag. She’s free for the taking now.”
“I feel like this violates some sort of girl-code. Shouldn’t you be warning me away?”
You scoff, “Harry don’t be coy. Everyone knows you tried to get together that first night we all met. You always look at her like a lost puppy.”
“I don’t.”
“Do so.”
“What’s it to you?“
You shrug. He’s close enough to feel it.
You were upset tonight. Angry. Angry at Dylan for being another a-hole. Angry at Claire for putting yet another man on a pedestal with all his potential he could never reach. They hadn’t labelled themselves for 3 months, what did she expect would happen?
Mostly you were upset at yourself. Because a part of you watched Claire put herself out there over and over, and you were upset that you couldn’t do the same. That your shallow bruises compares to Claire’s gashes had kept you locked up in your bedroom.
You admit it to yourself then: you kind of liked Harry. And you totally and absolutely hated it.
Because you watched him watch Claire, fumble his words with every woman you catch him with, push him away just so you don’t potentially get hurt. A part of you knows he wouldn’t like you like that. He treats you like you’re part of the furniture half the time. He’s given no indication of the sort. And you just weren’t the kind of girl to leave a confession like that hanging. You didn’t want a public unrequited crush.
It comes again. The wave of loneliness, the feeling that nobody ever has or ever will understand you. That you were an island with no dock, a house with no door. You were unknowable, and unforgettable.
“Why don’t I ever hear about your relationship exploits?” Harry suddenly asks. You forgot he was there and you startle. “Sorry were you falling asleep?”
“No.” You answer. “And because…because I’m not showy about that sort of thing. And it also doesn’t happen as often as you or Claire or Dylan the dick.”
“Wow the name’s really gonna stay.”
“Mhm.”
“Do you have a boyfriend now?”
“Nope.”
“What’s your last actual relationship?”
“A long time ago.”
“Me too.” He sighs. “My last proper girlfriend was in my early 20s. She moved city. We broke up after that, long-distance is hard. I feel like every year I age, I get worse at talking to women.”
“I can confirm.”
“Well not you. You’re easy to talk to.”
“Thanks,” you say dryly.
“Not like that.” He backtracks, sitting up as if you could see his face. “No not like that. You’re…nice. To look at. I don’t mean that I don’t see you as a women—because you are. I see that I uhm-“
“I think you’ll have to take back your previous statement.”
His head falls back on his pillow and he laughs, it sounds like he’s choking on air a little.
“Jeez, what was that?” He asks once he pulls himself together.
“Beats me,” you say with a smirk.
“It gets pretty lonely though right.”
You let his statement sit in the dark. You don’t agree or disagree. Doing so felt like admitting something vulnerable.
“Or maybe that’s just me.” He says after a while. “Maybe you have a great life and don’t fall in love with every other person you meet.”
“Do you actually?” Your interest was piqued.
“I can’t help it. I’m a musician, I just notice something small about them and suddenly a song is being written about them in my head without even realizing. So I just fall in love with a lot of random people. And I uhm, I don’t think I’ve ever admitted that to anyone!”
It was the dark. It was easier to be honest in it. No wonder churches kept their confessions in darkened corners.
You think about all the regular people you fall in love with every time you lift your camera to your face. How every person made you ache; there were whole worlds going on inside of them and you saw it all through the lens.
You wonder briefly if Harry ever wrote a song about you in his head but squash it. He barely took the time to look at you, definitely not long enough to notice you like you did him.
“Here’s my confession—same.” You try for the confession-in-the-dark thing. To make him feel better. “At least when I’m taking photos or making videos. Some people get camera shy but after talking to them they loosen up and getting to capture their whole essence in a picture or a video I just…makes me fall in love too. I like to imagine what everyone would be like in front of a camera. I dunno.”
“What a pair we make.” Harry reaches out and his hand brushes yours. You pull away, hating yourself while you do.
He clears his throat when you reject his bid to be closer, you feel his hand slide back to himself.
Harry didn’t know why sometimes it felt like you hated him and other times like you were friends. He just figured he didn’t understand women. On any spectrum.
“Y/n,” your name is loaded in the dark. You wait for him to continue but the silence stretches out.
“What?” You finally ask.
You feel the bed shift and move under you. He was turning. You feel his gaze on you. You turn your head to look back and he’s inches away. Alarms blare in your head, abort abort! But even in the darkness his eyes find some light to reflect.
Harry’s thinking the same thing about you. Somehow it’s dark but when you turn your head to look at him, your eyes twinkle with what little moonlight streams in from the window. Or maybe that was the streetlights. Either way, Harry wonders why it felt like this was the first time he’s ever seen you. How ironic that it’s in the dark too.
It happens without realizing, his mind starts to string together something about the girl laying in his bed shrouded in darkness, with light in her eyes. A girl with secrets-
The bed vibrates.
“Oh,” you turn away and take the intimate moment with you. You feel around and find your phone beside you. Claire’s face lights up the screen.
“Claire,” you sit up.
“I’m ready to go home,” Claire sniffles on the other end. “Where are you?”
“At the party. You’re still at the party right?”
“I’m just outside. I got some chips but I couldn’t find you so I finished them all.”
You laugh, “Lie. I know how you feel about sharing chips don’t worry.”
Harry watches you have this conversation. Your laugh finds its way right into his chest. He feels warm.
You look at him and hold your finger up, shimming off the foot of the bed.
“You bought two!?” You ask after Claire sniffles about how much she emotionally ate tonight.
“It’s your fault! I ate two because I couldn’t find you and they were getting cold.”
“Well I’m coming outside to save you now.”
You put the phone down and look back at Harry. He’s sat up in the bed and staring at you.
“I gotta go weirdo.”
“Yeah,” he says.
“Well…I dunno if we’ll see each other as much now that-“
“Yeah,” he agrees.
“So good luck? Until next time?” You laugh, but an awkwardness starts to creep in as Harry stays unresponsive and staring on the bed. “Uhm. Okay?? Bye…”
You leave Harry as he is. Did he get all weird because Claire was on the phone? Ugh. What a liar, you think. He was still just as obsessed with her.
You feel a little bad for goading him about it earlier but it doesn’t linger long. When you see Claire you gather her up in your arms and then the two of you set off arm-in-arm back to your small flat together.
***
“So what’s happening with Kate?” Dylan asks. Harry and him are sat at the pub a few weeks later, he’s already moved on from Claire to the girl on his arm. He didn’t know how his friend did it, if Harry had a girl like Claire he wouldn’t treat her like she was disposable.
But thinking of Claire didn’t have that same spark anymore. When he thought about it, she was beautiful and spirited, the kind of woman musicians like him write songs about. But there was someone else on his mind, the kind of woman someone could spend their whole career trying to compartmentalize into songs. Songs turning into albums. Only to find nothing beats her living spirit.
How could he be so dumb, he’d been beating himself up since that night in the dark. He’d had 3 months of being around her and he never actually looked at her. Always took her for granted. God, even that first night together had been the most fun Harry had had in ages. But he’d just turned her into a friend by proximity.
But weeks gone without her, knowing there was only pure chance of bumping into her, had made Harry a regretful heart.
“Hello? Did you scare her off?” Dylan asks.
“Nah. She’s not my type.” Harry responds.
“Harry I should set you up with one of my mates. She’d be perfect for you. She’s a teacher and…”
Harry listens to Dylan’s new girl describe a friend Harry couldn’t be arsed to go out with. All because he wanted something he couldn’t have anymore.
***
Harry runs into Claire at a pub a week later. His hopes soar as high as the sky when he thinks y/n might be here.
“Hi! Claire!” Harry awkwardly stops her as she walks past the bar where he sits. He was waiting for a few of his mates to watch the football match with. Dylan was luckily out of town today, otherwise this pub would have it’s roof blown off.
“Oh Harry hi,” she’s friendly. Harry didn’t think she’d be friendly towards him. She leans in for a hug. “How’ve you been?”
“Good! Ehm good yeah just making more music and stuff. You?”
“Better,” she rolls her eyes. “How’s Dylan the-“
“I’d rather not be in the middle. If that’s alright.” Harry says before he can think. He knew what his friend was, he didn’t want to talk about him.
“Fine.” She crosses her arms. “Yeah. I’m good.”
“Watching the game?”
“Sorta. My family’s down and I know y/n hates the ruckus my brothers make watching the game at home so I’m sticking them here.”
“Oh y/n’s not here?” Harry feels his hope evaporating.
“No. What’s the deal with you and her anyway? Why didn’t you ever…?”
“Y/n?”
“Yeah!”
“She’s not interested in me,” Harry laughs. He was also blind but he doesn’t say that.
“I mean, maybe not crazily but if you asked she would have said yes. She didn’t hate you.”
“Is that the standard now?” Harry jokes.
“It is with her,” she smiles with a look in her eye like there was more there. But of course, Harry doesn’t push.
“I…I dunno. I never thought she would be interested. It never occurred to me.”
“You’re such a guy,” she scolds. “You have anyone now or you’re still regularly putting your foot in your mouth?”
Harry flushes. “I don’t. And I don’t put my foot in my mouth.”
She rolls her eyes but the smile stays on her face. “Anyway, I’m grabbing the beers. I’ll talk to you later?”
Harry nods, suddenly unable to just ask for y/n’s number. Anything.
But as she walks away he realizes he’d had a whole conversation with Claire without overthinking or being a fumbling idiot once.
He thinks back, to the last couple weeks. He realizes it’s been a while since he’s done it.
Was I finally turning a corner, Harry thinks.
***
You had a gig today filming at a studio. Some indie duo but they were gaining popularity on Tiktok and wanted some bts footage of working in the studio for an upcoming music video. You weren’t going to ask questions. It paid decent money so you said yes.
You pull into the parking lot, grateful that Claire had a car you could borrow. It helped lugging around your equipment for videoshoots. Today it was just you as your PA was out sick. It wasn’t supposed to be a lot of angles so you figured it would be okay.
You consider the day a win by the time you pack up. The group were much younger than you but very outgoing and it made for a lot of funny and sweet footage. They also had amazing voices, you told them they were going on your playlists once you got home.
Your right hand goes weightless as you walk with your bags down the hall. You turn just as the helper speaks up.
“Looked like you could use a hand.”
“Harry I…what a surprise hi!” Your mood brightens at the sight of him, despite everything.
“Hi,” he shifts the bag in his hand to return your hug. His body is solid and warm. It made no sense but you missed something about him. “How was your shoot?”
“Really good! I was shooting a…wait how did you know?”
“I saw you in there?”
“I didn’t see you.”
“Yeah I um-“
“You had nothing to do with this right?”
“And if I did?” He meets your eye and you feel out of breath with whatever speaks through them. What was up with that?
“Uhmm I owe you a thank you!?!”
Harry offers a small smile, “I was looking at your work a couple weeks back. You’re really good. I just threw your name out to a few managers if they were looking for someone…”
Harry looks different with this new information. Or maybe this was a Harry that was actually paying attention to you, it was both intimidating and touching.
“Did I do something wrong?” He asks.
“No! No, thank you I…that’s…I’m grateful. Thank you. Can I get you a drink to say thanks?”
“Okay cuz your face was all scrunched up. I thought you were pissed.” He laughs. “And I have some things to finish up-“
“Oh right, you’re probably busy-“
“No no I would love to. Get drinks. With you.” Harry grows more awkward as the air between you crackles with something electric. Maybe, he thought, this is what happens when two people are on the same wavelength.
“Ok. Well when do you finish?”
Harry doesn’t quite hear your question. His head feels flooded with sand and he can’t stop looking at you, right in front of him finally. Why did he never notice your eyes and the way they take him in, your sweetness, the easygoing tilt of your head, or how how disarming your smile was. He chalked it up to being an idiot.
“Wait what-“ he laughs, feeling the blood flush his face. He was doing that thing again, where his brain stopped thinking in the attention of a pretty girl. “What’d you ask?”
“When you finish?” You ask, suddenly feeling shy yourself. You can feel the element of nervousness from him and it made this casual moment feel more intense.
“Maybe half hour?” Harry scratches his nose. “Are you heading somewhere now? You can hang out with me and we can go together?”
You thought about getting to see him work, it sounded promising. “Sure!”
Harry wipes his palm on his jeans and walks ahead, leading you down the hall and to the right. He opens it to a recording studio, gesturing to the chairs and taking the seat behind all the buttons. You set your things down and stand by the panel, curious what each of the controls did.
Harry glances up at you and you shoot a smile, about to ask if it was okay you watch, but he goes back to work just as quickly.
He was working on something that sounded like a pop song. You try to make out all the layers on the software he was using, it kind of looked the same when you edited a video. But there’s too many layers to distinguish.
Eventually you sit back down, admiring Harry in his element. Your mind drifts, and you wonder if everything that happened out in the hallway was a figment of your imagination or Harry was being weird with you. Because the thing about Harry being weird meant he was in his head about one thing.
You wonder, like you did every so often, what could have happened that night in the dark the last time you saw him if Claire hadn’t called. Harry had looked at you like he had just met you—with a good curiosity.
But then again, this was the same Harry that probably looked at Claire with the same look.
“Done.” Harry turns in his swivel chair with a grin an hour or so later.
“Great!” You shake off your thoughts and set your laptop down.
“Did you want to leave your things here?”
“I have a car I can put them in?”
“The place I was gonna take you to isn’t that far from here.”
So you agree, and leave your equipment in the studio. The two of you walk out, talking about what he was working on. He asks you about your shoot today and the conversation carries you to the pub he had picked out.
Conversation starts to fizzle out as you tuck into your booth seat.
“What you guys getting today?” The waitress appears almost instantly, it startles you.
You look at the menu and to her. She’s got a beautiful face, round cheeks framed by micro bangs and night-black eyebrows that made her look permanently unimpressed. And yet her rosy cheeks and button nose were a friendly addition to the severity of the rest of her.
You glance at Harry, ready for him to be a bumbling idiot around her. He glances at you from the menu when he senses you looking over and for a second you feel the loneliness creep in. Despite the warm smile he sends your way.
“Can we get a few more minutes?” Harry asks her. She pockets her things without another word and walks away.
“What’s good here?” You ask to fill the silence.
The two of you go over the menu and by the time the waitress returns you’re ready. You watch Harry ask her questions and place the order, confident and direct. His eyes slide to yours every so often and each time they do you feel your resolve slip a little more.
“What’s changed then Harry?” You tease when she leaves. You tease, but you seriously want to know. “I thought you’d be a puddle of words around a woman that gorgeous.”
“Her?” Harry glances back. “I guess. I’m not such a mess.”
“Oh you so are.” You laugh. “You’re all ums and uhs.”
“I’m…fine. I’m not so bad anymore!”
“Yeah so? What happened?”
He looks at you with such a serious look that your smile dies down.
“Drinks,” the waitress places them down on the table, saving the both of you from whatever would have come next.
“Thanks,” you tell her and pull the distraction towards you.
“Let’s just say,” Harry says after she leaves. “I gained some perspective.”
You raise an eyebrow, not wanting to push it any more. “Okay.”
For the first time in a while, your nerves overtake the anxious discomfort you usually lived with. Something was definitely happening here—you weren’t hallucinating. But you weren’t sure where it was going, and if you wanted it.
Of course you want it, stop convincing yourself otherwise, you tell yourself.
Why did vulnerability feel like facing mount everest in just your pjs.
“I bumped into Claire a few weeks ago, she seems to be doing well.” Harry says and you can’t help but overanalyze for a heartbeat. He’d brought Claire up after all.
“Oh she didn’t mention,” you reply.
“She was with her family? Said you kicked them out of the flat-“
“Oh!” You laugh. “Yeah her brothers get stupidly rowdy when the football’s on. This one time I had an interview early the next morning and—this was before I knew how loud they could get. And I was up. Until 2am nearly to tears! Finally I snapped, they call it the y/n-geddon. Then of course I felt so bad I couldn’t sleep for another two hours. Now we just draw boundaries.”
Harry laughs at your story. “Sounds scary. Now it makes sense though.”
“Better for everyone,” you laugh. “But yeah. Claire’s been good, it was nice her family was down she’s always more herself when they do.”
Your food arrives and you put the conversation on pause as you tuck in.
“How about you?” Harry asks. “Your family?”
You tell him about your family and the conversation moves on to moving out, living in the city. It branches out naturally like a tree, and both of you relax into each other’s company.
It was really nice, you admit to yourself. It felt like talking to an actual person rather than the shell of someone. Which is how it felt like talking to Harry in the past. The only soggy bread was the butty dipped in your soup.
You pay, as you insist it was to thank him for the help. It’s cooler out when you had back to the studio for your things and there’s more people out; those free of their office jobs and roaming for a drink to relax into.
The studio’s empty and you head towards your bags, asking Harry if he was heading home too.
“Yeah, I’ve been here since 6 so I think I’m ready to go home.”
“Shite that’s early!”
“Deadlines!” He sighs. “What can ya do.”
“Can I give you a ride somewhere at least?”
“If you’re going in the direction of the station I’ll hop in.”
“Yeah sure!”
“Good thing you have a car with all that equipment.”
“Yeah my thoughts this morning. But that reminds me of all the footage I have to edit.” You say. “Thanks to you.”
“Anytime. Anytime y/n. I’m gonna keep whispering your name around. You’ll be fully booked soon just watch and see.”
“You don’t have to,” you set your things back on the ground. It didn’t seem like Harry was in a hurry to get out.
“I want to,” he replies seriously. The room feels smaller than it did seconds ago, or maybe the awareness of Harry’s proximity tightened the space between you.
“Thanks,” you try to meet his eye as you say it but it’s hard to. His gaze strips away any doubt you had; his feelings are written all over his face. All you could think was: Holy Fuck what is this
“It’s my pleasure,” he says which just sucks any remaining oxygen out of the room.
When you’re on autopilot you don’t even think, you just go through the motions. That’s what it felt like, one second you’re standing opposite Harry. The next you’re standing right in front of him and his lips are on yours.
Maybe you just imagined this scene so much it became repetitive and now this—kissing him, felt so familiar.
He’s nothing like the timid and awkward Harry you watch at parties and pubs. He’s sure of himself, kissing you in the exact way to soothe your past aches; your loneliness is washed away like ocean tides over words etched in the sand. You get lost in it. In him.
You don’t know when his hands slide around your waist and pull you in. His lips are soft and gentle. Your mind blanks as the sensation of being held, of his touch, spreads. You don’t realize you stop kissing back, just for a second, until he pulls away.
Harry takes a deep breath, face pink and brows furrowed. This felt right, but was he reading it wrong? He did that often.
You take a small step back, needing the space to process. It felt right, better than your imagination, and you couldn’t deny the pull you felt to him.
“So um,” you bite your lip. “You still want that ride?”
“Where is it going?” He asks, the tightness in his chest easing a little when you look up at him, head tilted and a nervous expression on. He wasn’t reading it wrong. Both of you were just a little overwhelmed.
“Anywhere you want it to. I was thinking it could go home.”
“Mmm,” he nods. “Home sounds nice.”
With a smile exchanged, he lifts most of your equipment to the car. You have to take a beat outside the car just to force your brain to go from scrambled to whole so you can manage the drive home. It took every ounce of concentration.
Claire’s not home when you get there and you’re so grateful for that. Firstly, you just wanted to get him back into your bedroom. Secondly, you wanted this just between the two of you. At least for today.
You drop her a text in case, like you two usually did. You tell her you had company over.
The rest of the night can be spent uninterrupted.
You set everything in the living room and take Harry back to your bedroom.
He looks around curiously, taking in the photos on the walls and the things on the dresser.
You watch him, feeling a little exposed. he was looking. Seeing. You. It was different. Good different.
Harry looks at you with a question and you answer by closing the space between you; he reaches his arms out and your body is engulfed by him. Your lips meet, this time less hesitant.
It’s not long before Harry pulls you towards the bed, falling backwards with you on top of him. You straddle his hips and kiss him like a teenager. You feel his fingers brush your waist and tug at the bottom of your top.
It’s off in an instant and you try to hide the smile as Harry takes in the sight of you, his eyes filling with awe. He was such a dork. But it made you feel empowered, and seen. You reach for his shirt and he lets you take it off.
When you lean forward again, chests pressed together, his hands find the small of your back. They trace circles there, sending shivers up your spine.
You take the cue and kiss him slowly, rocking your hips against him. He gasps, his hands tightening as you trail kisses along his neck.
The sounds he makes go straight to your core and you feel the familiar flutter that tells you to hurry. You move back, undoing his jeans and helping him slide them off.
“You’re alright with this?” He breathes into your skin.
Your heart thuds in your ribcage, but mostly from anticipation; you never realized how long you wanted this for. Wanted him.
“Of course,” you pause and so does he. “Took you long enough.”
With a wry smile he covers your mouth with his and soon the two of you find a rhythm that no song could compete with. You find company in someone you’d sworn could never be yours.
It’s bliss.
***
The sun filters through the window and casts a warm light across your floor.
You were in your own bed, and in the middle of the mattress with a leg thrown over the edge was Harry, sound asleep. Tbe weight of his arm over your waist and the steady sound of his breathing is the proof you needed that this was real. He was real.
The two of you hadn't bothered to get dressed last night. It was an unspoken understanding that this wasn’t the end.
You turn onto your side; it was a nice view.
It was a nice morning, actually. The first morning in a while where you not only woke to a warm body, but one that felt like it belonged. That wasn’t going anywhere
Claire must be somewhere in the flat, you realize. You hadn’t heard her come in.
Harry starts to stir as light fills the room. His eyes squint open and his left hand comes up to cover his face.
You reach over to run your fingers through his hair and he sighs, his face relaxing into a smile.
Harry turns to you, eyes finally open and alert and your heart thumps happily.
There was no need for words.
You snuggle closer and he wraps an arm around you. You bury your face into his neck and breathe in his scent.
He laughs quietly, his chest rumbling under you. You kiss him and he responds in kind.
This time there was no rush.
The morning was warm, and so were you.
5 months later
You get there early, you wanted a moment before the guests to take in your accomplishment. Sure you’d been published on websites and magazines before. Your dream has always been to live forever on an album cover. And you’d finally done it.
The venue was a sparkly room thanks to all the disco balls. They contrasted against the rich fabric and wood beams all over the space.
You take a ton of pictures to send to your friends and family.
You mingle with guests as they come in, trying not to give in too much to the hollowed out feeling that came with a string of strangers and the tiresome small talk. You smile and introduce yourself, you know this was how connections were made. In rooms like this.
You feel him come in as you give in to a second drink. You’re at the bar, and your eyes lift up to the entrance and there’s Harry. Your Harry.
Harry’s eyes skim the crowd looking for someone. His someone. No other person mattered until he could locate her. That’s how it felt these days. A million faces could blur by but hers was the one he looked for every time.
He sees her. Looking at him. Of course she’s already spotted him.
You watch as his face splits into an eager smile, his hand raising above his head.
Harry was like fresh lemonade poured into a cup of ice, all of the tiring talks and fake smiles from before vanish as you drink him in. He’s looking at you, only you. You’re looking at only him.
“Sorry I’m late,” he says as a greeting.
“That’s alright,” you peck his lips. “I was just taking a breather.”
“Is the band here? My phone died on the ride so I couldn’t check in.”
“I thought I saw one of them somewhere in that crowd,” you point to the right.
Harry had gotten you this gig. It was the third thing he’d helped you get and slowly you were able to take on less and less wedding and marketing jobs and focus on the music industry. It filled your days and nights with passion-fuelled hard work. You loved every second of it.
And when you weren’t working, you spent time with Harry. It had been 5 months since you started dating. Neither of you questioned what your labels were. You just knew there was nothing else you two could be.
You teased him a lot, how he took the long way to finally recognize the truth. But he made up for it all the time. He made sure you knew how you were the only one for him.
“That is one perfect album,” Harry slips his hand around your waist. Your photograph is blown out to a tapestry and hangs in the middle of the space. It was a sophomore album for the band and with their debut a hit, this tapestry was going to be signed and auctioned. Eventually it would sit somewhere, your photograph, coveted as a piece of music history.
“This is unreal,” you squeeze Harry. “How amazing is it that we both got to work on this album in our own specialties?”
“A perfect match I’d say,” he kisses you.
“What a pair we make,” you grin.
“I see many more shared projects in our future,” Harry promises.
“I’d like that.” It was one of the things you loved about being with Harry, your creativity and how both of you shared a similar industry at times. It brought you closer together, swapping ideas and stories.
“One day I’m going to need album art for the EP I release.”
“Ooh yes,” you clutch his arm. Lately Harry has been spending some times with his head in a brand new notebook, he said he was working on his personal project. “I can’t wait for that day. I have so many ideas of styling you.”
You had a particular image that sat on your phone from the very first night you met. One where he’s dancing alone in a crowd, red lighting casting half his face in shadow and the other in a vibrant scarlet. His eyes are closed and his brows scrunched as his body flows with movement, even in a still picture. You adored it. It was one of the best photos you ever took.
“Me?” Harry looks down at you. He knew whatever songs he pulled together for an EP would be about you. His rush to write recently were from all the time spent being in your presence. It was intense, it had only been 5 months of dating, but somehow he thought you might understand. “I was thinking the cover art could be the subject of my songs.”
“Oh?” You tilt your head.
“Yeah,” he smiles. “How do you feel about self-portraits?”
Your face grows slack as it dawns on you. He had a whole EP in mind, about you.
“Well?” He twitches his hand on your waist, tugging you a little closer.
“Self-portraits sound a bit lonely,” you will your eyes not to tear up.
“But you won’t be,” Harry tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. “You have me. You won’t ever be lonely.”
“I know,” you feel the emotion catch in your throat as you gaze up into his photographic eyes. You can’t explain it but your body feels grounded—more grounded than it’s ever been. Here in his arms you felt together, like you were a book finally finding a shelf to lean on.
The two of you stand side by side and look at the people this collaborative masterpiece brought together. The room fills with the energy of the music. It was special.
"I love you," Harry reminds you.
"I love you too," you respond.
Your life hadn’t change all at once, not really. The biggest thing that changed was Harry. His presence, his attitude, his attention—it shifted. He wasn’t just a guy on the periphery, in proximity. He had you in his sights and he in yours.
You noticed small new things about him, and you wondered if everyone did. He was more confident and present, rooted to and with you. Both of you had bloomed, like caterpillars into butterflies. A pair of butterflies—you should tell him that.
Sometimes you thought you were just born lonely, it’s how it always was and has been. With Harry, you felt less lonely. You felt like things could really change for you.
You extend your hand to him and motion to the dance floor. It was a tradition now—no dance floor would go unmarked by the two of you.
He takes your hand and you lead him there. And with you in his arms he feels set free, like always.
Out of the cocoon and into the embrace of belonging, two butterflies dance in plain sight.