Haven • H.S.

21. Over It

Haven- 21

"...high up above or down below, when you're too in love to let it go. but if you never try then you'll never know just what you're worth.."

Harry.

        Over a year and a half ago, Louis Tomlinson was my first friend.

        Of course, that was when I first got to Harvard. When I was fresh out of the small world of high school, and desperate to make something of me and the world around me.

        A few months ago I would've never been able to thank Louis enough for single handedly being the reason for my renowned social status. A few months ago I would have owed him everything. A few months ago he was the thread that held my pitiful life together. Booze. Girls. Parties.

        I still don't recount the real reason I ever stopped my engraved ways like that. Cold turkey. And I don't think I'd be able to explain it to someone. It was one of those times times where you wake up on a lonely Monday morning thinking into your cold sheets, "That was it. I've had my fun and now I have nothing to look forward to until the next weekend; the next party."

        And I thought to myself, what kind of person does that make me?

        I wanted something more substantial for myself. I wanted something-- someone-- that would bring out the person I wanted to outshine. Because I knew he was in there somewhere deep, somewhere unattainable to my own motives. And whether that made me too hopeful; too full on the thought of someone wanting me in a way only the movies described, then I was willing to admit to it.

        It was the single best decision I'd made in my life.

        I found Ella because of it.

        And now, staring across the room, hands occupied with shot glasses and coins, I took in the man that was once someone I wanted to be.

        My stomach churned uncomfortably. Turning to Ella, I said, "Would you hate me if we left now?"

        She laughed but her face pinched in question. "I wouldn't hate you. Is that what you want to do?"

        "Very much so." If we left now, we'd be home in half an hour tops, we'd get under the covers or snuggle on my couch, and essentially wipe my mind from even seeing Louis again. That was ideal.

        "Alright." She shrugged like the good-natured person she was. She took a hold of my hand. "We'll go."

        "Whoa, did I just hear that right, Styles?" Stopping in my tracks, I turned to the familiar, deceiving face. I pulled Ella behind me protectively. "Leaving early? Since when was that your MO, mate?"

        We're not mates. "Have shit to do," I said shortly. 

        "Shit to do, or chicks to do?" He winked, and before I denied his filthy words with an asinine comment, he continued derogatorily, "Haven't seen you around in a long fucking time. What's with that? You drop off the planet or some shit?"

        Instinctively, I squeezed Ella's hand tighter, hating that she even had to hear this conversation; hated that she was even in his line of sight.

        I went so quickly from honoring the guy to, for lack of a better term, despising his guts. The people surrounding me with red cups in their hands and flirty smiles on their faces would disown my existence if they knew I loathed the one person they loved.