The Love Club

Sixteen

Tinley shifts uncomfortably beside me as the boys say their goodbyes to the crowd before hopping backstage. There’s a small staircase that they stumble their way down, Harry’s eyes searching for me when he finally catches his balance on the floor. I ignore him in favor of watching Niall stop dead in his tracks, which casues Harry to fall straight into him. 

“You’re going on a date,” I declare, clapping my hands together.

“Have fun, mate,” Harry says, giving him a hearty slap on the back for good luck. Niall stares at Tinley in wide-eyed shock, but I’m busy with Harry. I reach out and grab his collar as he begins to walk away, pulling him back toward me. He gags dramatically and I roll my eyes.

“You both are,” I tell him, and he furrows his brows.

“What?”

“I have two separate reservations for you boys at Milano’s, just round the corner from the hotel. Hurry and get showered, it’s in an hour.”

“What?” Harry repeats, and Niall laughs hysterically, pointing in Harry’s direction.

“You absolute idiot,” he says through wheezes, but I step in his direction and shove him down the corridor in the direction of his dressing room before he can do much else. When I turn to Harry, he’s still watching me with his brows furrowed.

“With who?” he finally manages to ask, his voice laced with confusion.

“Victoria. The girl in the red dress from the bar last night?”

“How did you even find her?” he asks, pulling at his lip.

“She gave me her number in the loo.”

“Why?”

I cross my arms over my chest, cocking my head to one side. I’ve been asking myself the same question since she’s given it to me, but I don’t say that.

“I’m your matchmaker, Harry. It’s what you’re paying me to do,” I tell him, and he lets his eyes fall from my face down to his shoes. “Go get showered.”

He stands there a moment longer before nodding to himself and taking a few steps down the hall. A moment later, he stops and turns to look at me.

“You want me go on this date?” he asks, his eyes searching my face.

I swallow, unable to answer. I feel suddenly hot, and while it might have to do with the fireworks from the show that have shot into the sky just moments before, or the body heat from passers by as they rush to clean off the stage, I strongly suspect it has more to do with Harry’s green-eyed stare.

“Truly?” he asks, his voice so soft I can’t even be sure he’s asked it.

I’m struggling to lie to him. Saying the word is the easy part, but being convincing about it is trickier. 

But I’ve been lying my whole life. I lie when Felicity asks if I’m getting enough sleep at night. I lie when my dad asks me if I’m overworking myself. I lie when extended family members from Nebraska call and ask if I’m still doing okay without my mum, even years later. And I lie when asked if I’m all right with being alone. So in the strongest, evenest, most emotionless voice I can, I answer him.

“Yes.”

He turns his back to me and strides down the hallway. I blink and he’s gone.

So I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding and focus on Tinley, who has just watched the exchange between the two of us with interest.

“Don’t ask,” I sigh, taking a seat beside her.

“I don’t think I have to,” she replies.

I want to explain it to her, but there’s no way. Even without the weird supernatural soulmate radar I have, the situation is more complicated than that. Trying to understand Harry’s intentions with me is like trying to read a book in a foreign language I’ve never even heard. Some of the words look familiar, but they’re jumbled up in a sentence I don’t understand. 

We sit like that, side by side in silence, for twenty minutes. She watches as workers and crew members rush this way and that to clean up and prepare for the show tomorrow night. She’s observant, a true people-watcher if I’ve ever seen one, and despite the fact that I’m so lost in thought I can’t even attempt a conversation, she entertains herself. 

When Niall and Harry appear again in clean clothes, hair still damp from their showers, I wordlessly stand and lead them toward an exit where I’ve arranged for a car to be waiting. I climb into the furthest seat in the back and Harry slumps down beside me. This leaves room for Tinley and Niall in the middle row, and a driver and security detail in the very front.

Harry occupies his time staring out the window, and I feel too uncomfortable to try to break this awkward tension between us. I can’t fathom why he’d be upset with me for doing what he wanted me to do in the first place, and I chalk it up to exhaustion or confusion before I decide to eavesdrop on Niall and Tinley’s conversation.

“What made you change your mind?” he asks.

Tinley sucks in a deep breath before shrugging nonchalantly, her eyes darting this way and that to avoid having to look Niall in the face. “Mina can be persuasive, and I didn’t have anything better to do.”

Try as I may, I’ll never understand why it is so important to girls like Tinley to always act cool and disinterested. It’s plain for me to see that Niall has piqued her interest, and she’s curious about how his life works. Why she still feels the need to try to be detatched is beyond me.

“So what is this restaurant anyways,” Harry finally speaks. When I turn to him, he’s scrolling through some internet article on his phone, not looking at me.

“Milano’s,” I answer. “It was nearby. Seafood, I think.”

He cringes, finally looking up from his phone to glare at me.

“I hate seafood.”

I pause. It had completely slipped my mind, the way he stuck his tongue out in disgust at my salmon order.

“In my defense, that isn’t something I knew until last night.”

He rolls his eyes. “Soup and salad it is,” he mutters, but he hits his foot against my leg playfully and I try to surpress a smile. For a moment, everything is right in the world again. 

“Are you coming in?” Harry asks when we pull up to the curb outside Milano’s. Niall is already out on the sidewalk, offering a hand to let Tinley out. I note this with a smile, trying to make sure I remember to compliment him on his chivalry later. 

“I thought I might grab a salad for dinner at the bar, make sure everything is going okay.”

“No faith in me?” he asks in mock offense.

“No faith in that one,” I answer, cocking my head in Niall’s direction as I crawl up to the front of the car and exit. Niall and Tinley are already inside and Harry shuts the door firmly behind him. 

“I don’t know if I’m comfortable with this,” Harry finally says, and I stop for a moment on the sidewalk, glancing back at him over my shoulder.

“You haven’t even spoken to Victoria. I don’t know why you’re so against it, she’s gorgeous,” I answer.

“No, I’m sure she’s lovely. She’s just not...” he trails off, shaking his head slightly as if trying to find the right words. I stand there for a moment longer with my hand on the door, waiting, but whatever it is, he seems incapable of saying it. I can’t be sure under the street lights in the night, but his face looks as if it might be gaining color. 

“You shouldn’t be nervous,” I finally say. “You’re Harry bloody Styles, for chrissake.”

He closes his eyes and laughs, and I jerk the door to the restaurant open before I can change my mind about letting him go. When we step in, I send him off with the hostess while I make my way over to the bar. It’s a prime viewing position, but when I catch a glimpse of Victoria in a long bohemian skirt and a silky cardigan that is the exact ensomble I imagine Harry’s soulmate might wear, I reconsider my options.

Harry greets her with a hug, the way he does everyone, but I bite back bile. Victoria’s hair is a straight curtain down her back tonight, and she tosses it effortlessly over her shoulder. She smiles and her eyes are lit up as she takes her seat opposite him. A moment later, he says something that has her brows lifted in amusement as he leans in, charismatic and charming as ever.

“Can I help you miss?” the bartender asks, and I nearly jump out of my skin. He apologizes for startling me when I turn to him. 

“I’d just like to place an order to go,” I finally manage to say, and he nods, asking me what I’d like. Lamely, I ask for a shrimp caesar salad, and as he punches this into a computer, I catch sight of a tall bottle of wine on the shelf behind him.

“How much for that bottle of strawberry wine behind you?” I ask, and the bartender glances at me for a moment before looking over his shoulder at the product. When he answers my question, I tell him I’ll take that as well. No need to glance at the table behind me to know I’ll be needing it tonight.

He rings out my order and promises to have it out to me within the next few minutes. I run a hand through my hair, turning to scan the dining room in the hopes of spotting Niall and Tinley. They’re situated in a booth on the opposite end of the room, making conversation as they flip through a menu. It might be a trick of the light, Tinley looks as if she’s smiling, her shoulders moving slightly as she laughs at something Niall has said. He’s beaming like he’s won a prize, and perhaps he has.

A brown bag is set on the bar, and I turn at the sound. The top of the bottle of wine is peeking out between the handles, over the top of the bag. I take it and thank the bartender as I stand to make my way toward the door. 

I can’t help but spare a glance over at Harry’s table. He’s spouting on about something and Victoria takes a sip of her glass of wine, nodding with a small smile at whatever it is he’s saying. They seem to be getting on well, and I turn away before I let my jealousy get the best of me and will something awful to happen. It’s wrong to deny Harry happiness, even if it comes at the expense of my own pain.

Stepping out into the night after a quiet thank you to the hostess, I inhale the summer air and begin in the direction of the bed and breakfast. I know Gatsby is there, curled in a ball on my pillow, anxiously awaiting my arrival. I imagine the other boys are out with their significant others, who are all in town to see them. Love is certainly in the air tonight, and despite the bitterness I feel in the pit of my stomach, I can’t help but feel light from it all. It’s like a drug to me, a dreamy hazy opiate that feeds my energy, and even in the worst of moods, I can’t say I’m all together unhappy. It’s a side effect of this whole cupid deal, one that can be both a blessing and a curse. 

I push my way into the bed and breakfast, nodding at the clerk behind the grand mahogany desk. She nods in my direction, recognizing me from my comings and goings with the boys as well as on my own. Security is tight outside, but the guards have come to know me by now, some even calling me to have a good night by using my name. 

I make my way up the flights of stairs to my room, inserting the old fashioned skeleton key and turning the lock. Gatsby pokes her head up at my arrival, but when she realizes I’m not Harry, she lets it fall again with a soft mew of greeting.

Glad to know I’m no longer her favorite. 

I slip off my heels and set the bag on an old fashioned trunk at the foot of my bed. My next destination is my suitcase, where I locate a pair of cotton shorts and a cami to sleep in. I change quickly, not bothering to pick up my clothes from the ground as I dig around for a make-up remover wipe. 

When I’m done with all that, I let out a dramatic yawn and pad back over to the bed, snatching up the wine and my salad. Gatsby is eyeing me suspiciously when she catches sight of the tall, pink bottle. She’s seen it before and has come to associate it with heavy pettings and bone-crushing hugs while I coo Shania Twain’s Still The One in her ear far too loudly.

I stare straight back at her unapologetically as I pull the wrappings from the bottle and get to work with an emergency corkscrew I had packed just in case of emergency. She mews disapprovingly, and I ignore her, breathing in relief when the cork comes loose.

Next, I open the container which holds my salad. I reach in and pick up a piece of shrimp, popping it into my mouth before unwrapping the provided plastic utensils. 

I’ve only just begun eating when I start to feel unsettled by the silence in the room. I can still feel Gatsby’s stare on me as I take a long drag from the bottle, and in a desperate attempt to distract us both, I reach over for my computer and pull up Spotify. Shania does sound like a viable option, so I turn on her duet with Brian White and sing along to her parts around mouthfuls of caesar salad and strawberry wine. The tastes don’t mix very well, but I’m beyond caring. By the time I’ve finished my dinner, a quarter of the wine is gone and I’m just getting started.

The song finishes, but I hit the repeat button. For some reason, the country western wedding ballad from the 90’s is really hitting the spot tonight. I’m not drunk yet, but I’m buzzing. I take another long drink before dramatically mustering up the courage to snatch Gatsby from her spot on the pillow and folding her over my shoulder, holding one paw out like a dancing partner.

“I give my hand to you with all my heart,” I tell her, horribly off key as we twirl around the room. She hisses at me. “Can’t wait to live my life with you, I can’t wait to start.”

The next is a harmony in the song, and I instinctively take Shania’s part as I belt out, “You and I will never be apart.”

I pause upon realizing the harmony isn’t coming from my speakers. It’s coming from the doorframe, where a tall figure leans over in breathless laughter. I drop my cat to the ground, and she scrambles to land on all fours.

“Harry,” I breathe, mortified. He’s still laughing, his face red as he cackles harder. At a loss as to what I should do, I cross the room and smack him hard on the shoulder. When he doesn’t cease laughing, I hit him harder on the back, then poke him hard in the side.

“You’re on a date!” I cry, my voice strained from the effort it’s taking me to be violent. He doesn’t even seem slightly fazed by my attempts at bodily injury as he catches my wrists and pushes me away. He still keeps his hands locked around me as he catches his breath, shutting the door behind him with his foot.

“We finished eating,” he shrugged, still grinning from ear to ear. A moment later, his smile falls, as does his hands from my wrists.

“You left,” he told me.

“I didn’t feel well,” I lie.

“You felt good enough to crack into a bottle of wine, I see,” he says, nodding in the direction of my half-emptied bottle. I shrug, turning from him to take another drink of it. When I’ve finished, I offer it to him, and he stares at it for a moment in contemplation before accepting it.

“You two seemed to be getting on well without me, anyway,” I comment, watching the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. 

“She’s fun,” he says as he hands me back the bottle. “I don’t think another date will be necessary, though.”

“Why?” I ask, perplexed.

“No chemistry,” he answers, distracted by Gatsby’s appearance at his feet. He leans down to slip off his shoes before scooping my cat into his arms and scraching under her chin. “You’ve seen a lot of shit, haven’t you, Catsby?” he asks, and I give him one last good slap before bringing the wine to my lips again. 

“I really do think you should give her another shot,” I say, but he doesn’t answer. He’s too focused on giving Gatsby a good rub.

I sigh, reaching over to turn down the music where it’s still blaring. It’s restarting again, but I turn it off before he can call me out on listening to the same shitty love song on repeat. There’s a silence that settles between us, and though we were laughing and sharing wine a few moments ago, I suddenly feel self-conscious. I’m still breathless from the dancing with my cat and attacking Harry, but I also feel nervous. Harry’s silence seems ominous.

“Can I ask you something?” 

It’s as if he’s read my mind, is speaking on que. 

“What?” 

“Did you lie to me earlier?”

“When?”

It’s a senseless question; I know exactly what he’s talking about. How he knew I was lying, I don’t know. What’s important now is the way he’s looking at me, serious despite the flush in his cheeks. I know he’s had a few glasses of wine at dinner himself, and now he’s getting started on my alcohol as well. 

“You know when.”

I bite down on my lip as I think about what to say. I want to hide behind something, so I reach for the wine and take another swig before setting the bottle over on my bedside table. With my feet crossed beneath me, my shoulders bare and my face washed clean, I feel completely exposed when I answer, “Yes.”

This time when I say the words, I mean it.

When I look over to him, he’s giving Gatsby one last good pet as he sets her on the ground. A moment later, his lips find mine.

I’m not sure how to respond at first, so taken by surprise. He doesn’t seem bothered by my slow reflexes, only relaxing when I begin to kiss him back. One hand is at my waist, pulling me toward him as I sit up on my knees to meet him half-way. He’s taller than I am, leaning into me as he works his lips against mine. 

I’m truly drunk now, not just from the liquor, but from the taste of his tongue. It’s a mixture of strawberry from the wine, a minty taste from the gum he must have chewed after his meal, and salt left over from whatever soup he’d decided on just an hour or two ago. I drink it up.

He guides me backward into a laying position, and I pull back for a moment in desperate need of oxygen. Harry busies himself elsewhere, his lips trailing over my jaw, behind my ear, making his way down my neck toward my collar bone.

I’m electrified. I’m warm all over. And despite the amount of times it has felt like I’ve fallen for someone as I make a match for another person, it’s never been so strong and pronounced as when Harry drags his tongue across my clavicle. 

Holy shit, I think as I lace my fingers through his curls to bring his mouth back to mine. My eyes meet his for a moment before he’s attatched to me again, and I feel absolutely weightless despite the security of his strong arms. This is what I’ve been missing.

I hear a sound nearby, but I’m so wrapped up in where Harry’s hands are on my person that it takes me far too long to realize it’s his phone. It’s in his pocket, vibrating, and it tickles against my thigh as it rings. I think he might let it go to voicemail, but I push him away and breathe instructions for him to answer it. His puffy, swollen lips pout before he extracts himself from me to wrangle the mobile from his jeans. When he answers, he is still breathless, pushing hair out of his face. 

I lay beside him as he speaks to whoever it is who is on the other line, a trace of annoyance in his every word. I smile at the sound, knowing I’m the reason. Bringing a hand to my head, I run my fingers through my messed up hair before pushing myself up into a sitting position. 

Harry is pulling at his lip as he listens to whoever is speaking. He sighs, resigned, and mutters assent before hanging up.

“I have to go,” he tells me, green irises flickering over to me. “We’re recording this book thing and something’s gone wrong and they need me to read over it tonight so they can send it in...”

“Get out,” I tell him, throwing a pillow at his face. He looks upset until he sees my smile, the slight giggle I’ve developed at the sight of him, his face full of color and his movements unsure. It seems I’m not the only one entering uncharted territory.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he promises as he stands. I nod as I follow him to the doorway, ready to lock it when he leaves. He has his hand on the door knob, ready to open, when he turns to look at me. I stand, frozen under his gaze, unsure of what to read in it. A moment later he cracks a smile and slips through the door.

I lock it after him, shut off the lights, and slide into bed. My body still feels like it’s on fire in the most pleasant way possible, but as I slip into unconsciousness, I feel I’m standing at a precipice. Is it worth the fall if I break everything in the process? I can’t say for certain, but the lingering scent of Harry’s cologne beckons me toward the edge.

Note to readers

Oops?

So much to say to you all! I've waited so long for this to happen and I cannot wait to hear your responses! Also, thank you so much for your nominations in the Red and White Awards! Hearts Like Ours has been nominated for Most Creative Plot-line and The Love Club is up for Best Secondary Character for Niall! Naturally, I had to give you all an update in gratitude, and I hope you are all pleased. 

PLEASE let me know what you're thinking here or at beggingforfics.tumblr.com! Much love to you all.

Also, check out the bomb ass banner strawberrywine at 1DFF made for me. Isn't it to die for?