I'm Not Gay

17

After arriving at the pub, Harry disappeared into the back and started doing the task he usually didn’t mind—restocking of shelves—but even such an easy, repetitive job proved to be difficult that day.

He couldn’t focus on anything. He kept catching himself staring off into space, his mind elsewhere.

“What’s wrong with you today, boss?” Zoe said.

Flinching, Harry glared at her half-heartedly. “Nothing.”

She snorted. “If you say so, boss.”

One day he was going to sack her for having no respect for him. Even her “boss” was mocking, Harry was sure of it. Not that he blamed her for secretly mocking him. He would probably mock himself too if he had a loser like him as his boss.

Zoe raised her eyebrows with a smirk. “You just seem very distracted today. That’s all I’m saying.” Her words were perfectly ordinary, but there was little doubt as to what she was implying.

Women were fucking scary. How did she know?

Harry scowled at her and said in his most authoritative voice (which he suspected wasn’t very authoritative), “Get back to work, Zoe.”

Rolling her eyes, Zoe did get back to work.

Harry… Harry tried to. He still couldn’t focus for shit. He kept thinking about the most stupid, ridiculous things like Zayn’s mouth, Zayn’s hands, Zayn’s dark gaze, and Zayn’s muscular body on top of him. He kept getting a boner remembering all the sex they’d had last night, the filth Zayn whispered into his ear as he fucked Harry hard, his scent, the feel of his stubble against his skin, his arms around him—

“Get a fucking grip,” Harry said as he dropped another can because of his distracted state.

He was a fucking mess. He was acting like a fifteen-year-old girl who’d had her first cock and now couldn’t get enough. This was ridiculous. He needed to focus on his work, not daydream about his best mate’s various body parts. He really was acting like a schoolgirl with a crush. A very horny schoolgirl with a crush. 
Enough.

Nodding resolutely to himself, Harry reached for another box.

He wondered what Zayn was doing.
Harry groaned. This was really ridiculous. It had been two and a half hours since he’d left the Maliks house, for fuck’s sake. He was acting like those clingy girlfriends who couldn’t live without checking on their boyfriend every hour. Not that Zayn was his boyfriend—which was the point. Zayn wasn’t his boyfriend, because Harry wasn’t gay.

“At least tell me if she’s hot, boss,” Zoe said, grinning. “Do I know her?”

Harry glowered at her. “Get back to work.” 

“Come on, boss, I’m curious!” Zoe said. “I’ve never seen you like that.”

“Like what?” he gritted out.

She smirked. “All dreamy-eyed.”

To Harry’s mortification, he felt himself blush. “I’m not dreamy-eyed.”
 
Zoe’s smirk was still there. “So who is she? Come on, maybe I can help you out. I’m a woman, too. I can give you a woman’s perspective.”

Harry snorted and muttered, “I don’t need a woman’s perspective.”

When her eyes widened, he deeply regretted his careless words.

“Blimey. You’re mooning over a bloke?”

“I’m not mooning,” Harry gritted out.

Her smile was coy. “But it is a bloke. Wow. I thought you were totally straight. The straightest bloke to ever straight.”