Something Great

Chapter 8

Harry's POV

It takes me a few minutes to realize that Niall has been shouting at me to get my attention. Finally taking stock of my surroundings, I remember that I'm at the pub Niall's mate Patrick owns. Can't even be bothered to recall the name of it. I also remember, rather belatedly, that I'm supposed to be having fun tonight. A lad's night out, with beer, loud music, and women, at least if Niall has anything to do with it. I glance over at Niall, who's joined a bunch of guys (obviously pissed out of their minds) in the middle of a very rowdy rendition of some Irish folk song. Gotta admire his enthusiasm. Despite all the "fun" happening around me, I can't quite get my head in the game.  For some reason, it's not holding it's usual appeal tonight, and I can't be arsed to give a shit.

Having finished his song, Niall takes it upon himself to be my personal cheerleader. "Harry, stop being a moody wanker and pull the stick out of your arse. We need to find you some fit bird to pull. You're too uptight, and desperately need to get your dick wet. For the sake of anyone that has to deal with with your sorry arse." Glancing to his left, he appears to perk up, and I can almost see his sneaky wheels turning, "Look, hot blonde at the end of the bar." I obligingly glance in said blonde's direction. "She's been eye fucking you for at least the past hour." I know, I'd noticed. "Go. Give little Harry a night out." I smirk at his rather impassioned plea, but promptly tell him to fuck off.  "Really? No interest in the blonde? Are you not well?" This gets him a massive eye roll from me. "Ni, if you've got such a hard on for her, YOU go chat up the blonde." If there's one thing Niall never turns down, it's a challenge. His eyes immediately light up like a kid in a sweet shop. "Don't mind if I do," he retorts, wiggling his eyebrows. Gross. He starts strutting over to the blonde (yes, strutting - I'm so taking the piss out of him later), but then promptly bounds back to me, "Hey, you don't happen to have a condom or two do you?" You've got to be fucking kidding me. "Niall, you're a whore," I laugh, reaching into my back pocket for my wallet. "But here, God knows we don't want any miniature versions of you running around. One Niall is more than enough." This earns me a scowl and a mumbled "fuck you" before he grabs the offered rubber and returns to his mission. Now that that is settled...I turn to the bartender, "Can I have my check please?"

Having called for a cab, I head outside to wait, and finally do what I've been dying to do all evening - reach for my phone that's been burning a hole in my back pocket for hours. I immediately pull up my text conversation with Natalie and stare at the most recent message, from Natalie: I had a really good time! I hope we can do that again xx. Like a complete sap, I obviously noticed the two kisses at the end of her text. Obviously.  And I keep noticing them, since I've looked at her text message no less than 40 times. Fuck. Three hours and 45 minutes later, I still haven't written a response. Nothing that comes to mind seems right, or says what I want to say. "Me too" is trite and overused. I even contemplate going full on cheesy movie reference, with a "laters baby" and then promptly want to punch myself in the face. Fuck. So, I do what I've been doing, shove the phone back in my pocket, with the text unanswered. With almost impeccable timing the cab chooses that moment to arrive. I hop in, give the driver my hotel information, and then lean back with a sigh, staring at the roof of the cab like it holds some type of answer.

The 10 minute drive back to the hotel has given me time to think. Throwing the driver some cash, I head up to my room. Closing the door behind me, I lean heavily against it. I need to call her. It's 11 pm, and she very well may be long since asleep, but I have to try. I grab my phone out of my pocket, mentally steel myself, then pull up her phone number, pressing the "call" button before I can chicken out. It rings a few times before she picks up, and I am about to give up, when I hear the click on the other end. "Harry? Hi! Are you okay?" The reflief I feel at hearing her voice is so intense, it makes me feel light-headed, like I stood up too fast.  I take the briefest of moments to enjoy it. Then, without preamble or even a hello, I say what I've been thinking for hours. I say the words that have been distracting me all evening, "I should've kissed you."