Eventually

Chapter 4

“Dan, be quite!”

I heard the whispering outside. I closed my book and got up from the couch. I peeked through the window and saw Harry with his arms around Dan, trying to keep him straight. My brother’s eyes were bloodshot; I noticed from a distance only. I sighed and opened the front door, shivering from the cold.

“Had too much?” I asked Harry, who seemed to be surprisingly sober.

“Yeah,” he said stepping on the porch as I helped him carry Dan to the couch. “He broke a fish bowl or something.”

Dan immediately slumped back on the couch and pulled his knees to his chest. “We need to carry him upstairs.”

“I know,” Harry said, sitting on the arm. “Just let me catch my breath.”

“Where did you guys go anyway?” I was just curious whose fish bowl my brother broke.

“It was a party at Cathy’s…”

“The busty blonde on the swim team?” I raised my eyebrows.

“Yeah,” Harry laughed. “That one.”

I crossed my arms and stood there, watching my brother hum. Why was he humming?

“So, your parents are asleep?”

I looked up to see Harry’s green eyes on mine. His cheeks were flushed from the cold and his curls were disheveled - like he had just made out with someone, which I’m pretty sure he did.

Or had sex.

“Yeah, it’s past midnight.”

“Past midnight?” Harry almost yelled, he frantically looked at his watch.

“Yes, are you drunk too?” I rolled my eyes. “Who has a party on Tuesday anyways?”

“It wasn’t for snooty people like you.” He snapped at me, smirking. “Why are you still awake though?” He asked, changing the subject.

I rolled my eyes. “If you’re done catching your breath, let’s take him upstairs.” I said pointing towards Dan, who was snoring silently.

*

“Thanks for bringing him home,” I muttered to Harry as we came down the stairs. “I guess.”

“I’m sorry?” Harry said sarcastically. “Are you trying to be polite?”

“I am usually polite to people who actually like me.”

Harry laughed at my comeback. “And who likes you?”

Ouch. It was the way he said it; like no one would like me, or would like me at all. I tried to think of something, but I was at a loss of words.

“Zayn likes me.”

Harry’s smug smile changed into something else. He knew it was true and he looked almost… jealous?

“Whatever,” he muttered. “Maybe he’s partially blind or something.”

I ignored his comment and sat back down on the couch and opened my book, waiting for Harry to leave.

“Speaking of Zayn,”

“Yeah?” I looked up from my book; Harry had his hands in his pockets, his white tee underneath his blazer giving me a peek of the black ink decorating his skin.

“He…” he spoke, not sure whether to continue. “He asked for your number.”

I felt blood rush to my cheeks; I knew Zayn might like me, but I didn’t know he liked me enough to ask Harry for my number. I looked down at my feet.

“So did you give it to him?”

“No,”

My head snapped up, “Why?” I almost screamed. Then I noticed his smug expression and I swear I wanted to break his neck.

“Just wanted to see your reaction.” He laughed.

I ignored him and went continued reading. “So, you really like him?”

“Don’t you have to go home?” I asked, irritated.

“I was wondering,” Harry looked down and shuffled his feet as he stood beside the couch. “could I hang out a few minutes? I don’t actually want to go home.”

“Yeah, okay,” I sighed and went back to my book.

“Do you have anything to eat? I’m hungry.” Why is he irritating me?

“Check the fridge, there might be something.”

Harry walked into the kitchen and I heard him shuffle through the racks. After a moment, he came back with an ice-cream tub and crashed down beside me on the couch.

“What are you reading?”

I ignored his question as he took a spoonful of the ice-cream in his mouth and gulped. When I did not answer him, he knocked my book away.

“Hey!”

“I’m bored!” He whined like a child. “Talk to me!” he burst into hysterics.

I sighed and picked up my book from the ground. After a few moments of silently gulping his food, he started again, “Lalalala…”

I have to admit, he looked so cute like this – singing like a little kid and chocolate ice-cream dripping down his chin. He’s actually cute, I thought.

What? I dismissed the thought from my head as soon as it came. I closed my book and turned to face Harry. He wins, I will talk to him.

“What do you want to talk about?”

He smiled like an idiot and said, “Let’s talk about how amazing you look with your hair like this!” he teased, laughing. He's so annoying, I thought. Why is acting like he's drunk? He poked my cheek and laughed again.

I rolled my eyes and tied my hair into a messy bun, a few strands falling over my face. I pushed them back. I noticed Harry staring at me, a small smile playing on his lips.

“So…” I started to ease the awkward tension. “Why don’t you want to go home?”

He stopped smiling and his eyes went cold. “I don’t want to talk about that,” he simply stated.

“Why?”

“Don’t push it, Amanda!” he screamed. I figured my mum would’ve heard that.

“Sorry,” I muttered. “I was just trying to understand.”

“I don’t want you to understand me!” he was on his feet now. “I don’t want you to pity me! I don’t want you, Amanda!”

I just looked down at my fidgeting fingernails as I heard Harry stomp out and slam the door behind him.