It's somewhere around 10pm that I finally get home. I could've left the pub earlier but I needed to sober myself up first before I got into my car. Zayn did offer me a ride but I politely declined, to which he accepted without asking any question. He left immediately after he received a call from his fiancée and I took it that she's forgiven him and wants him to come home.
Zayn and I hardly said a word after he told me what happened between Chloe and him, and after he admitted something that I wished he didn't. Tension thickened by each passing second until eventually Zayn told me that I should forget what he just said – probably because he got embarrassed as I didn't say anything else after that or probably because he didn't mean it in the first place. Which one is it, it doesn't matter.
The moment I've unlocked the front door and step inside, I can hear footsteps moving my way and when I look up, I see Harry standing in front of me, eyes heavy and hair dishevelled. He must have just woken up from his nap. Wearing a pair of grey joggers with a white t-shirt that is slightly see through, he makes it difficult for me to look away. Especially when I can see his tattoos.
I suppose that explains why I almost choke on my words. "Hi," I say finally, cheeks heating up. I hope to God he doesn't notice me staring for a few seconds just now, but if he does, I'm glad he doesn't say anything about it.
"Hi," he replies. He's got a small smile on his face so I take it that he's not angry with me for cancelling our dinner plan. Or maybe he is, but he doesn't want to show it. He continues to watch me as I take off my coat and hang it on the coat stand. Once I've done so, he asks, "Have you had dinner?"
"No," I shake my head, sinking my teeth into my lower lip. I didn't realise how hungry I am until Harry mentions the word 'dinner' and until my stomach starts growling.
"C'mon," he chuckles when he hears the sound. My cheeks heat up in embarrassment. "I made some food," he mentions before he turns around and makes his way to the kitchen, to which I follow him and take a seat on one of the stools.
"Is there anything I can do to help?" I ask.
He glances through his shoulder. "No, s'fine," he answers with a small smile on his lips. "Everything's cooked, I just have to heat it up."
I watch as he takes out two plates from the cabinet and fills them with fettuccine alfredo. I fiddle with my fingers as the silence is beginning to make me feel uncomfortable. I open my mouth to say something, only to close it a second later. I know that I should apologise for what I did earlier – for cancelling in the last minute – but I can't seem to find the courage to do so. I don't want to make things even more awkward between us.
So, I continue to watch his back until he turns around, his hands out at his sides as he takes a few steps towards me and sets the plates in front of me. It smells like absolute heaven. "Thank you," I tell him.
He simply smiles as he moves to take a seat next to me and brings the plate closer to him. We hardly say a word to each other as we eat and though it might just be my imagination, I can feel the tension thickening between us. The longer we ignore the elephant in the room, the more I feel guilty. I need to say something, but I can't.
Eventually, though, the both of us finish eating and Harry tells me that he's going to do the dishes. "I can do it," I tell him, but he ignores me and insists on doing it.
So whilst he washes our plates, I lean against the counter and watch him. It's all I can do seeing that each time I open my mouth to speak, no words come out. I've become a coward and I hate myself for that. If the old me was to see me biting my tongue every five seconds, she'd be kicking my arse. In fact, I won't be the only one who'd kick my arse; Freya would do too.
