Awkward (Narry)

v.

"Well, all right then. Girls snuck over a few minutes ago; I'm gonna go find me one." Calum points over his shoulder, and I hear Louis scoff.

"Slut."

"Those leggings look a little see through, Louis. Might want to check yourself before you call someone else a slut." Calum turns to leave, and I bite my tongue on a laugh as I watch Louis make faces at the guy's back.

"You look fine, Lou." Nick immediately comforts his boy toy, and Louis eats it up.

"I'm not a slut. He's the fucking slut."

"I know, Lou. I know."

"Well," I cut into their coddling with a snap of my fingers. "I'm going to leave, before you two officially third wheel me."

"Stay away from Calum, Niall. He's bad news." Louis warns me, and I salute him before turning around. Sometimes Louis' bitterness for Calum Hood makes me cry with laughter. The petty hatred reminds me of Jax in Lipstick Bo-

Fuck. I've got to shake that. I can't read that story! Harry writes it for crying out loud. It's bad enough that I talk to him on Writerscape, but to read his work? Without his permission? It's offensive is what it is.

Walking through the small pods of laughing guys, I find my way to the drink table student council set up. Water, lemonade, and Gatorade line the long table, and familiar faces pass out each to the students who walk by. I take one from Luke, who smiles widely at me.

"Hey, Horan! Looked good on the field today. If defense keeps it up, we could win the championship again."

"Shut up." I take a drink of my lemonade. "You're just fishing for compliments on your game."

Like smirks and shrugs. "Doesn't make it any less true."

"Save your flattery for the girls. Calum said they've just snuck over. I'm not sure who exactly is here, though."

Luke perks up at the thought was long legs and breasts, and I take it as my cue to leave before his testosterone takes over completely, and he starts flexing on the drink table or something.

Heading back over to the bonfire itself, I notice that it's gotten dark enough that I have to squint to see more than seven feet. I almost ram into that one saxophone player who the lacrosse team stole the clothes of last year, but save myself just in time. The fire is hot enough that it's making my face flush as I watch it rise higher and higher. A small, twisted part of me (that I blame on the more disturbing fanfics I've read) imagines what would happen if the quad caught on fire and burnt everyone alive. Not me of course, or any of my friends, as that would be disappointing, but you know... Everyone else.

I feel the heat of the fire drying out my lips, and I pull out my Chapstick to fix it.

"What are you doing?" A deep voice comes from behind me, and my eyes widen in panic.

Turning around, I face Harry, hoping that he can't see my bright red face in the darkness. "What?"

"What are you doing?"

"Putting on Chapstick." I state, confused my the question. Harry just nods, stuffs his hands in his pockets and takes a step until he's standing directly beside me. "Why?"

"I just saw you putting on, uh...you just looked bored." He shrugs, and it clicks. Remembering something that styleofwonder, or Harry, told me long ago, I realize that he thought I was putting on lipstick. Dear God, Harry's got the exact kink he's writing about. That means that maybe he doesn't like Louis; maybe he simply likes Louis' makeup. That could be a thing.

"Louis and Nick abandoned me, so yeah."

"Sounds fun."

"It wasn't."

"That was sarcasm."

"It sucked."

Harry looks at me. "You're very mean tonight."

"How so?" I ask, daring to apply some more Chapstick, so as to gauge Harry's reaction. I'm not fucked up. This is an experiment. This is for science.

As expected, Harry seems to watch me intently, and I feel a fire, minuscule in comparison to the bonfire in front of us, light in my stomach. Oh, wow. This is one of those things that I will put under the label, 'Do NOT Tell Louis.'

"Louis said you smack him in his junk. That's not very nice." He points out, and the small fire dies a little at the mention of Louis' name.

"He whacked me with a pillow. Multiple times." Why do I feel like this conversation would be more suited to a version of me who smoked and appeared above it all? I'm definitely feeling like I should be smoking right now.

"Still."

"You always side with Louis, don't you?" I ask, bravely.

"I like Louis."

"Aw," I fake pout, turning my head to look at my friend. "You have a crush."

Damn, I'm bold tonight. It must be the darkness. Otherwise, I would never be saying any of this to Harry. Harry gives me an odd look before replying. "What? No. I don't like Louis. What?"

"It's a figure of speech."

"Right..."

"Yeah."

"So."

"Bonfire."

"Bonfire." Harry gestures to the flames before us. "It's cool."

"It's nice."

"Yeah, nice."

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

I shove my hands in my pockets. "This is awkward."

"Just a bit." Harry laughs lightly.

"I finally understand why we don't talk without other people present." Or without being anonymous online. I KNOW YOUR SECRETS HARRY STYLES. I KNOW THEM.

"We definitely should work on our conversation."

"We? What are you talking about? My conversation is superb. Yours is the lacking one." I take a drink of my Gatorade.

"My conversation does suck, you're right." Harry agrees, and I roll my eyes. Typical. I bet he wasn't even paying attention. I bet he's thinking of what's going to happen next in Lipstick Boy. Oh, my God. I know the author of Lipstick Boy. I have the mother of all hookups. I could get all the s-

Wait, shit. He doesn't know I know. Fuck, this is the awkwardest thing I've ever done.

"So..." Harry starts again.

"I'm gonna head in, actually." I cut him off before he or I can make it any worse.

"That's probably best, yeah."

"Yeah."

"Bye." He waves slightly.

I nod, "Night."

"Sleep tight." He calls after me as I'm walking away. I don't turn around or reply. Why would I? Who the fuck says 'Sleep tight'?