Finer Things // h.s.

OK

"It's better in England." I say as he cracks at the blue ball and gets it down the bottom right hole.

"Agreed." He remarks. I watch as he concentrates on the next ball and I sneak out my phone and take a photo quickly. The ball disappears down the hole and he stands up and nods at me.

"I'm about to kick your ass, Paparazzi." He says slyly and I scoff at him.

"I'm allowed to take photos, am I not?" I say.

We play for a little while longer until the only ball left on the table is the black ball and whoever hits it first claims the game and takes the win.

I lean over the table and concentrate on the ball. I hear footsteps behind me and he comes up behind me and leans down in my ear.

"I like the way you look bent over the table."

I miss the ball entirely.

"Fuck you! You threw me off!"

"Sorry I didn't mean to get- sorry, throw you off."

My mouth goes dry.

I watch as he walks over and chalks up the tip of his pool stick and positions his back to the table and flips the rod behind him and aims for the black ball backwards. I walk in front of his gaze and unbutton the top two buttons on my blouse and move it off my collar bone.

"Hey H?" I ask and he doesn't look up but hums in response. I bend down slowly to the table, stretching my arms out, the blouse falling off my right shoulder showing my bra strap. He looks up at me in his stance.

"No, no way." He says. And with that, the ball fires into the far-left corner and it disappears from our sight and Harry breaks into laughter and does a shimmy dance, biting down on his bottom lip.

"You're kidding me..." I say as I stare at the pool table in awe and pull up my blouse.

"Not kidding, baby." He says with a smirk and I shake my head in disbelief.

"Well, shall we head off? I wanna show you something." He says, placing the stick down and leaning it against the wall underneath a poorly painted replica of Dogs Playing Poker.

"If it's you shirtless-"

"Keep it in your pants, love." He smiles, taking my hand. We head out and walk underneath the orange burning streetlights that ignite our pathway to wherever we're going. Harry and I walk, giggling from the slight intoxication that the alcohol has infused within our bloodstream and I look up to the sky as my hand holds his, our fingers flirting with one another as they intertwine and untangle in their grip but never not touching. I kick my legs out in front of me, my flared jeans flowing in the soft breeze and feel an overpowering sense of perfection within this moment that held us so closely in its warmth. The streets were almost bare aside from the occasional car that drove with its headlights guiding its way.

"Guess what I've got." Harry whispers at me and I look at him in confusion.

"What?" I whisper back and watch as he pulls a silver bottle from his jacket sleeve and he dramatically gasps and I laugh.

"What're we in high school?" I scoff and he raises an eyebrow. I take it from his extended offering. I take a sip of it and wipe away at my lips, stinging with the sour and vile liquid that slowly burns the inside of my throat and I let out a cough. 

"You okay?" Harry asks and I nod, smiling.

"Always." I respond. We walk down the street before Harry pulls my hand and we go down an ally way which makes my liquid courage disappear as the darkness and slight shuffling of garbage bags unsettle me.