grab a snack for this one...
Elaina Basset
It's been a quiet week.
After the bar incident, I didn't really go out and that was my own choice. I ended up staying at the villa and working on Marjorie and Derek's painting.
It's the morning of their ceremony, and I could not be more nervous.
I got the painting done, and I'm super proud of it. I know that they're gonna love it and I'm excited for them to see it...but that's where my enthusiasm ends.
Harry was right about me needing a new dress. None of mine were worthy enough for a ceremony like this. I went out yesterday and bought one, praying it was suitable for tonight.
Last week, when Harry took me back to Zayn's from the bar, I was met with all of the guys being at the villa. Harry told them what happened, and judging by Zayn's face, I could infer that this Jayden guy was bad news to them. I don't know why or how, but he's an enemy of some sort.
It made me nervous because Jayden had picked me out specifically, but the guys just told me that if I mind my business, I'll be okay.
I still haven't spoken to Angela. She's kept her distance like she promised she would. It doesn't make me feel good, believe me. I would much rather be able to spend time with my best friend in Italy instead of blocking her out, but I feel that I don't have a choice.
Today is Friday.
Zayn's going to be working at the bar tonight and he said that the guys will end up tagging along to hang out in the VIP section. I asked Zayn what they do all night, and he basically said that the guys hook up with different girls and drink and chain smoke.
Harry would be missing from these events tonight, because he'll be with me...acting as my date.
I'm dreading it. I'm terrified that he's either going to stir up trouble for me or say something to humiliate me in front of two people I care about.
In my pyjamas, I go downstairs to the kitchen to make some breakfast. If I'm going to be suffering tonight, might as well do it on a full stomach.
Zayn was down here already, cutting up tomatoes that he grew in his garden. He looks over his shoulder at me, then looks back down.
"Morning." he mumbles with his back to me.
I walk to the fridge and open it up. "Morning."
I grab an egg from the carton and then a frying pan from the rack—placing it on the stove and turning up the heat.
It stays silent between Zayn and I, with just the sound of his knife hitting the cutting board with every chop. The tension was thick—like it's been all week.
I hate it.
I know he's done things that I shouldn't be able to look past, and I don't...but he is my best friend. He's shown me nothing but support and respect and kindness. That's why this is all so conflicting.
But, I do know that I'm tired of this weird silence.
"How was your night?" I ask, breaking the quiet.
Zayn, caught off guard, looks over at me standing by the stove.
"Uh—" he clears his throat. "Good, thanks." he nods.
I nod back, cracking the egg onto the pan.
"How was yours?" he asks in return, making my nerves fill with relief for some reason.
"Not bad." I give him a half smile, letting the egg cook beside me.
I watch his side profile as he continues chopping for a moment and then exhales through his nose, stopping and then putting down the knife before turning to face me.
He looks at me sincerely. "So, uh..." he scratches the back of his neck. "How have you been with everything? I mean, are you okay?"
I look down at my feet for a moment before shrugging. "I don't know, I guess I'm just trying to look past it for now."
He nods in understanding, biting his cheek.
"It's just weird, you know?" I go on, "I mean, I thought something was up with Harry and the guys but I would have never expected it from you or Angela."
He keeps his eyes locked on me as he gives me a look of sympathy. "I know. And I'm sorry that things happened the way they did."
I press my lips into a line. "It is what it is. I don't wanna dwell."
Another nod from him.
"So..." he begins to change the subject. "You ready for tonight?"
I glance at him to see his lips tugged into a little smirk, making my eyes playfully roll. "No. Not in the slightest."
Zayn chuckles under his breath. "I'm sure it'll be okay."
I narrow my eyes at him. "It's Harry we're talking about. He's gonna make this night unbearable for me."
I can see it already. I know this night will end badly if he has anything to do with it.
"Don't worry. I'll kill him if he doesn't behave himself." Zayn teases.
I shake my head slightly. "I know you're joking but that was way too soon."
Zayn looks down with a laugh. "Yeah, you're right sorry."
Once my egg is done cooking, I slide it onto a plate and toast a piece of bread. I was ready to take this up to my room and watch some tv before I had to face the music tonight.
All I can do is hope and pray that it all goes smoothly.
Later on, at 5, I stood in my room as I finished getting ready. Zayn had left for the bar already, leaving me alone in the villa until Harry got here.
I stood in front of my mirror in my dress. It was a floor length peach colored dress that had silky material draping down to my feet. It was strapless, but still modest enough
for a ceremony that would be packed with old people.
My hair was down in curls, falling to my shoulders while the upper half was pinned back. I was wearing lipstick, which was something I wasn't used to. It wasn't loud or anything, just a pretty nude color that matched my dress.
Along with this dress, I'm wearing heels. I had no choice or else the length of the dress would have caused me to trip all night. The heels were open toed and silver, nothing fancy.
It's six minutes past 5, which means Harry should be here any second.
It completely slipped my mind to tell him to dress up, and now I'm worried that he'll arrive in skinny jeans and a t shirt like always. If that's the case, he's gonna have to borrow something of Zayn's.
I grab my wrapped up painting and go leave my room, going downstairs and being careful not to fall flat on my face in these heels.
Nearly two minutes later, I hear a loud honk outside the villa, indicating that Harry was here to pick me up.
Here goes nothing...
I sigh through my mouth, collecting myself as I walk down the hall and out the door with my painting and purse.
When I get outside, I'm immediately taken aback by what I saw.
Leaning against the exterior of his car, Harry stood with his arms crossed and the wind blowing gently through his hair. I must have underestimated him, because he was dressed in black dress pants, a white floral button up, paired with a black trench coat.
I was almost speechless for a minute, mesmerized by how...good he looked.
When I shut the front door, his head turns from his view of the hedges and his eyes now fall on me.
His body shifts very slightly, moving his weight from leaning against the car to standing up straight now. His expression doesn't change but I do see his shoulders fall a bit.
He clears his throat. "Ready?"
I just nod.
I get my feet to work again and walk around to the passenger door of his car, stepping inside and then carefully placing the painting in the backseat as he sits in the driver's seat.
He smells of rich cologne. It was pleasant.
As Harry drives, I look down at my thumbs in my lap, twiddling them mindlessly as we sat in silence. Up until this point, I'd only seen glimpses of him throughout the week since the bar thing happened.
I don't know how to communicate with him. We aren't friends, and we hate each other. Now, we're somehow supposed to pretend that we're boyfriend and girlfriend. I don't know how we're gonna pull that off.
I momentarily look up at his side profile as he drives, debating on whether I should try to talk to him or not.
As I look at him, I notice how clear his skin is. It's flawless, not a blemish in sight. He's got perfect diamond shaped pink lips. His eyelashes were long, fluttering as he blinked. His hair was mid-length, longer than most men. It fell behind his neck in thick curls, some strands hanging over his forehead. He resembled a prince.
I wonder how someone who looks so perfect can have such a dark mind.
I look ahead again, leaning against my palm as Harry drives down the highway.
It was a 25 minute drive to the big villa on the beachside that Marjorie and Derek rented out to hold their ceremony. A 25 minute drive of silence between Harry and I.
When we arrived, Harry parked his car further away from any other vehicles. I gave him a weird look, wondering why he was parked so far away.
He just shrugs. "This car is expensive."
I immediately roll my eyes. "Now we just have to walk further. I'm in heels and I'm carrying a painting." I complain.
"How is that my problem?" he remarks as we both step out of the car.
Well, this is going swimmingly so far.
I open the back door on my side to retrieve my painting. "Look, we're supposed to like each other tonight. So let's try not to fight the whole time." I murmur as I pull my body out from the backseat.
Before I knew it, I felt a pair of hands on my hips quickly turn me around so that my back was against the car. With the painting in my hand, I gasp out at the sudden contact, coming face to face with Harry. He looks at me deviously.
"You think I'm gonna ruin your special little night, Picasso?"
I shake my head, glaring into his eyes. "It's not my special night. It's Marjorie and Derek's. And yes, I do think you're going to try to pull something so I'm asking you right now...please don't."
He tilts his head and smirks slightly.
I look down at his hands that were gripping my hips, perfectly nimble ring covered fingers grasping me over my dress. My eyes flick back to his. "What are you doing?"
He gestures his head to the right, making me follow his motion with my eyes.
A little far off to the right of us down the huge driveway, was a couple getting out of their car. They look at us and politely wave, acknowledging that we were guests here as well.
I look back at Harry.
"I'm playing my part." he grins sadistically as his hands remain on my hips in a close hold.
I let out a sigh, knowing he was technically in the right. We have to act close, which means we have to physically be close.
Looking deep into his eyes again, I was determined to make one thing clear.
"Please don't cause trouble tonight." I say with my voice quiet and serious.
His eyes scan my face as he smirks. "And why shouldn't I?" he pushes.
"Because it wouldn't be just me that you're hurting." I state before pushing his hands off of me and turning to walk.
He doesn't reply as I make my way down the driveway with him following close behind.
The ceremony was being held in the backyard which overlooked the beach. We arrived just on time because it seems that everyone else is just getting here now too.
We walk around the outside of the villa, down a clean concrete path that had an arched gate decorated with vines and white flowers. With Harry behind me, we walk into the backyard where guests were chattering and mingling.
I look around at some of the people here, seeing a few couples. One man and woman, maybe in their 40's, were standing close with her back against his chest abd his hands on her shoulders as they spoke with another couple. They look like they're in love—I'm not sure how to replicate that.
Another part of me feels weird that I'm doing this while Isaac is back in Denver. He would flip if he knew I was pretending to be the girlfriend of another guy right now—even if we aren't even touching.
Isaac's always been possessive like that. He loved showing me off when we went out, and I loved being praised. This just feels wrong.
"Elaina!" I suddenly hear my name being called, making my stomach tense up when I turn to my right. I see Marjorie hurrying over to us. She was dressed in a simple white gown with a pretty jewelled headband in her curled grey hair.
I smile at her, ready to show her my painting and completely forgetting about Harry for a second.
"I'm so glad you two made it." she beams at Harry and I.
"Of course." I say politely. "I have your painting right here."
She emits excitement as she takes the painting which was wrapped carefully in bubble wrap to protect it. I hold my folded hands under my chin with slight nervousness as she begins to unwrap it in front of us.
When she gets it fully unwrapped, she holds it down in front of her. I couldn't really read her expression, but her lips had parted and she slightly shook her head.
"Oh, Elaina." she mumbles, "This is perfect."
My nerves fall and my spirits raise as I see her satisfaction. "Really?"
She looks up at me with now glossy eyes and nods. "It's exactly what we wanted. Thank you."
She leans in for a hug, being mindful of the painting. "You're amazing." she praises again and I smile into the embrace.
When she pulls away, she looks at Harry who was standing next to me.
"You've got a very gifted girlfriend, dear." she says. "Keep her around."
I look down, trying to hide my smile at her words regardless over her acknowledgement of Harry. But, all my thoughts come to a halt when I suddenly feel Harry's hand on my lower back.
"Noted." he tells Marjorie, making me look up at his face to see him pulling a smile.
His hand on my back made all my systems freeze, and it was like I forgot how to speak or do anything because the action caught me so off guard.
It was such a gentle touch, which felt weird coming from him.
"Please, grab some drinks and snacks and enjoy yourselves." Marjorie smiles, then looks at me. "Thank you again, Elaina."
I force a smile and nod. "Anytime."
When she walks away, Harry's hand falls from my back. I didn't know what to do next so I just clear my throat and try to change the subject.
"Maybe we should uhm...go find our table." I say.
He smirks at me, sensing my discomfort as he gestures forward. "Lead the way, Picasso."
Trying to suppress the awkward feeling that he didn't seem to reciprocate, I walk forward to the array of round tables draped with white table cloths.
People were sat at their tables drinking champagne and eating food, talking amongst themselves happily while I had to sit with my fake boyfriend who I share a mutual hatred with.
We walk down the rows of tables until I finally see one with my last name on a card. There were four seats at each table, and our table was accompanied by another couple. They were two women who were older than us, both of them making their own conversation.
"Here." I murmur before pulling out one of the chairs to sit down.
The couple looks at us as we sit, smiling in greeting. Harry sits on my right, furthest from the couple. I smile back at them in a friendly manner.
"You two are young." one of the women says with her thick Italian accent. "Definitely the youngest here." she chuckles along with her partner.
I exhale a small laugh under my breath and nod. "Well, I—we couldn't miss Marjorie and Derek's special anniversary. My name is Elaina, this is Harry."
Harry puts on a friendly face and reaches out to shake their hands.
One of the women, the blonde one, speaks. "My name is Lydia." then, she gestures to her partner. "This is Dana."
I decide to make small talk with them to avoid small talk with Harry. "How long have you two been together?"
Lydia looks at Dana, smiling. Dana answers, "Almost twenty years now."
My brows raise. "Really?"
Lydia and Dana nod. "We got married last year and adopted a little girl named Charlotte."
Awe.
I can't help but smile genuinely at their story. They seem so happy together.
"What about you guys?" Dana tilts her head.
I try to hide my panic as I quickly look at Harry. He glances at me with no sense of nervousness in his expression and then at the couple.
"We've been together for a few months." he says, putting his hand around the back of my chair. "Taking it slow." he jokes.
"You aren't from here, you have different accents." Lydia acknowledges.
Harry gives my shoulder a fake-affectionate squeeze. "Yeah. She's from Denver. I'm from Manchester."
Their brows raise. "Oh? Those are pretty far away from each other. How'd you meet?"
My throat runs dry as I glance at Harry for some sort of support again.
That's a thought I never predicted I'd have.
"Mutual friend." he looks at me for a moment. "We're both here for business."
They nod. "Fate's a crazy thing, isn't it?"
I just chuckle under my breath to try and play it off. I seem to be horrible at this fake-couple thing. I can't even utter a full sentence, but Harry can do it easily. My anxiety causes my leg to bounce beneath my dress, my heels digging into the grass with each bounce of my leg.
Suddenly, I feel a leg hook around my bouncing one from under the table. I quickly recognize it as Harry's, his leg now wrapped under mine and his foot between my two ankles now. I furrow my brows subtly and side-eye him, seeing how he was still focused in on the couple's conversation.
My leg had stopped bouncing.
Glancing at him, I hear Lydia and Dana go back to their own individual conversation and Harry looks back at me briefly.
Im not sure what he meant with this gesture of conjoining our legs—whether he was trying to calm my jittering or my movement was annoying him. It was probably the latter, but nonetheless, it still stopped my anxious leg from bouncing.
In front of us, was a bucket of ice and champagne bottles. We had glasses in front of us, fancy and decorated with faint details. Harry grabs one of the champagne bottles, popping it open.
He pours some into his glass, and then into mine.
I watch the golden bubbly drink fizz into my glass. "I don't like champagne." I whisper.
Harry sets the bottle back in the ice after. "No one does. It's just a fancy drink." he murmurs as he grabs his glass and takes a sip.
Hesitantly, I reach for the glass and bring it to my lips for a sip. I'm gonna force myself to enjoy it, because I'm thirsty anyway.
As I sip the drink, I watch as a man in a tuxedo walks up to a mic stand in front of all of the tables. He taps the mic before speaking into it, clearing his throat.
"If I could grab your attention, ladies and gentlemen." he says, every guest turning their focus toward him. "We're here to celebrate my mother and father's 50th anniversary, so please join me in welcoming them up here as they renew their wedding vows."
The guests begin to clap so I join in as Marjorie and Derek both walk up to the front, happily holding hands. I notice Harry, and how he isn't clapping like everyone else—instead he's just observing.
Too cool to clap, Dreamboat?
Marjorie and Derek both hold a microphone in their hands, standing in front of each other with nothing but love in their eyes.
I sip my champagne as they begin to read their vows into their microphones, Derek tearing up as he looks at Marjorie.
They both look at each other as they read their old wedding vows that still held the same amount of meaning as they did fifty years ago. Their love still seems so young and unconditional—nothing has changed for them except for their age.
I'd love to have something like that—growing old with someone I adore.
But I really just don't see that happening for me, for some reason.
I know how much Isaac loves me, and I do see a future with him. Maybe that's just where I'm meant to end up, married to Isaac for the rest of my life. I've made a commitment to him, so therefore I should expect this, right? I should expect to be with him forever, that's how this stuff works.
It's me that's flawed. I don't give enough of myself out of fear, and I feel like Isaac resents me for that.
So why would I want a life where I don't feel confident in my marriage?
Do I even have a choice? Am I too late?
Did I give my life away to someone who I shouldn't have?
I look down at my champagne glass, realizing that I had downed the whole thing without even noticing. I glance at Harry, who was leaning back in his chair as he listened to the vows. His glass was empty as well.
Hesitant at first, I reach for the bottle of champagne. I can sense Harry glancing at me as I pour a generous amount into my glass, filling it again. I don't look at him, expecting him to make some petty comment or something as he would usually do. But, out of my peripheral vision, I see him grab the bottle for himself. He fills his own glass again, not saying a word to me as he picks it up and leans back in his seat again as he takes strong sips.
I was taking big sips as well—neither of us drinking the fancy alcohol in the way you were supposed to. I'd probably be more than tipsy once I finished this glass, but maybe it would make this night and my thoughts occur a little easier.
I'm not one to use alcohol to cope, but I feel like I have an excuse tonight. Besides, I'm not really all that sad...I'm just letting my thoughts get the best of me.
I notice that Harry's leg has moved from where it was tucked around mine, and now his thigh was just inches away from my own as he sat next to me.
I shift around on my chair a bit, accidentally bumping his thigh with my own in the process. Our legs touch and I immediately look at him as he does the same, glancing at me.
"Sorry." I quickly pull my thigh away, crossing my legs.
He doesn't do anything—not even an eye roll. He just looks down before looking back ahead.
"Through all these years, you've been my rock." Marjorie speaks into the mic, looking down at her paper. "You were my shield when facing my darkest fears, and the one thing that I knew I could turn to without judgement or question."
The vows between Marjorie and Derek were heart-wrenchingly beautiful, no matter how much they made me reflect on my own love life. They had an admirable love, and it was nice to sink out of reality to watch it unfold.
As Marjorie speaks, I see Harry throw back the remainder of his champagne in his glass, clenching his teeth as he swallowed it.
Claps and cheers broke out when they kissed, officially renewing their vows.
I look back at my champagne glass, seeing how my second refill was nearly done. Have I been drinking that much? It doesn't feel like I have..
In a spur of the moment decision, I toss whatever's left in the glass down my throat. Harry catches on, looking to the side at me.
"Getting brave with your booze now, I see."
I set down the now empty glass on the table. "I don't even feel anything yet."
"Because you drank it so quickly." he murmurs. "I give you five minutes before it finally sets in."
Oh god.
"Now," the son speaks into the mic, "Please join my mother and father in a couples dance."
Slow, pretty Italian music begins to play in the speakers, Marjorie and Derek coming to the center of the backyard.
Lydia and Dana get up from their seats, and then I notice every other couple doing the same. They all gather in the center and bring their partners close.
My stomach turns, now that Harry and I are the only 'couple' sitting.
I pick at my nail polish, not knowing what to do as the seconds pass by. We're supposed to be acting as boyfriend and girlfriend, but I think the idea of dancing with me repulses him.
I look down at my lap, Harry pouring himself another glass of champagne.
It wasn't until I felt a presence on my left that I looked up again. My eyes met a tall figure that just so happened to be Marjorie's son, looking down at me with a smile.
"Couldn't help but notice a pretty girl like you sitting here alone." he says, "Care to dance with me?"
My mouth falls open as I don't know how to respond. I freeze up a bit, speechless.
"Oh, I—"
"She's with me." Harry suddenly stands up from his seat next to me, putting his glass down hard on the table. The guy looks at Harry, rendered shocked.
"O-oh. That's my bad." he glances at me, pulling an awkward half smile. "I'm sorry."
I shake my head. "That's okay. Don't worry."
He nods and walks off, making me feel bad for the way Harry scared him off.
I turn in my seat and look up at Harry with a glare. He smirks at me as he looks down at my expression.
"Ready to dance, baby." he remarks.
I scoff. "You didn't want to dance with me before. It took a whole other person asking me for you to actually get up."
He looks down at the ground with that same smirk, chuckling under his breath. Then, he looks at me again and extends his hand out with his palm facing up.
"What can I say? I'd look pretty stupid as your supposed boyfriend if I let you dance with someone else, wouldn't I?"
I let out a troubled sigh before grabbing his deviant hand, my palm meeting his before he wraps his fingers around mine. He grins victoriously as he leads me to the center where other couples danced to the slow, rhythmic music.
I stand in front of him, not sure of the next move.
"I'm not a good dancer." I mumble with zero self confidence.
Without saying anything, Harry pulls me in closer by my hand. My chest hits his as I let out a small gasp at the movement. I slowly look up at him as he wraps his other arm around my waist, holding me close.
"Lucky for you, this isn't ballroom dancing. Most people here are just swaying anyway." he says.
I look around at the other couples, seeing most of them hugging while swaying, while others were in Harry and I's position and talking quietly amongst themselves.
This shouldn't be that hard, I'm just trying not to overthink.
Is my palm sweaty? I think it's sweaty. Can he feel it? God, I hope not.
That champagne I pounded back is definitely beginning to take its effect now. I feel warmer than before, and my blood feels a little tingly. I don't feel drop dead drunk, but I definitely am well past sober.
"Do you think everyone's buying it?" I whisper to Harry as we gently dance.
He exhales a cocky chuckle. "We're two attractive people, Picasso. I don't think anyone's questioning it."
My brows raise as I replay what he said.
"Did you just call me attractive?" I laugh under my breath with a tease, knowing sober Elaina would have never pushed that.
He shrugs like it was nothing. "You want me to say you're ugly or what? I'm simply stating a fact, don't let it get to your head."
Thanks?
I think it kills him to not be an asshole all of the time...but I also think that he's a little tipsy right now just like I am, so he's saying things without thinking—like calling me attractive.
I don't know why I did it—but I found myself bringing my heavy feeling head down on Harry's shoulder.
The side of my head rests on his broad shoulder as my eyelids feel a little bit heavy. Alcohol always makes me tired.
Harry didn't say anything when I did it, instead I felt his breathing halt for just a quick second. He clears his throat, still swaying with me. I wasn't thinking straight, so I didn't process that me resting my head on him would probably be something he hated.
"Sorry." I murmur, my head still resting there.
Again, he clears his throat.
"It's fine." he mumbles in reply.
I took in how gentle his hold was. Despite who he was and the things he's done...despite how he's a bad person...his arm around my waist and his hand in mine felt so strangely comforting.
I'm definitely drunk.
Being so close to him, I took in the scent of his cologne. It was like a fresh vanilla scent. I could drown in it, it was so pleasant.
"You smell nice." I whisper with my cheek on his shoulder.
"Yeah?" he murmurs.
I nod. "Mhm."
I take my hand off of his other shoulder and wrap it around his neck to pull him in closer. The toxic substance running through my bloodstream was making me do things I'd never do sober, like have him this close to me where he could easily hurt me in any way he wanted to.
He's someone that I'm afraid of, but right now in this moment, there's no fear.
And I think that fact is something that I should be really afraid of.
When the song comes to a close, I inhale calmly through my nose before pulling my head off of Harry's shoulder. I look up at him and our eyes meet, him looking down at me with blazing green irises.
"You're not too bad of a dance partner." he whispers. Our eyes were locked into each other's.
My lips part as I go to say something, not really sure what, but then I realize that I'm still gripping his hand and the song is over.
Quickly, I rip my hand away and he takes his hand off of my waist, both of us stepping back from each other upon realizing just how close we both were.
I feel my chest get hot as I clear my throat to speak something into the now very awkward atmosphere.
"I think—uhm." I stammer, taking a few steps backward. "I think we were believable enough."
After I speak, I find myself stumbling back into our table, effectively knocking over Harry's glass of champagne. I yelp out in startle as the beverage knocks over and spills onto my dress.
My jaw drops as the cold champagne stains my dress near my right upper thigh, an obvious wet patch now tainting the material.
"Fuck." I mutter, now making a fool of myself in front of Harry.
Dancing with him was a mistake.
I look at him as he just stood in front of me. I felt my face burn up, suddenly super overwhelmed.
I snatch my purse off of the table. "I need to use the washroom." I utter as I hurry away from him, running through the backyard in my heels and into the villa.
I rush upstairs to find a close bathroom, eventually locating one and hurrying inside without even thinking to lock the door.
The bathroom was big, with a huge glass shower and a bathtub. It had a big mirror that took up one wall, and a marble sink counter. There was a closed window with a ledge that extended across its own wall. It was a pretty bathroom but I don't really have the mindset to take it all in right now.
It wasn't the champagne spill that I was freaked out about. It was Harry. It was the fact that I was dancing with him and I didn't mind it.
I shake my head with a huff of grief and grab a piece of toilet paper. I bring it to the wet patch and blot it on the champagne to soak it up a bit.
I don't know how I get myself in these situations.
Maybe I should have just stayed in Denver. Maybe coming across the world to get away from what happened was the biggest mistake I could've made.
As I try to dry up the spill, I'm suddenly interrupted by the sound of the bathroom door opening, immediately sending my heart into my throat.
I look up into the mirror, the door opening to reveal Harry.
Our eyes meet in the mirror, but I quickly look away, back down at my dress as I dab the paper towel over it.
"I'll be out in a minute." I mumble.
"Gotta say, I've never had a woman run away from me." he says as he steps into the bathroom a bit further.
I glance up into the mirror, seeing him stand a few feet behind me. I furrow my brows as I look at him, wondering why he even came up here to see me in the first place.
"Why'd you follow me?" my voice gets quiet.
He looks at me through the mirror, his hands behind his back as his shoulders shrugged.
"Why'd you follow me to the gallery?" he retorts.
I scoff and shake my head, annoyed with him already. He knows why I followed him, he's just trying to push my buttons and he knows exactly how to do that.
Instead of saying anything, I just go back to my dress, trying to pretend he isn't there and hoping he'll fuck off and leave.
"...I wanted to make sure you weren't up here...crying or whatever." he speaks again after I go silent.
I look up and turn around so my body was facing him now and I wasn't looking at his reflection. I lean against the marble counter.
"Why would I be crying?"
"You spilled champagne on your dress." he states the obvious.
I shake my head slightly. "I don't care about the dress."
He keeps his facial expression stone cold. "Then what is it?"
I sigh and look down at my hands, still feeling the effects of the alcohol as my head was slightly spinning.
"I just...got carried away when we were dancing by putting my head on your shoulder. I shouldn't have."
He gives me a confused look, with his brows creased together. "That's what you're upset about? That was nothing—"
"Tonight was a mistake." I cut him off, watching as he goes silent. "We hate each other, so I don't know how this was supposed to work out tonight."
He cocks his head. "You think hatred overrides physical attraction?"
I shake my head. "Stop."
"You putting your head on my shoulder and telling me I smell good doesn't scream 'hatred' to me, Picasso."
"I'm drunk—"
"So am I."
"So that settles it, we didn't know what we were saying down there." I murmur as I go to walk past him.
"You run from your feelings." he states as he steps in front of me, immediately making my brows furrow in offense.
"Trust me, I don't feel anything towards you." I say, looking him right in the eye now.
"And I don't feel anything for you either." he says, looking back into my eyes. "Not emotionally anyway...but physically is a different story, isn't it."
My lips part as I stare up at him, and his own lips just pull into a smirk—which immediately just makes me more angry.
"I hate you." I tell him forwardly, my eyes burning up into his.
He looks down at me, still smirking as he shakes his head. "No you don't."
"Yes I do. I promise, I do." I repeat sternly.
But then, he just tilts his head as he arches his brow. "Then why are you standing so close to me?"
His words made me realize that we were barely an inch away from one another. I had ended up right in front of him, nearly chest to chest in a spurt of frustration.
I didn't know what to say, standing there speechless which caused him to grow satisfied.
Then, my heart stops as he lowers his head and brings his sinful mouth to my ear while my breathing grows heavy.
"Hating you won't stop me from fucking you on that marble counter, Elaina."
My breath hitches as he whispers the devilish words in my ear, words of temptation as if I was Eve and he was the snake.
Everything I knew was telling me to push him away, knowing the person that he is—a person that I hate.
But it's that temptation hanging in front of my face and the alcohol running through my blood that wasn't pushing him away.
His lips ever so gently brush my ear lobe and I feel my mind doing flips inside my skull. His cologne invaded my nose because of his proximity. It would be bliss if it weren't him.
I need to walk away before I regret something—but I can't seem to get myself to that point.
"It's up to you, Elaina." he whispers, "You wanna show me how much you hate me?"
My stomach whirls as I knew the alcohol was going to make me go against my better judgement. I wanted to indulge in what I hated—I had no idea why.
He was just...so tempting.
I suddenly found myself wrapping my arms around the back of his neck, pushing this into gear while still debating in my head whether I should go through with this or not.
Harry places his hands under my ass to pick me up, my legs wrapping around him. He shuts the bathroom door closed with his back, then takes one hand to lock it before bringing us both over to the counter.
He sets me down on the marble, stepping back for a moment to look at me. He glances at me with the slightest smirk while I anticipated what he'd do next.
Is he into kissing? He doesn't seem like that type. Maybe he wants me to do something? Should I just go for it—
My thoughts are interrupted when he snaps his hand around my jaw, looking at me with his eyes flicking between mine.
It was like he wasn't sure what to do either. Maybe he's having second thoughts.
Holding my jaw, he swallows as he looks around my face with his features tensed.
The air between us was thick. I had no idea what was going to come next.
Every dark thought I had came to a screeching stop when my phone began to buzz in my purse on the counter next to me. Harry and I both snap our attention to it.
He slowly loosens his grip on my jaw, looking at me.
I nervously look at him before digging into my purse and pulling out my phone.
A text from Isaac.
My heart sinks as I read the text that simply read 'miss you.'.
Realization set in that I had someone I was committed to, and here I was, in a bathroom about to throw that all away with a man I barely knew anything about.
"What is it?" Harry murmurs, making me sigh and tuck my phone away. I look at him, seeing his expression.
I didn't have to say anything for him to let out a short exhale like he already knew.
"It's your boyfriend, isn't it?" he tilts his head, looking for my confirmation.
I don't say anything, looking down at my lap as I sit on the marble counter.
"I don't get it. You told me you didn't have a boyfriend and then when I caught you in a lie at the airport, you wouldn't say a word about him." He murmurs. He didn't sound like he cared, but he just wanted an explanation out of me.
I shake my head slightly. "Because... I don't have a boyfriend." I mumble, causing him to furrow his brows.
"Then what—"
"I have a fiancé."
I watch as his brows raise when I say it. He doesn't show much emotion, but that little display of shock was enough to tell me that he didn't see that coming. How could he? I'm 20 and engaged...no one expects that.
"Shit." he murmurs with his eyes slightly wide.
I nod. "Yeah."
He looks down at the floor, processing what I said before just shaking his head with a chuckle. "Well, Picasso. You keep surprising me."
I just shrug, not knowing what to say.
He takes a second, looking at me, before he digs into the pocket of his coat and pulls out a rectangular box and a lighter. I watch him as he walks over to the window, then turns his head to look at me.
"You smoke weed?"
I don't smoke weed. Well, not often. I've done it a few times with Isaac. So, if you were to ask me why I'm sitting on a window ledge in this bathroom sharing a joint with Harry, I wouldn't be able to give you a valid answer.
It's been seven minutes since he asked if I smoke, and then when he offered to share his joint with me, I said yes.
I feel like I needed it—just as a little escape.
For all I know, this could be laced with something stronger, but God knows that it won't be the worst decision I've made tonight.
We mostly sat in silence, passing the drug back and forth and gazing out the window.
I take a puff, getting more used to the smoke with every inhale, then I hold out my hand for him to grab it. I lean against the wall as I sit on the ledge, my dress stained with champagne and my conscious stained with guilt.
"Is marijuana supposed to make you feel so tired?"
He hums as he takes an inhale from the joint now between his lips. "It has that effect on some people, yes."
I gently shut my eyes and nod slowly. My high made me feel really heavy, but in a relaxing way.
"So," he says, blowing smoke from his mouth. "you're engaged."
I open my eyes, seeing him look out the window.
"I am." I respond.
He glances at me, a strand of his curly hair hanging in front of his face as he takes the joint from his mouth and passes it to me.
I accept it, taking it between my fingers and bringing it to my lips with my head resting against the wall. Harry looks at my fingers, then to my eyes.
"You don't have a ring."
"I don't wanna lose it—"
"Lie."
I glare at him as I blow out smoke. "It's not your business anyways." I murmur, making him laugh pensively under his breath.
"How long?" he asks in regard to my engagement.
I pass the joint to him. He accepts.
"He proposed before I moved here."
I remember it very vividly. I told Isaac that I had to get out of Denver and the next day, he proposed to me. He wanted me to stay, but I couldn't.
"Jesus." Harry murmurs under his breath. "Poor guy."
I look out the window as Harry smokes, just reflecting on that moment in my life.
"Why'd you say yes if you knew you were leaving?" he questions.
Still looking out the window, I bite the inside of my cheek before I answer. "Because I love him."
Harry hums again, taking another hit.
"You love him." he repeats my words, handing me the last of the joint that was just about finished. "If you love him so much, why are you here? And why is he there?"
I take the remainder of the joint between my thumb and forefinger, bringing it to my lips to finish it off.
"I wanted to pursue my art career." I answer passively. "He's attending university in Denver, so it was better if he stayed."
Harry watches me as I kill off the joint, smoking the last bit of drug left before tossing the remainder out the window.
"And let's say you make something of yourself here, and he does the same but in America...what then?" he questions.
I look out the window, staying quiet as I didn't really know what to say. I haven't thought that far ahead—and when I do think of it, I just push the thoughts away.
There's a few moments of quiet between Harry and I before he speaks.
"There's something in Denver that you're running from."
My brows crease together as I turn my head to him, my lips parting.
"What?"
I heard him loud and clear, but what caught me off guard is that he was right.
Making eye contact, he speaks again. "There are art programs in Denver. You could have stayed, but no...you ran across the world so you could avoid something back there." he says. "You're made of glass, Elaina. You aren't a good liar. Something happened in Denver."
I shake my head, feeling my chest burn. "You know nothing."
He leans forward a bit and I feel myself getting more and more overwhelmed. "What was it, huh? Did something happen to you? Or did you do something?"
My mouth drops in anger over him pushing me like this. The feelings that came with Denver suddenly flood my mind. He brought these feelings back with this conversation. He has no idea what he's talking about...he doesn't know—and he will never know—what happened.
I scoff and shake my head, standing up from the ledge. "Fuck you." I mutter. "Getting me high so you can try to squeeze information about my past out of me. You're disgusting. I should've...fuck, I should've known better."
I should've known that Harry would never try to make casual conversation with me if he didn't benefit from it.
I grab my purse from the counter and head towards the door. Harry doesn't stop me.
I felt my eyes burn with tears that I wanted so desperately to avoid. With weed and champagne running through my body, I felt panic. It was panic that I knew I couldn't show—not in this public place. I had to suppress it.
I get to the staircase and take a moment to focus on my breathing. My chest felt like a million pounds, as if my heart and lungs were being crushed. I wanted to leave before it got uncontrollable.
As I stand on top of the staircase, I hear steps coming from the bathroom. I didn't have to turn to know that Harry was making his way toward me.
I suck in a sharp inhale.
"Call a cab, please. I wanna leave." I mumble to the best of my ability.
Harry stays quiet for a few moments. I don't look behind me, but I assume he's pulling out his phone to get us a cab.
After a few moments, he speaks.
"I knew you were gonna follow me to the gallery, you know."
I freeze, my mind switching from panic mode to a confused state as I whip around to look at him.
He looks up from his phone, making eye contact with me.
"W-what?" I shake my head.
"You think I'm dumb enough to leave you alone at my house and then leave my car keys in plain sight?" he mutters. "I knew from the moment you told me to call off the men that you were gonna try something. I was testing you, and you did exactly what I thought you would."
I look at him, dumbfounded for a few moments as I didn't know how to react or what to even think of this.
He was testing me? For what reason?
And I was dumb enough to fall into his trap.
"I-if you knew what I was gonna do, then why did you take me back to your villa and cuff me to a chair?"
He shrugs passively. "Actions have consequences, Picasso. You still decided to follow me to get answers, and you had to be put in your place."
I cross my arms. "And what is my 'place' exactly?"
"No where." he mutters. "In the dark. Unknowing. Clueless."
I shake my head slightly, in disbelief over how much of an asshole this guy really is.
He takes a step toward me, phone in his hand.
"That's what I mean when I said you were made of glass, Picasso." he looks me up and down. "I see right through whatever you're trying to hide."
With that, he brings the phone to his ear and walks down the stairs as he speaks to someone on the other end of the phone call. I stand there for a minute, my stomach in knots. I felt sick, and I wanted nothing more than to be at home.
But I don't know where home is anymore.
//
THE NIGHT CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 20!! ILL HAVE IT DONE ASAP I PROMISE <3