I felt like it was quickly becoming a deliberate habit of his; for him, to enter last. We'd all be waiting, together, and it was only then that he'd walk in. I wasn't sure if he just had that about him - the rockstar aura that surrounded his every move - I supposed it just made sense that he'd be the one to always make an entrance. But, waiting for him now, I bit nervously on my nails. Why had I invited him?
The answer was rather simple, actually. It was largely out of selfishness; I wanted Harry to be there, tonight. And I shouldn't have. Everything I'd spent the past day mulling over; my relentless consideration of everything that had gone down between Harry and I, alongside the unexplained cold shoulder I'd received from him - everything pointed to the fact that I should've taken full advantage of his planned absence this evening; this was some ideal space and separation from somebody who had been clear in wanting to avoid me. But he'd talked to me, in the end; he hadn't actually stayed away. I couldn't stand silence from him - it didn't seem like it came particularly easy to him, either. I thought back to when he'd told me he couldn't stay away from me, and couldn't help but wonder if that was still the case, though I knew it most likely wasn't.
I felt overwhelmingly nervous, now; I was nervous to see him again. Part of me was worried that whatever had been bothering him earlier may have returned to cloud his mood again - but the larger part of me didn't care. Even if something was bothering him, I'd rather he was around, still, even then. I felt this strange urge to try and fix it for him; to try and alleviate some of the weight from his shoulders, or provide some kind of distraction or temporary relief of some kind. That was why I'd felt such an odd satisfaction when he'd agreed to come out with us. To think I'd been able to alter, or better his mood, even a little bit, filled me with a funny sense of joy that I wasn't quite sure I'd felt before.
The ding of the elevator signalled that he was finally here, and I subconsciously braced myself to see him. He was looking down at his phone as the doors drew open to reveal him, before he tucked it into his jacket pocket. He was wearing a loose, button-down shirt - mostly unbuttoned, of course - white in colour, with thin stripes upon the fabric. He wore some suit trousers, in a checkered pattern, that he'd somehow managed to pull together with a blazer that undoubtedly stood out the most - tailored to him as if it had been crafted and sewn solely to be worn by his body; a rich, tiffany blue in colour, it only emphasised the deep, glowing tan of his skin.
I wondered how he put his outfits together. I felt a strange flutter of warmth in my stomach at the idea of him holding different items to his body in the mirror, debating which patterns to mix with one another. I imagined him grabbing the blazer and holding it up to the other patterns with a grin on his lips.
His eyes landed on mine first, that unidentified look on his face yet again, before he turned to the rest of the group with a smile. I wondered if he was really feeling much better than he was earlier. Though he appeared to be much more himself, I still sensed some hesitation; I wasn't sure how, or why, but I felt like it was there.
"Finally," Pauli broke the silence, "let's go!"
Harry stood back, letting everybody else go first, as we piled our way out of the hotel. I glanced back at him as he started to move behind me, trying to ignore the way my skin was heating at his presence.
"I thought you might have changed your mind," I said, sending him a small glance. He turned to look at me as we walked, as if broken from being deep in thought. It was like at any moment of silence, he spiralled into deep contemplation. We had that in common, I supposed.
He stared at me, his lips twitching a little, and I watched carefully, desperate to see him flash my favourite smile of his. He looked down at the floor, perhaps in more hesitation, before looking back to me. "Maybe if you hadn't asked so nicely." I felt a pang of relief at the teasing nature of his tone, as well as a definitive flush of my cheeks. I'd convinced him; I'd persuaded him to come out. He was here because of me.
No. Definitely not. He was here because it was his friend's birthday; he would've come, no matter what I said. He was just a little tired, and so, had second thoughts about coming out. He would've changed his mind eventually, no matter what I said, or did.
I caught up with the others, opting to walk beside Pauli, rather than Harry. We made our way into the taxi - I wasn't sure who had chosen tonight's location, but I figured it wasn't important. Everybody was practically buzzing, somehow seeming even more excited than they had done on our first night out, back in Vegas.
The paparazzi were well aware of Harry's presence in Dallas, this time, and I noticed the flash of cameras before I'd even settled in the cab; taking photos from the pavements surrounding the car. Nobody seemed to even bat an eyelid, especially Harry, who casually pulled his phone from his pocket. It never failed to shock me how he was practically immune to all of this, at this point - I knew he'd been in the spotlight for many years, now, but the flashing of a dozen cameras and the loud screams of his name, hands clawing at him as he passed through crowded streets seemed like something that could never be normalised. But he didn't seem bothered at all; he was almost apathetic to it all.
I saw him typing, rather incessantly. Through the corner of my eye, I caught that he was typing on a document - not even a text, or a message to somebody. He was typing something in his notes, and I noticed how his lips gently twitched to half-form some of the words as he wrote them. He looked up, catching my eye. I raised an eyebrow, but he only bit his lip back into his mouth, slipping his phone back into the pocket of his suit jacket.
There was a similar scene when we arrived at the club as there had been to when we'd left the hotel, and Harry's security, who had trailed us in another car, quickly swarmed him in order to push through the crowd that had formed. I tried to mimic the actions of the others, who simply acted as if the cameras weren't there. When Grace and I were younger, Grace used to pretend to be a celebrity in her bedroom, and she'd let me borrow her family's camera and we'd mess around, snapping photos as if we were in the midst of a paparazzi chase. I always took the photos; I never wanted to reverse the roles, and be in front of the camera - but now I found myself here, accompanying somebody who was always in that very position.
The club almost felt quiet in comparison to the screeches from outside, but I was undoubtedly relieved to be out of the relentless grasps of the paparazzi, even though they most definitely didn't know who I was. In a matter of moments, we'd been escorted through the club, and had made use of the bar.
Before I even had a second to find my bearings on the dance floor, Pauli grabbed one of my hands and playfully twirled me around, missing just about every beat of the song blasting from the speakers, causing me to laugh as I bumped into Elin. The three of us spun around in laughter, before the others then interjected. Elin said something to Harry that I couldn't quite make out, causing him to laugh, himself, before he jokingly messed up her hair. I was glad he'd chosen to come with us, tonight - I knew they were good friends, and it wouldn't have been the same if he'd chosen to miss her birthday celebration.
After Pauli had spun me around to the point I felt slightly dizzy, and I'd made it on to my second drink of the evening, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I wandered over to the seating area that was sectioned off for us, taking a seat in a booth, there.
Grace had texted me - it was the middle of the night there, and she, too, had been out drinking - her text was only a trivial update, but I still enjoyed receiving it. I typed a quick reply to her, updating her on my own whereabouts, and the uncomfortable run-in with the paparazzi. I knew she'd find humour in the fact I'd even experienced anything to do with paparazzi, just as I did.
I put my phone away, taking a sip of my drink. I watched as Elin, definitely becoming much drunker than I was, shouted something at Mitch, almost prompting a laugh from him - almost. I noticed the absence of a certain blue blazer, there, realising Harry had slipped away, as well.
I chewed on my lip, my glass shifting between my fingers. It was like I had so many questions for Harry, but given the opportunity to ask them, I wouldn't even know where to start. There felt like there was so much unanswered; yet, it felt like I didn't know what I wanted to say to him, or what I even wanted from him. This was a headache.
"Do you want another drink?"
I turned in my chair to follow the sound of the voice, beside me. I lifted my glass in my hand, still half-full.
"I'm good. Thank you," I brought my knees up in my chair, shifting to get a little more comfortable. The sofa dipped beside me, as Harry took his own seat. His shirt had shifted open a little more throughout the progression of the evening, and I tried to keep my eyes from falling to the skin, there.
"What are you thinking about?" he asked. You. I peered over at the rest of the group, dancing about through fits of laughter. Harry was looking at me, though, I could feel it. I could feel his eyes on the side of my face as I looked forward. I ran a hand over my own arm, feeling the goosebumps beginning to arise there.
"Nothing important," I lied, keeping my gaze fixed in front of me. I couldn't exactly tell Harry that I was unable to think of much else, other than him. I pursed my lips, before bringing my glass to my mouth, to take a sip of my drink. I already knew he wouldn't be convinced, but I wasn't sure it mattered.
We stayed like that for a moment; his eyes on me, mine on the group. I wondered if he had anything else to say, or if he was content like that. I watched as Mitch wound his arms around Sarah's waist, leaning in to mumble something in her ear, causing her to shriek with laughter. Her hands rose to his face, and he leant down to kiss her. The pair seemed so deeply enamoured with one another; I wondered what that was like - to be hopelessly, and openly, in love. I'd never been in love with anybody. I'd never had anybody be in love with me. But, I couldn't help but wonder what it felt like to have somebody adore every part of you, just as you adored every part of them - I was sure that sort of thing didn't really exist; it was a mere marketing ploy, or something they made up in films, or books. I wasn't quite sure I was capable of feeling that sort of thing for somebody, or worthy of having somebody feel that sort of thing about me.
"How long have they been together?" I asked Harry, curiously. I turned to face him after he stayed silent for a few seconds, only to find his eyes on me, still. They looked so soft in this lighting, the green practically radiating warmth.
"Maybe a couple of years, now," he said to me, turning to glance at them, too. A gentle smile pulled on his lips. "They met through the band, so I'll take credit. I think that gives me the prerogative to officiate their wedding."
I bit back the smile threatening to form on my lips. "I think you need a license for that."
"You underestimate me, Isabella," he returned, his tone laced with wit as he brought his own glass to his lips. I watched the flex of his throat as he swallowed back his whiskey.
We sat in silence for another moment. I sort of liked how Harry often knew what to say, even when I didn't - but he seemed to have the same uncertainty that I did, now. I'd thought that having established a clear boundary with Harry in the week previous, and having spent multiple days behaving in a friendly way, would've made things far easier - but with each second I spent in his presence, everything felt a thousand times more complicated. I eyed him carefully.
"What happened today?" I asked, tentatively. I watched as Harry bit on his lip for a second, his eyes now fixed where mine had been, on the group, in front of us. He brought his glass to his lips once more, downing the remainder of his drink. I knew I shouldn't have asked, but I wanted to know. I found myself desperately wanting to know what had driven him away from me, even though I'd ought to be thanking him for it.
He pursed his lips for a second, before he set his empty glass down on the table. "Y'know, I don't know much about you." I frowned, surprised not only by his statement, but by his blatant avoidance of my question. He continued, "Just that you're a lawyer, who doesn't like law."
"I never told you that I didn't like law," I said, raising an eyebrow. His lips twitched, mirroring my expression with one of his own.
"Well, do you?" he asked, turning to face me in his seat. I suddenly felt awfully transparent beneath his gaze. I ran my fingers over my glass, contemplating my answer. This was usually where I would've lied.
"No," I said, rather quietly. I didn't know if I'd ever said that out loud. I could feel his eyes on my face, as if trying to capture my expression as I said the words. Don't say anymore.
"The first night I saw you," he said, "you were working. In the bar. I remember."
I watched him cautiously. The night we'd met wasn't a topic of conversation we frequented; in fact, it was quite the opposite. It was the greatest of all taboos; as far as Harry was concerned, or so I thought, it never happened. I was surprised to even hear him bring it up.
"Mm," I hummed, taking a sip of my drink. I bit my lip. "I quite like not having to do that, right now, I'll admit." Harry and I had not discussed my personal life very much at all, and it felt a lot easier to keep it that way - that was how it was with everybody; I could handle things myself, I didn't need to divulge my life's details, or share my own personal adversities. Nobody needed to know that sort of thing; nobody was interested, not properly.
"Why do you do it if you don't like it?" he asked. I swallowed, and tried not to appear too stiff, attempting to ignore the way my mind began to race at his mere question. I knew there wasn't any sort of trap behind it, but it felt like there was one.
"I told you before. It's a stable job, and a stable income."
"I know," he pressed his lips together, tilting his head to the side as if examining me - not in a way that was harsh, or derogatory, but in seemingly genuine curiosity. "I just wasn't sure I quite believed you."
I looked over at him, looking over at me. I wondered if he was truly able to read me as well as I was beginning to suspect he could, or if he just wanted me to believe that was the case. I'd never had anybody be unconvinced by my declared motivations or reasonings; I'd never had somebody suspect there was something much deeper. I peered down at the glass in my hand, mindlessly toying with it. When he looked at me like this, it felt as if I was being seen, properly, for the very first time. I wasn't sure if I liked that, or loathed it.
"Izzy, if you don't give me at least one proper dance tonight, then this whole thing will be a waste." My head snapped up to see Elin standing before me, her hand outstretched, a grin on her face. I couldn't help but feel a funny pang of relief at Harry and I's conversation being interrupted; he was attempting to delve beneath the surface far deeper than anybody was allowed to, and Elin's arrival would put a stop to that, at least, temporarily.
I took her hand in mine, unable to resist glancing at Harry over my shoulder as Elin led me to the dance floor to join the others. I didn't even notice as Mitch peeled away from the group to approach Harry.
I laughed as Sarah separated from Mitch to join Elin and I, dancing around to the loud thump of the music. Pauli threw an arm over my shoulder, joining the three of us in swaying around. This was what I'd wanted. I wanted this; exactly this - I wanted to have fun without him, and to be more involved with the others - away from him. Sure, he was standing right behind me, and sure, deep down, I wanted to do anything but avoid him - but I needed to. I didn't know why I felt such an urge to push against his distance, when quite simply, he was doing me a favour.
Getting drunk was somehow the last thing I felt like doing, that evening. I'd had a couple of drinks, but it felt like it was growing tiresome. I wasn't quite sure what I needed to do to stop this; this odd, incessant feeling that something was off, or wrong. I wasn't sure if it was still that nagging feeling in the back of my head that I had no real right to be here, and that I didn't actually deserve to enjoy myself - or if it was something else. Something was missing; something wasn't right.
I glanced over at Harry, another drink in his hand, but it appeared equally untouched. He certainly wasn't very drunk, either, I could tell that much. I'd seen him drunk on a couple of occasions; his shoulders would drop, his eyes and his features softening - this wasn't one of those occasions. He was laughing - in the beautiful way that he did; throwing his head back and squinting his eyes shut.
I wasn't sure how long we stayed out, just as I wasn't sure how many drinks everybody else had. I also wasn't sure how much Harry had to bribe the DJ to play the instrumental for 'Happy Birthday' in this very packed night club, so that we could all very obnoxiously scream the lyrics at Elin as she stood on a table, miming that she was conducting us. Despite my feelings of being out of place, or lacking something I wasn't quite aware of - somehow, when I looked at the faces surrounding me, I felt okay.
I'd only known these people for a mere week, but it somehow felt like a lifetime. I figured that was how it was, when you spent every waking second with these people, seven days a week. Travelling together, staying in hotels together, eating meals together, working together - the only real 'alone time' that there was, was when you went to sleep in the hotel room. Seven days ago, I wasn't sure I'd have liked that idea. But when you were together, constantly, things seemed to intensify much faster; I knew they'd all known each other far longer than they'd known me, but the life I'd had back in London only a week ago almost felt like a different lifetime; I felt like I'd known, and spent so much time with these people ever since I could remember. And of course, that wasn't the case, as much as I wished it was - I wished this life was all I'd ever known; but I knew this was temporary, a luxury - an escape. Everything had shifted far more than I could've expected.
I could feel Harry looking at me - that was another thing. Though I'd met him prior to the past week, I felt like I'd known him even longer. I almost forgot that there was a time where I couldn't sense him walking into a room, or feel him looking at me. There was a time, only two weeks ago, where I didn't know how his lips tasted, or how his skin felt. I wasn't sure I remembered a time in my life where my mind felt at peace; where there wasn't something to mull over, or contemplate - but I'd never thought that my point of contemplation would be him. I'd never have imagined that one being - one that wasn't a point of trauma, or hurt - who I'd known for such a short period of time, could have this kind of effect on me. I'd never have dreamed that I could spend seven days with somebody and not remember what it was like to spend a day without them; even when we didn't speak much, it was almost unfathomable that only a week ago, I'd lived a life where we didn't exchange glances in the hallway, or across the room, or he didn't send me a random text from his hotel room, or beckon a smile from me that I didn't even mean to give. I'd spent so long not knowing what it felt like to have his hand graze my waist as he brushed past me, or the way he would hold such strong eye contact when speaking to me - but it was now unimaginable to be without it. In only seven days - seven, full days, spent with these people from morning to evening - and though I still hadn't fully found my bearings, without intending to, I'd grown accustomed to having their company; I'd grown accustomed to having Harry's company.
When we finally made our way back to the hotel, my mind couldn't help but flicker back to the last time we'd had a night out like this one, when Harry had cut in when I'd danced with a random guy, and I'd confronted him about Stella. The cab ride back had been filled with an icy silence, my own chest filled with pure fury and irritation at the audacity of Harry, and his sustained presence before me. It was funny - even though we'd been much more explicit in establishing boundaries since then, nothing between us felt much clearer. Every line felt just as blurred, only with the added complication of our interactions since then. The only difference, now, was that I didn't want to reach across and strangle him in the cab - I wasn't in the same position I had been, thinking he was some egotistical, pompous cheater, who had used me and then proceeded to insult and mistreat me. This time, I felt a stupid fondness when he'd catch my eye, and his lips would twitch into a tiny smile, tilting his head to the side a little. It was like he knew what he was doing. I was entirely grateful for the distraction of sustained conversation between the group, everybody still clearly buzzing with happiness from the night.
"Iz," my name was called from behind me, undoubtedly by the only person who shortened it in that way. I paused, preparing to turn away from the elevator I'd been about to step into, where Elin, Sarah, Pauli, and Mitch stood. I caught Elin's eye as I did so, watching her nudge Sarah in the side. I narrowed my eyes as I watched Elin frantically step forward to press the button to close the door, leaving me with no other option but to stand with only Harry in my presence.
I turned to face him. I wasn't even sure what time it was, but the early hours of the morning definitely looked good on him.
"I was going to get another drink," without taking his eyes off me, he pointed behind him to the hotel bar, "d'you fancy having one with me?" His face resembled that of a teenage boy who had just nervously asked a girl to prom, his hands shifting to cross behind his back.
I paused, where I was. I shifted awkwardly in my position, the tap of my shoes on the floor the only noise to be heard in the deserted hotel lobby. When he looked at me like that, who was I to say no to him? His eyes flickered from my own, to the lower half of my face, and I chose to believe he was definitely not looking at my lips. This was a bad idea.
I glanced back at the elevator, which thanks to Elin, had already left me behind. It was like I was being faced with the ultimatum of the turmoil that had occupied my mind all week; all night. This was some kind of ultimate test - we weren't working, now - I wasn't taking photos of Harry, working, I wasn't watching as he did an interview, or practiced his performance - working. This was social; he was inviting me to have a drink with him - a friend, having a drink with another friend.
He stood in front of me, clad in the luxury of his outfit, waiting on me. If I was ever going to find out what had been bugging him today, or if I was ever going to be able to make a decision about what needed to happen next, for us, this was the time to do it. This was ample opportunity to remind myself of the real dynamic between us - a platonic one; a friendly one.
I knew it was a bad idea; I knew the last thing I should do in trying to confront my own feelings was spend time alone with the very person I was incapable of pushing from my mind. This morning, after he'd done his best to avoid me, I would've thought the last thing he'd have opted to do, was invite me for a drink, alone. But, perhaps, then, that exemplified how he saw me - how I should've seen him - as a mere friend, who he could have a casual drink with. Great.
"Okay," I said, taking a tentative step in his direction. He sent me his signature boyish grin, a little satisfaction crossing over his features to erase the hesitation that had been there a moment before.
"Okay," he returned, stepping aside a little as I approached him. He gazed over at me for a moment, before he blinked rather abruptly, turning his head away. "Okay," he repeated, a little quieter, before he took a small step back and held his hand out, gesturing for me to walk ahead of him. I heard him blow out a breath behind me as I moved in front of him, prompting me to glance back at him over my shoulder as we walked.
Okay.
-
HELLO! oh my gosh
I haven't done an a/n in FOREVER. I hope everyone is doing well :')
I know my update schedule is NOT what it used to be, but I've had a lot going on this past month or so - I promise I am doing my best. this chapter also seemed to take SO long for some reason?? Idk but I really really appreciate all of your patience
But I just want to say that I appreciate all of you SO SO much.. the love I've been receiving on this book is absolutely insane and I genuinely cannot wrap my head around it. I am so lucky to have such lovely, understanding n supportive readers and honestly I spend a silly amount of time crying reading all of your lovely comments and messages so thank you so SO much. It honestly means the absolute world to me, as cliché as it sounds, I am just so so grateful
we are also almost at 9k which is absolutely insane - again, THANK YOU!!
I hope you're all still enjoying the book. I have big plans for this, and I can't wait to get to them :')
I love u guys so so much. truly. thank u <3