Harry's P.O.V
I slam my hands against the desk, the force of it burning into the center of my palms.
What the hell just happened?
What the bloody hell just happened?
Nothing makes sense. And between the car crash of questions colliding in my mind and the sudden, deep ache in my chest, it's impossible to process anything but anger.
I push myself up off the desk, my hands flying to my temples. I just need my head to stop pounding. Why won't it stop pounding?
"So..."
Completely forgetting he was here, I whip around to see Louis wiggling his eyebrows at me.
"Take it you and Chapman are a thing, then," he chuckles.
I eye him angrily as I straighten up and storm over to my chair, kicking the small bin out of the way as I nearly trip over it.
"Well someone's a wet blanket," he says.
"What do you want, Louis?" I ask under my breath, collapsing into the chair with the weight of the world.
"Nothin'. Just came in for a chat, that's all."
"About Kitty? Mate, could you have any worse timing?" I ask, rubbing my head as I lean forward onto my desk. Good grief, Hazel's gonna think I'm some goon who stares at girls all day. Like that creep, Westwood.
The memory of how his eyes had slowly travelled up and down her slender body at the party puts a pit in my stomach. It nearly makes me sick when the thought of him actually touching her crosses my imagination.
My foul thoughts are interrupted by the rolling of a pencil that refuses to stay put. In my frustration, I pick up the stupid instrument and hurl it to the side.
"Mate," Louis says with concern, "you've got to settle."
"Sorry," I mutter quietly. My anger morphs again, this time bringing an unfamiliar sting to my eyes. I keep my face down, but I can hear him take a seat across from me.
Off in the distance, a car roars, the tires screeching as it drives farther away, and I pray it isn't her.
"Did you drive her here?" I ask Louis, my voice muffled by my hands.
"Nope," he replies. God, if she hurts herself...
"I've been bored out of my mind for the last hour so I decided to go poke fun of Kitty for a bit before coming to bother you, which clearly" he leans forward as he jokes with me, "was a mistake might I add."
I smile weakly at him, but turn to look out of the window. Knowing that she must have driven herself wakes this queasy protectiveness inside my stomach. Even now, angry as I am, I just want her back safely set in my arms.
But that deep ache only rattles the empty cage surrounding my heart and causes the only sentence that I could process through our whole fight to echo throughout my body:
She doesn't want me.
I let out a heavy sigh as my anger begins to drain away. I almost wish it would back, though. Anything's better than the numbing ache of emptiness.
"So.." Louis says, drumming his fingertips against his legs as he cautiously stares at me.
"So," I repeat quietly, keeping my eyes fixed on the papers in front of me.
"You, um," he stutters while he sits up in the chair. He clears his throat as he eyes me a little uncomfortably. "So do you wanna chat about it, then?"
I eye him curiously for a second. He's my best mate, but in all our years of chasing girls, we've never really talked about them before. Except for that one time Irene Bradley dogged him. But even then, we maybe spent about five minutes cussing about girls and then spent the rest of the night egging her house.
We were sixteen then and that was enough to cure a broken heart. But now?
I'm not so childish as to go egg Hazel's house, and I'm far too in love with her to swear her off.
Bollocks, I'm in love with her.
No you're not, this is just infatuation my brain rationalizes. She's just some dame and I've been living my whole life just fine without her.
My brain starts to settle with this logic, but the sting in my eyes only seems to get worse. I blink my eyes slowly, trying to make it go away as I reply quietly, "No, I'm fine."
"Obviously," he replies dryly. "What happened?"
"Nothing," I huff quietly. I shuffle the papers in front of me aimlessly, trying to focus on something other than the pressure building in my head.
"Yeah, that looked like a whole lot of nothing." Louis lets out a snort as he draws his leg up over the other, the chair creaking from the pressure of his now bent knee.
"Quit breaking my chair," I exhale.
"Oi, quit avoiding my question."
I look up at him, and while I'm expecting him to be laughing at me, he's actually quite serious, and I know I'll have to give him something before he'll let it go.
"Look," I begin, "We spent some time together. Now she wants to spend it with other people. That's all."
When I look back at Louis, he stares at me like I've grown a second head.
"Uh huh," he says skeptically.
"What?"
"I dunno," he suddenly backtracks, looking down at his shoe.
"What?" I snap.
He rolls his eyes as he drops his leg and leans forward on his elbows. "Look mate, it's probably above my pay grade and all that, but in my mind, no one gets that mad at someone they're over."
I take a moment to mull over his words. Is that possible?
Wait, she had asked me to talk to her Grandfather. "Then why is she going out with Jack Westwood?" I ask myself out loud, genuinely confused now.
"She's what?"
I look back to Louis, realizing he must think that was directed at him. "She's going out with Westwood tonight," I tell him quietly. I can suddenly taste vomit.
"That there's bad egg if I ever saw," Louis says. "What's got her interested in that crumb?"
"Money?" I postulate, but cringe as soon as the words leave my mouth.
There's no way, is there? It made sense in my head before, but out loud, it sounds more like the bitterness of my insecurities than the gal I've gone dizzy over.
"Chapman? Really?" Louis ponders, sitting back with a look of surprise. "I didn't figure Chapman for a gold gal."
Louis' doubt echoes my own. Hazel hasn't shown even a speck of interest in such things, unless I somehow missed it? Have I been somehow blinded this whole time?
"She really said that?" Louis asks.
"Well, no," I reply hesitantly, picking at the button on my sleeve. "I mean kind of... I don't know," I sigh.
"You don't know what she said?" he clarifies slowly, his judgement annoying me.
"I don't know!"
"Mate, is it possible you pulled the good old 'Harry-blows-a-gasket' move?"
"No."
Shit.
"Uh huh," he replies doubtfully.
"I didn't!" I protest, about to blow another. "Look, she doesn't like me. It's over. And it doesn't matter, anyways. I'm fine."
"Well," Louis says after a moment, "Good riddance, then."
"Excuse me?"
"What?" Louis asks like I'm the crazy one. "From what you've described, she sounds rotten so it was a good thing you guys weren't anything serious."
"Of course we were serious!" I cut him off, unable to control my real feelings. "And she isn't rotten. She's.. she's.." I stutter, my rant loosing steam as Louis starts to laugh at me.
"What?" I defensively ask.
"You're such a bad liar," he cracks. "'Oh we're not serious,' 'she doesn't even like me'" he says in an obnoxiously slow voice, mocking me with a terrible impression of myself.
"I don't sound like that, you arse." I throw a crumpled piece of paper at him.
"Quit lying to yourself. You dig the doll. And my guess is something else is up."
I eye him carefully, his hopeful words easing my mind ever so slightly.
"Besides, had to feel good when she got jealous about the skirt comment," Louis points at me as he raises his eyebrows up and down like he's proud of his observation. I roll my eyes, laughing into a groan, still mortified that Hazel heard that comment.
"Okay, okay, I know- my fault" he quickly adds, holding up his hands guiltily. "But think it over."
I quietly nod as Louis slowly gets up and makes his way to the door. Maybe he has a point.
As he opens the door, he looks back and adds, "Just go get your girl, you fathead. And try not to blow another gasket while you're at it."
"Out!" I lean back, half laughing, half wanting to kill him.
He lets out a pleased cackle, and for a split second I feel like everything might be okay.
As soon as it's just me in the room, hundreds of the questions come crashing down on me almost as hard as the rain that beats against the window pane.
Why is she going on this stupid date? She looked like she was going to deck the man the last time I saw them together. And what's more, why would Hazel ask me to tell her Grandparents about us if she was trying to get in good with Jack?
This just doesn't make sense.
Of course you'd know more if you hadn't of attacked her, you crumb, my brain yells at me. I groan into my hands as regret begins to swallow me whole.
I messed up, didn't I?