"I need a drink."
Harry mumbles to himself as he slides tiredly onto a barstool, his hand moving languidly over his face before his elbows prop his chin up on the bar. His feet hurt, his back aches, and his jaw is sore from forcing so many smiles.
For the last several hours, Eleanor dragged him around the party, making conversation with every single person here — forcing him to listen to trite chats about the last thing they bought at Sotheby's or their latest yacht purchase. When the conversation finally shifted to him and Eleanor, it was always about the wedding. What flowers did they choose? Who was catering? Did Eleanor find her dress? The few questions that actually pertained to him had more to do with his artists and their careers than they did his own, which was so utterly depressing that it made him want to scream.
He stares at the wooden bar forlornly, jumping when a glass of bourbon and ginger slides into view. He looks up curiously to see the bartender from his restaurant, smiling in relief at her. She gives him a knowing smile before working her way down the bar to take care of the other guests.
"This is some party, man..."
Harry turns to see Nick slide onto the barstool next to him. His tie is already loosened around his neck, and he looks tired — and Harry can instantly tell that something is bothering his best friend. It's then that he realizes he hasn't seen Nick once during his rounds with his fiancé.
"You ok, man?" Harry asks, taking a sip of his drink. He sighs, licking his lips — and it's just what the doctor ordered. Nothing like a little liquor and his best friend to brighten the lull spot of his evening.
"Yeah..." Nick trails, waving to the bartender and pointing to Harry's drink to order the same. "Candy called me as soon as we got here," he rolls his eyes, "...crying."
Harry's brow furrows as he takes another sip. "Why?"
"Well," Nick pauses, thanking the bartender for the drink in front of him. "I dunno, man. She's upset now because she didn't come with me. Something about being mean to me?" He sighs. "I dunno, man. She was just freaking out, and I was just trying to calm her down."
"That sucks, bro..." Harry pats him on the back, although there's a small part of him that is jealous. He wished Eleanor would apologize for being mean to him, just once in his life. But then again, Nick and Candy are in the honeymoon phase of their relationship. He and Eleanor are engaged. Apples and oranges, as they say. "Maybe you could —"
"Harry, darling..."
Harry cringes and freezes instantly as the high cultured voice of his soon-to-be mother-in-law assaults his eardrums. He turns to find an older version of his fiancé, tall and lithe with her white blonde hair pulled back into an elegant twist. Her eyes were blue, but not quite as bright as Eleanor's, the skin around them not quite as firm — but that's really more of a testament to her surgeon, not that she would ever admit to that. She comes from a long line of debutante Ladies Who Lunch, fulfilling a life sentence of throwing charity functions and jet-setting between Fashion Weeks — all of which has refined her to be poised and graceful, cultured and demure, but more than anything, vicious when crossed.
"Beatrice!" Harry exclaims. She holds out her hand to him, which he takes to squeeze and kiss the back of ceremoniously. "Glad you could make it."
"You know I never miss a good party," she smiles saccharinely at him. She never misses a good opportunity to gossip.
"Ronald with you?" He asks, curiously.
"Oh, no darling...he's in New York City for work," she waves her hand dismissively. "He was so disappointed he couldn't make it," she wrinkles her nose as she looks around, "...he loves barbecue."
Nick snickers. "You must be Eleanor's mother," he offers. Beatrice tightens her icy gaze on him, standing a little taller as she takes in the sight of him.
"Beatrice...this is my best friend, Nick," Harry offers. She tips her chin up, staring down the slope of her nose at him.
"Oh, you're the best man..." she trails. "I've...heard so much about you." Nick smiles as her voice tightens.
"It's all true..." Nick mutters, downing the remainder of his drink as Beatrice scoffs. "Now, as I was saying H...we've got to go with the high class strippers for the bachelor party. That's not where you want to scrimp and save, ya know?"
Her eyebrows raise, but other than that, her face gives nothing away. Six generations deep of blue bloods means that she's poised to handle anything that could come her way with grace and dignity. She gives him a polite smile before turning back to Harry.
"You must be in love with this party," she gushes, making Harry force a smile. "Black and white, how elegant!"
He forces a continued smile he hopes looks genuine, as he has done all night. "Yeah, it was Eleanor's idea."
She rolls her eyes playfully. "Obviously. As if." She reaches over to straighten Harry's tie, her fingers smoothing around the fabric teasingly. "I'm so glad you went with the black suit instead of the white. Eleanor said you were debating."
"Oh," Harry shifts uncomfortably. Her hands smooth inappropriately down his chest. "I really liked the white one, but..."
"This is obviously such a better choice, sweetheart..." she looks him up and down, licking her lips longingly. "You're such a handsome young man."
"Always the lady killer, this one..." Nick smirks, licking his lips at the awkward scenario playing out in front of him. He calls the bartender over for another round. Beatrice eyes him disapprovingly, and Harry suddenly sees where his fiancé gets it.
"It's so good to see you again, Harold..." she trails, her hand patting his knee and slowly sliding up his leg. He nervously clears his throat before looking back up at her. "We should all get lunch sometime. Eleanor tells me you love Katsuya."
"Yeah, I..."
"Oh — that sushi place!? I love that place. Maybe I could come too..." Nick interrupts. Beatrice just stares at him emotionless.
"Yes...well," she clears her throat. "Enjoy your party, Harry."
And with that, she tires of dealing with the riff-raff and gives Nick one last disapproving look before turning on her heel, letting her chiffon skirt billow in the wind. Nick snickers as she disappears, sipping his drink.
"You're a shit stirrer, you know that?" Harry laughs.
"Gotta do something to liven up this party. Although, I think your mother-in-law might have been trying to liven it up on her own. Damn, what a cougar."
Harry sighs, not wanting to be reminded of just how crazy his in-laws were going to be. He just turns around on his bar stool, elbows propping him up against the bar as he looks out at the crowd of people still there. Nick does the same.
A few people are milling about the dance floor, a slow, mellow song playing that he doesn't recognize. He looks up at Mitch, who is playing unemotionally on stage, looking bored out of his mind like the rest of the band stuck playing slow tunes when they should be rocking out. As he watches them curiously, he can't help but reminisce about the times they used to jam all night, trying out new songs and testing tried and true covers, bringing any song to life with the artistry the five of them had intrinsically.
What he wouldn't give to climb on stage right now with them and just jam like old times.
Eleanor would have his head.
"Livvy looks good tonight..."
Harry blinks slowly, his mind completely jarring at his words. He slowly looks over to his best friend who is smiling profusely, giving a slight nod of his head across the room. Harry's eyes follow his gaze, and he sees me standing with a group of people who look like assistants, a glass of champagne in one hand and the other arm wrapped around my middle self-consciously.
His eyes widen slightly when he sees I'm talking to a handsome young man in an expensive looking suit. I glance away from him for a moment, instinctively catching Harry's eyes from across the room and offering him a small wave. Harry's brow furrows as he sees the man touch my arm to draw my attention back to him, nodding politely at whatever he's saying.
"Yeah, she does..." Harry offers, downing his full drink. "Who's the guy?"
"No idea," Nick offers airily, smiling smugly at his friend.
"What?" Harry asks. Nick just looks at him before chuckling. "What!?" Harry demands again, making Nick laugh louder this time.
When he finally gains his composition, he slaps Harry hard on the shoulder. "You like her dude."
"I do not," he argues defensively.
"Cut the crap, man. I see the way you look at her. You like her. You might even be in love with her," Nick offers.
Harry's face scrunched in disbelief. "No!" He pauses, biting his bottom lip in thought. "Just...no!"
"Okay, then...I see we want to do this the hard way," Nick sighs, moving to lean on one elbow while he looks at his best friend soberly. "Tell me one thing you don't like about her."
Harry scoffs, opening his mouth to rattle off a long list, but nothing comes out. What doesn't he like about me? He closes his mouth, face screwing up in thought. He kind of hates it when I get that clipped tone with him when he calls me when I'm in the middle of something. But then again, I always catch myself in the middle of it and apologize profusely, which actually cancels out his first complaint because I'm always so genuinely sincere about everything. He loved that the most me. Wait — this was supposed to be things he hated, not loved. Okay, well — he kind of dislikes how I try to ignore his jokes sometimes, but then again — making me laugh at the end is always so much more rewarding when I've been holding out on him. He definitely hates how I'm standing there with my arm wrapped so self-consciously around my body when I'm absolutely perfect to him.
"You just keep thinking over there," Nick chuckles after a good minute or two. Harry scoffed in return.
"I don't like the way she lets Eleanor talk down to her," he finally says. Nick just gives him a look. "Okay, shut up."
"Didn't say a word," he laughs.
"I do not like Olivia," Harry insists, but Nick just nods.
"Would it be such a bad thing if you did?" He asks, taking another sip of his drink. Harry looks at him in astonishment.
"Um...considering the fact that I'm engaged, yeah — that would pose a bit of a problem."
"Why?"
Harry rolls his eyes, tiring of this nerve-wracking conversation. "Why? Seriously? Because I'm fucking engaged."
"I didn't say you had to act on those feelings, Harry..." Nick trails. "But who could blame you, if you did?"
They both silently turn to watch me, now brushing my hair out of my face and arms finally falling down to my sides, exposing my dress in its entirety. Harry can't help but think about just how beautiful I am in this moment, his eyes traveling over every inch of me in wonder.
What if he did like me? He shouldn't even be thinking about this, not even letting the thoughts enter his mind. But he can't help it. I'm Livvy, his Livvy. The one woman who can turn his day around simply by showing up, who can calm him down when he gets all worked up, who listens to him and cares — actually cares — about his thoughts and his feelings, who actually sees him, not just for the man I want him to be, but the man he is and always has been. The one woman who will go out of my way to make his day better, even if it makes mine harder.
He watches me smile, the dimple taking over my cheek, and it steals his breath for a moment as it pulls him from his thoughts. How had he missed this? The longing, the pulling, the millions of little almost kisses, and of course, the barely there real one that had given him butterflies — seeing me splayed out for him that one time he conveniently pretended never happened, but that he didn't actually forget when he had to pleasure himself because his fiancé wouldn't.
He liked me.
Like, like-liked me.
"Looks like Mr. Smooth over there is going in for the kill..."
Nick's words cause Harry's thoughts to break, his head whipping to where I was, seeing the young man stepping closer, the predator's eyes on my chest where they shouldn't be. He set down his drink hurriedly.
"Where ya going, buddy?" Nick smirks, his tone suggesting he knows exactly where his best friend is going.
"She needs help," Harry offers, not even waiting for Nick's response before working his way through the crowd.
He weaves his way through the people, smiling at a few who stop him to tell him how wonderful the party is — heaven forbid they actually care to wish him a happy birthday. But that's beside the point. He's on a mission to rescue his Livvy from this scum bucket.
He shouldn't be doing this. He doesn't even know if I want the help. For all he knows, I could really be into this tool who is flirting shamelessly with me, but he doesn't see how I could be. He's not even that good looking — and while his suit is expensive, it's nothing special. It's certainly not custom made Gucci. He is so obviously wrong for me, and if I couldn't see that, it was up to him to save me from myself.
As he approaches, our exchange becomes clearer over the hum of the voices around us.
"I was named after my Grandfather," the guy says haughtily, swirling the champagne in his glass while I feign a caricature of interest.
"Well, Stanford is a nice name," I offer awkwardly, and Harry can feel himself sneer. Stanford? The guy's name was Stanford?
Stanford chuckles, leaning closer to me still. "If you think Stanford is nice, you should hear my phone number..."
"Olivia!!" Harry bellows jovially, smirking when both of us jump to look at him.
"Um...hey Harry!" My enthusiasm doesn't quite match his, my arm instinctively going over my chest self-consciously again, one hand grabbing my opposite bicep securely. "Did you...did you need something?"
"A dance..." he smiles, and my eyes widen. "Come on, Eleanor blew me off to be a social butterfly, and it's my birthday..." He looks up at Stanford, whose well-bred face is looking at him, not in malice, but indignation. "You don't mind, do you?"
"Oh, it's fine," I offer for him, handing Stanford my half gone glass of champagne. "It was nice to meet you..."
"Yeah, good to meet you..." Harry smiles triumphantly, his male ego getting quite the boost as his hand slips to the small of my back, fingers dangerously close to the curve of my ass, as if he was staking his claim.
"God, thank you..." I breathe a sigh when we were far enough a way, shoulders slumping. "I didn't think he was ever going to shut up."
Harry laughs, but his brow furrows when I step away from him. His mind gets sidetracked as the length of my bare, exposed spine is completely visible to him, licking his lips before snapping out of it. He gently grabs my wrist to stop me, pulling me back to him. "Hey, where you going?" He looks into my eyes deeply before smiling. "Dance floor's this way."
My eyes widen and I stutter slightly. I don't think this is a good idea, but I'm perilous to stop him as he snakes his hand into mine, our fingers intertwining as he leads me through the rest of the maze of people to the dance floor. I can't help but feel like I've won the lottery with our hands so delicately bound together.
I blush when he stands in front of me, both of us a little awkward as a few couples sway around us. Then, he gives me that trademark grin before wrapping an arm firmly around my waist, pulling me to him. His other hand pulls my arm up and around his shoulders before wrapping his hand tightly around my free one. As we settle in to our dance position, I feel his hand splay against my bare back, sending shivers up my spine as I bite my bottom lip.
"You still cold?" He asks gently, fighting his own shiver as his left hand moves smoothly up and down the bare skin of my back, neither of us needing to imagine what my skin felt like against his fingertips anymore.
My lips part and I do my best to breathe normally, but I'm temporarily unable to speak. "Yes," I finally muster.
He looks down at me, his left hand slowly slipping to the top of my ass to pull me closer to him, our fronts now firmly touching, and his hand finds comfort in the top of the curve of my bottom.
I'm completely breathless. I know this is a dangerous game we are playing, dancing like this in front of all of Los Angeles high society. But in some ways, I feel safe. Eleanor is too busy hosting, and we are surrounded by so many people that Harry would never let anything real happen, nor would anyone probably notice. And if I'm being even more honest with myself, I couldn't fight the feeling of being wrapped up in his arms, even if I wanted to.
Harry is staring down at me as we sway, breath fanning my face as he takes in my form. He can't believe he's never noticed the little yellow flakes in my green eyes before, or just how smooth my skin is. How could he have seen me every day for the last four months and never realized, consciously, how breathtakingly gorgeous I am to him? He lets his mind wander to all of our moments — the restaurant, the tree house in Holmes Chapel, the golf course. The pulls of intimacy hit him with everything I am to him for the first time. How could he have missed it...how perfect I am.
"So this is a fun party..." I offer awkwardly. It's then that he realizes he's been staring, not speaking.
"This party is boring," he smiles while I giggle. "Toga would have been much more fun..."
"Ugh, yes..." I sigh. "I feel ridiculous in this dress."
I curl my shoulders self consciously, looking down between us — and as much as Harry wants to be a gentleman, his eyes follow suit. He lets his eyes travel the close expanse of the slopes of my barely clothed and bra-less chest, letting himself imagine what I would look like exposed — what the flesh of my mounds would taste like in his mouth and feel like in his hands. He can only imagine how I would sound whimpering as he nibbled and sucked on my nipples. God, and what I would look like if I were just where I was now, but a little lower — unbuckling his belt. The way I sucked in my bottom lip wasn't helping the intensity of the dirty mental pictures playing in his mind.
He shakes his head, fighting the thoughts endangering the invisible barrier between us. He fights the pulling in his groin as his hand wanders again against the skin of my back, momentarily closing his eyes and letting the thoughts creep back in his mind. It's his birthday, after all — it's like a free pass — and like Nick said, what does it hurt if he doesn't do anything about it? But man, what he wouldn't give to not be so honorable in this moment to execute them.
"I mean, this thing probably costs more than my entire wardrobe," I mutter, snapping him back to the conversation at hand before he got so sidetracked. "And that's including the bag you two got me for Christmas..." we both chuckled.
"Don't be silly," he scoffs. "You rock that dress, Livvy. Own it."
"I feel like I'm playing dress up," I offer. He smiles at my honesty. "Like I don't really belong here."
"Of course you do, you're beautiful," he offers before he can stop himself. My breath catches at the sincerity of his words, our eyes crashing together in an instant. I see something there I've never seen before, but with a blink, it's gone — replaced with the mask he can sometimes wear so well. "Like...Grace Kelly beautiful," he says with a grin, and I blush profusely.
"Oh, stop..."
"Like...Elizabeth Taylor beautiful," he continues, the grin on his face widening the more I blush. "Like...Like..." his breath comes out in a rush when I look up at him again, smiling so hard that I'm showing off the dimple that he loves. He's blinded in that moment, his breath caught in his throat.
"Like you."
I'm struck hard by his words, the sincerity in his voice causing it to lower, and that sense of waiting is back, the pull towards him so strong that I'm almost drowning in it. Harry smiles slightly, enjoying the stunned look on my face. He's always amused at how shocked I am by compliments. He's just about to open his mouth to say so when he's interrupted by a camera flash that blinds him, and he growls.
"Cal!" He exclaims, and his friend let's out a low chuckle.
"Sorry, kid — "
By the time the vision is back in his eyes, Cal is across the room again.
"Hey..." I start, tilting my head to hear the new song starting. His head turns back to me, noticing the look of contemplation on my face.
Harry looks at me perplexed until the melody hits his ear as well, forcing out another groan. His eyes flit up to the stage to catch Mitch, who gives him an apologetic smile. Harry grits his teeth. Eleanor.
"Eleanor is testing out wedding songs..."
I blink at him. "'In Your Eyes' is gonna be your wedding song?"
"Not if I have anything to do with it," he spats, looking extremely appalled and I can't help but laugh. Before he can stop himself, he asks, "what song would you have be your first dance at your wedding?"
I'm caught off guard by his question, blinking at him unsurely. "Oh, I dunno..." I say nervously, wiggling my fingers in his before looking up.
"Come on...you do too know. All you girls know. I know how it is, you and your little plans since you're a kid," he teases. He squeezes my hand, and I can't help but give him a rueful smile.
"Well," I say, then sigh, breath fanning against his neck and it's his turn to shiver. "I've always really liked 'I'm Yours.'"
Harry's eyes widen and his mouth opens. "Shut up! I love that song!" I can't help but giggle at his enthusiasm. "I wanted it, but Eleanor vetoed it..." he scowls playfully, and I laugh.
"What have we said about letting Eleanor do that?" I tease.
"I know, I know.." he rolls his eyes. "I'm working on it."
"We need more Business Meeting Harry," I remind him, invoking our little joke. "I like him."
"He likes you too," he offers, not even thinking before the words leave his mouth.
I bite my lip, both of us looking at each other awkwardly. That pull is back with a vengeance, and what I wouldn't give to just make out with him, feel his tongue against mine, let my hands grip his hair and hold him as close to me as I need him to be —even if the worst slow song in the history of slow songs is playing right now.
"Well, umm...I can't really have that song anyway," he offers, trying to swing us back into neutral territory. "You claimed it."
"I did claim it," I smile, jumping in on his joke. "It's mine, and I don't share."
"Oh, is that so? I'll just buy the rights then..." Harry deadpans in a playfully threatening tone. I narrow my eyes.
"Oh yeah? Well, I'll book you on the first plane out to the Caribbean. You won't have time..."
He lets his head fall back, a loud burst of laughter erupting from his throat. He looked so happy, so handsome. I do rarely get to see him like this, and it's just stunning when I do.
"The Caribbean is rather nice this time of year," he concedes, and I laugh before pursing my lips at him.
"You know, this would be much funnier if we couldn't really do all of these things..."
He smiles. "Indeed. What a strange life we lead..."
I smile at him, and it steels his breath away again, both of us slightly aware that the song is coming to an end, the light applause starting to ring out. His daze is broken as I step back from him, his fingertips sliding along my skin as I step reluctantly out of his grasp before he can cup my cheek or push the hair off my face like he wanted to.
"Thanks for the dance," I offer awkwardly, slowly letting my arm cross over my chest again when he doesn't say anything. "I, uh...I think it's time for your cake."
"Oh right," he says, a hint of disappointment in his voice. He looks around and noticed people gathering towards the stage. "Thanks...thanks again for the dance."
His hand reaches out, curling around my bicep, and it's like second nature to him when he moves to lean down. I'm shocked as his face moves closer to mine, our lips less than an inch apart. He suddenly realizes what he's doing, shifting his target slightly so his lips kiss my cheek, capturing the side of my lips just slightly instead of my lips like his Auto-piloted subconscious intended.
Heat courses through my body, and I'm paralyzed. All I want to do is just grab his shirt collar and kiss him, but I know I can't, quickly reminded of the sea of people we're surrounded by,
His body tenses as the claps ring out, eyes flicking up to meet mine, and he can smell the sweetness of my breath.
"Alright!" An MC asks from the stage. "Where's the birthday boy?"
And just like that, the moment is shattered like usual, his eyes sadly watching as I disappear through the crowd, the distance between us feeling simultaneously completely gone and forever widening at the same time.
But he couldn't think about that now, couldn't let himself focus on the longing pooling of butterflies in his belly or the sadness in his heart. He had a show to put on. It was his birthday, after all. People were expecting him.
Per usual.
—
A/N
Thanks for all of the love yesterday. Sorry I was having such an emotional moment. Life is really difficult for me right now, but I know it will get better. Your kind words really did mean the world. Thank you for that.
In the meantime, sorry this birthday party is taking up so much time — but it's an important event that sets up a lot of stuff. Almost over, only one more chapter really of it.
What are you thinking so far about the story?
Feelings on Harry & Olivia?
His mother-in-law?
Nick schooling him on feelings?
Lol.
Hope you have a great weekend, lovelies! Appreciate you! :)
Xo,
NB