Post-prom activities ceased to exist because every business closed by ten o'clock in an tiny town, and by midnight the girls were home in bed and Liam and Harry were on the couch in Harry's living room. Dad had provided each with a celebratory beer, something Liam hated the taste of but drank anyway, and bellies were stuffed with chips and anything else they could forage for in the cabinets. Reruns of Fresh Prince ran on the television for hours, even long after dad had left them in pursuit of bed.
Harry had curled himself up against the arm rest and chewed on a piece of mint gum that had lost its flavor all too soon, turning rubbery and pungent tasting between his teeth. A commercial break willed him the power to get up and throw it away, but he stole a new piece from the pack on the counter.
Liam looked up at him when he reentered the living room, tired face leaned against his palm. He wasn't expecting Harry to speak when he settled back in his still-warm spot. "Can I have my wallet back?"
His voice startled Liam out of his nearly sleeping state, awakening him fully in a fraction of a second. "Oh yeah." He'd changed into a pair of Harry's pants, but had absentmindedly slipped the wallet into his pocket once again. Fumbling in the loose fabric to grab it, it was tossed onto Harry's lap.
His thumb ran along the edge of the leather of the item he'd missed so badly just a few hours earlier, and he chewed on his lip. He inhaled sharply, getting ready to speak, but he stopped before the words came. He was nervous for his confession, but also dying to tell his friend. Lips pinched together, and then he forced himself to speak. "I needed this."
"Sorry, I'm so used to carrying mine that I forgot it was yours," Liam apologized.
The wallet was gently tossed in the air, landing back in Liam's possession. He grasped it off his lap, and looked to Harry with confusion in his eyes to be met with assured ones. "Open it and look in the coin slot, then tell me why I needed it."
"What?"
"Just do it."
Liam followed Harry's orders, flipping the folded piece of leather open to look inside. Harry's face in his driver's license stared back at him as his fingers fumbled through, and the zipper used for the safe keeping of coins was pulled open. There were no coins. Just the condom Harry had, not so coincidentally, stashed away inside early in the night. It fell to his lap and he looked to his friend, "Dude, I'm sorry."
Harry's teeth chewed on the inside of his cheek, and he confessed. His voice was low, keeping his words just loud enough for Liam's ears and nobody else's. "I did it."
"You did?" Liam's eyes scanned his face for some sort of... anything. Any emotion at all would've sufficed, but Harry's nerves for what Liam might say kept his face blank. "Like, did it, did it?" Harry's index finger was held over his lips, urging Liam to speak more quietly. He was very aware of his parents just up the stairs, and the last thing he wanted was for one of them to overhear. Liam's voice dropped just as quiet as Harry's. "You lost your virginity?"
Harry nodded, and the fact that Liam didn't seem disappointed in him provided enough comfort to smile. "Not entirely on purpose, but certainly not on accident either."
Liam eyeballed him with confusion. "What does that mean?"
"Like, I wanted it to happen so I kind of planned it, but I also didn't expect it to happen the way it did." Harry wasn't looking Liam in the eye anymore, focusing his attention to the seam of a decorative pillow. "At least expected a bed, not a car."
Liam snorted, "You had sex in your dad's car."
Harry cracked a full grin, trying not to be amused by it. "I did."
"You didn't..."
Harry looked up when Liam didn't finish his sentence, and he followed Liam's eyes to his wallet. That gave Harry an idea of what he was getting at. "She had one."
"What was it like?" Liam prodded. "How'd it happen?"
Harry glanced over to his friend out of the corner of his eye, "I'm not going to give you a play by play."
"I don't want a play by play, just tell me how you managed to get laid before me."
Harry laughed a little too loud for three a.m. and he forced himself quiet. "Neck kisses. The flood gates open."
Liam nodded slowly, and his fingers fiddled with the wallet on his lap. "Vagina is truly a godsend."
Harry had to bite his tongue to stop himself from laughing, shaking his head from side to side instead. "You have no idea."
"I know I don't," Harry's own wallet was tossed and hit his shoulder, before it plopped down to the couch cushions. "Dick."
Liam stayed the night over at Harry's, and it wasn't until past four that Harry crawled into bed to sleep after his eyelids refused to stay open. Daylight came too quickly, and so did his mother's offer to take the boys out for breakfast. Harry's inability to wake himself up earned him just another short thirty minutes before he was dragged out of bed, into the rainy weather of a Saturday morning. Water droplets clung to the ends of brown curls, and Liam hid himself away underneath a hood.
Drowsy eyes tried their hardest to stay alert while being squished in a hard wooden booth before ten a.m. even had a chance to display itself on the clock, but the scent of fresh coffee held in the air kept his nose from planting into his plate. Harry's fork poked at his eggs, causing the yolk to burst and ooze into the mess the previous one had already made. He felt eyes on him when he swirled the yellow goop around. "Don't play with your food."
The fork was set down with a clatter against the glass plate, feeling too full for another bite. He reached for a tiny packet of jelly instead. Welches grape, and he fought a grin. She only liked Welches grape. The packet was held onto, fumbled in his hand to keep himself busy. One last bite of egg was taken into his mouth, even with having no room in his belly left.
Mother announced, "Book club is at our house tonight."
Harry waited patiently to chew and swallow before he spoke. "I'll be leaving then."
It earned a slight chuckle, not quite loud enough to be heard over the clinking silverware filling the small diner, but he could see in the way her shoulders shook. "I wish I could."
"Come to the gym with me," Liam offered. "You haven't in a while."
Harry's stomach twisted at the idea, but if he were to be honest with himself, he knew he needed the exercise. Figuratively chasing Aubry's unobtainable heart didn't exactly count as physical exertion, and it seemed that's where he'd been pouring every ounce of energy he had over the past weeks. Despite being told not to, Harry started to poke his fork at his food again. "Fine."
"Don't sound so excited."
A too-big to be real smile was flashed toward his friend, and Liam laughed. Harry's laziness never failed to amuse him, even later in the day when Harry was extra tired and extra-extra didn't want to go to the gym, but was dragged out of the house anyway. It was just before women of the neighborhood began to show up so he missed out on having to share friendly hellos and small talk, lucky him. His mother was busy scrambling around in the kitchen to throw together the snacks Liam and Harry had been dragged around the grocery store to collect after breakfast. A finger sandwich was swiped off the plate on his way by, and Harry's cheeks were stuffed full when he stepped out on the front stoop behind Liam.
He caught sight of a puffy cheeked Harry, and he chuckled. "You're gonna be fat one day." Harry's words were muffled and unintelligible when he tried to speak with his mouth totally stuffed to the brim. His shoes scuffled on the walkway, following behind. "I understood none of what you just said."
Beats of silence followed while Harry struggled to chew with his too-full cheeks, until he could swallow enough of the sandwich to speak, "That day is not today."
The gym was relatively empty when they stepped inside, Nike sneakers padding across the spongey rubber flooring while Liam lead the way to the front desk to check in. Harry's fingers fiddled with the display of protein bars and 'health cookies' while zoning out on the brief conversation held with the clerk behind the desk, and absentmindedly followed Liam's lead when he started toward the workout space.
"During the summer I'm going to get you to come with me more," Liam spoke over the energetic pop music playing over the speakers. "No excuses."
A sip was taken from Harry's water bottle, and he came to a stop when Liam hung his car keys on one of the several hooks on the wall. "Are you subtly trying to hint that I'm fat?"
Liam glanced over to his friend, quickly scanning his figure once over. "You're a rail."
Maybe not quite a rail, but Harry was naturally lean. He didn't have to try to stay thin. He had, however, packed on an extra few pounds over the winter from stress and overeating during Christmas break that he hadn't put any effort in dropping. Hardly noticeable, just a small amount of extra squish around his hips and lower belly. Not even enough for his pants to feel tight.
Liam took a step around him to glance around the room, looking for a specific frame that seemed to be lacking. "Aubry is usually here when I am, but you're not so lucky today."
Harry took his own look and saw no sign of reddened hair or porcelain skin, but the lingering possibility that he could was enough for him to not completely hate being there anymore. Could even have given him the slightest bit of motivation to show up more often, because nothing was better than Aubry in skin tight workout pants.
Liam started off with abdominal exercises focused on strengthening his core, which meant Harry had to do it too and he soon wished he lacked the ability to move at all. Liam was ripped already, but the sets and reps of weighted crunches showed the slight outline of Harry's abdominal muscles weren't as strong and soon turned to a burning stomach ache. Just when it came to be too much, Liam pushed him into working his arms and chest.
Sweat clung to his skin, a rolled red bandana used to keep dampened curls from flopping onto his forehead. Dumbbells clattered against the floor when they slipped from Harry's slightly raw hands, left smooth and without callouses from lack of strenuous work. His arms felt like wet, overcooked spaghetti noodles when he settled on a weight bench to rest for a minute.
The last gulp from his water bottle soothed the dryness in his throat and the moisture collected on his face was wiped away on the shoulder of his T-shirt. Liam finished his set and his weights were hung on the rack, rather than being strewn on the floor haphazardly like Harry's were. "If you came more, you'd hate it less. It gets easier."
It wasn't so much the physical exertion he hated, it was the screaming pain and muscle fatigue. Also, Liam pushed himself to go for hours, and Harry just didn't have that kind of stamina. "How much longer?"
"Not long. Short one today."
The gigantic clock on the wall disagreed, because it had already been over and hour and not long in Liam's book was at least another forty five minutes. His reassurance didn't fool Harry, or his painfully full bladder. He stared down at his shoes while Liam picked his weights back up to continue where he left off, and Harry excused himself to the bathroom. Both because he actually needed to pee, and because he felt a bit like his arms would pop off like Mr. Potato Head if he tried to lift another weight.
The locker rooms were on the opposite side of the gym, and the men's was mostly empty for once, perhaps because of the rainy weather everyone decided to stay home. Just a few talking voices lingered in his ears when he passed through the locker spaces to the toilets in the back. Hardly a few minutes later he emerged again, but took the long way back toward Liam to buy himself more time away. The long way meant passing by the stretching area, which, low and behold, he found the person he was hoping would show up.
She had her shoe propped up on a bench, bent over to tie the laces. He never saw her face, didn't have to, just the short legs and the undeniable curve of her bottom he'd spent so much time marveling at was enough to know it was her.
She was oblivious to his presence until his fingers clasped onto the very end of her ponytail and gave a gentle, teasing tug, causing her to gasp. She stood up, eyes wild, until they landed on him. Her eyes met his while he looked down on her with a smile, and she ripped at the wire hanging from her ears to dislodge her headphones. "Stop announcing your presence in scary ways."
He chuckled, but she was serious. Nothing was more terrifying than being caught off guard as a female, especially when she was by herself. The mischievous glint in his eye remained, giving way to the fact that he really had no idea what it was like to have to worry like she did. "We can stretch together again."
The dampened look of his curls were a clear indication Harry had already gotten his workout, sweat laden skin glowing under the fluorescent lighting. Hardly a fraction of a second was needed for Aubry to catch on to what he truly meant. Her mind flashed back to the time she'd tried to get him to stretch, forced his body into positions it didn't want to go in, and he spent the entire time with his eyes glued to her skin tight spandex. He'd at least felt shamed by it the first time, but Harry had grown more comfortable and he'd unapologetically do it again and again.
She shoved at his chest, barely pushing the budge-proof boy from his spot. "Fuck off, pervert."
Another laugh reverberated in his chest, the vibration felt when his hand pinned hers to the surface of his slightly moistened T-shirt. "I'm not a pervert."
She pushed at his chest again, and he faked weakness when he allowed himself to topple to his rear on the mat. It landed him staring up at her, and her hands met with his shoulders to push him even more until he laid down. "Bring your knee to your chest."
Harry smirked at her order, just the look alone showing he really was only trying to play games. But, she could play games too, and her games weren't as fun as the ones he had in mind. She came to stand with her feet on either side of his legs.
"Foot," she ordered with her hands held out in request for his sneaker. Harry simply stared up at her, taking in the curve of her hips and thighs. She repeated herself, more sternly than the first time. "Give me your foot."
He laughed through the word, "Bossy," falling from his lips, but he gave in and lifted his foot in the air for her to grab onto. It resulted in his leg pinned to his chest, foot stretched out over his head with an ache in his hamstrings and glutes. "Okay, it's more fun for me when you stretch," he strained through the pain.
Aubry ignored him and proceeded to pin him in more and more uncomfortable positions. Ones that hurt his thighs, his hips, his groin, his arms. Not a single muscle in his body was left ignored, even when he insisted he was perfectly limber and didn't need any more. The only, and he insisted, only, good part was the oddly favorable assertiveness she possessed. No was not taken as an answer, and he did as she told him to do. Not only then, but always... but also, maybe he just liked being bossed around. At least, by her. And maybe, just maybe, she liked the submissiveness.
He felt loose when she finally stood up straight and left him alone, face down in the mat after having nearly just touched his pinkie toes to his eyebrows. He shuffled to his knees while she stepped away to take a sip of water, not wasting a second in fear she might try to pop his arm out of socket next. "You're a sadist."
No acknowledgment was given while she popped her water bottle closed and set it aside. She dropped to her knees, then to the floor, and proceeded to put herself in the same position he'd just been in moments before, pulling her foot up toward her head to stretch her thigh. Only, with a lot more flexibility and an even bigger lack of complaints. Harry settled back on his heels, hands on his hips, and watched her hold the position.
He didn't disturb her until she relaxed her leg once again, and that was when he reached out to slap her ass. She squeaked in surprise, and he wore a triumphant grin. "That's all I wanted, have a good workout."
He was too busy pushing himself up to stand to catch the devious look she flashed his way, and when he began to leave, she pushed herself into a sitting position. The glint in her eye couldn't be ignored, and her finger curled to beacon him closer once again. His shoes stepped back onto the mat. "One time," she muttered. "I fucked you one time and you're already getting brave."
Less than twenty four hours had passed and he was still riding on the confidence boost, which made it easy for him to play along with the mischievous tone in her voice. "You like being spanked, consider it a favor."
Aubry leaned forward, planting her elbows on her folded knees, but subsequently giving him just enough of a peek down her shirt. "Go finish your workout, pervert."
The second time he was called a pervert.
An amused puff of air passed his lips. "I'll see you later," he said. I love you, he meant.
Liam was finished by time Harry returned, and they left minutes later after passing by Aubry running on the treadmill. She had her music in her ears again, paying no mind, and he struggled to walk by without showing her any attention.
The remainder of the time until Harry was sure it was safe to go home was spent at the Payne's household, where nobody was home and Liam's cats were curled up into a snuggled ball in the middle of the couch. Itchy and Scratchy, matching Siamese Mrs. Payne treated as her forth and fifth babies. Harry sat beside the two, running his fingers through the ball of fur and limbs unable to tell which one he was actually petting.
They startled when Liam harshly plopped down on the cushion beside them, jolting them both awake. Harry's hand ran over Itchy's head, delicately flattening the cat's ears. The same was repeated to Scratchy. "That was mean."
"What's mean is when they scream and meow at my door all night," Liam replied, eyes glued to his phone. "How do you initiate sexting?"
"I don't know."
"You're useless."
Harry's brows pinched together, "Wait for her to do it, don't be gross."
"Desperate times call for desperate measures. I'll send a winking face." Liam locked his phone and tossed it next to the cats, startling them once more. "I'm still baffled why you of all people would've gotten laid."
"That's offensive."
"I don't mean it, like, you're undesirable," Liam clarified. "I mean it, like, you won't even change in the locker room because you don't want people to see your dick."
"It's not my dick I'm worried about," Harry rebuffed. "My dick is fine."
Liam shrugged. Harry's reasoning didn't matter to him, only that he was cripplingly shy. "Still just never really expected it. Sorry."
Harry looked down, focusing his energy on the cats rather than being offended. He wasn't aware he was viewed as someone who would never get to where he was, like he was doubted for reaching basic milestones in life. Not that Liam truly expected it to never happen, ever, but certainly not in the short months long span he'd even shown interest in Aubry at all. Harry chalked it up to Liam being bitter, which was slightly true, and kept his mouth shut about it to avoid an argument.
Liam pushed more. "So are you actually official now, or just fuck buddies?"
"Great question."
Liam's phone chimed, signaling an incoming text message, but he held off on opening it to give Harry his attention. "You don't know?"
"No," Harry denied. "Hopefully the first because I don't like the term fuck buddies."
Seemed dehumanizing, especially with the heavy weight of her on his heart.
"Friends with benefits."
Equally as bad.
"Dating," Harry corrected. Because, technically, prom was a date. Even if she refused to look at it that way. Bold statement, but a bold guy. Also, a guy who, by definition, fucked on the first date.
The question lingered in Harry's conscience far longer than he would've liked it to, even with the continuous reminder she would mutter whenever he got too affectionate.
"I'm not your girlfriend."
Then what are we?
The label didn't matter so much to him. He didn't need the title, but he did desire some clarification. Where were the lines drawn? Harry could kiss her forehead and assure her she was beautiful, they could sleep in the same bed together, she could poke her perpetually cold toes up his pant legs to annoy him. He could mumble all his truths and secrets to her with ease, he could seek solace in her. She could assure him he mattered in the world, but would jump on the chance to remind him he didn't matter quite enough to take claim over him. He couldn't call her his, and even if she would never do it, she could call him hers. They could be intimate, they could laugh together, but he could not call her his girlfriend.
That was confusing.
Maybe it had something to do with his inability to share his affection for her in front of his family. That was the only logical explanation he could come up with, other than the crippling insecurity that nagged in his subconscious that he just wasn't good enough.
Mass was held every Sunday, which meant every Sunday they had to avoid direct eye contact and proceed to play as though just the day before they hadn't had their tongues down one another's throat. Their sins remained secret and unacknowledged week after week, and Aubry never thought twice about it. Harry couldn't say the same. One day, he knew, he'd step through the church doors and burst into flames.
He felt guilt for lying, but his fear of telling the truth kept his confession locked up behind sealed lips. Confession booths were a place where the glue on his tongue seemed as strong as cement, and he would not speak. He wouldn't tell the truth, because the truth cost the price of his opportunity with her, and that was payment he wasn't willing to give up. Not to a Catholic priest, not to his parents, not even to God himself.
Note to self: It's not sinning if God can't see.
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I've been writing for 12 hours, my eyes burn. Also my first official day at my new job is tomorrow (technically today because it's midnight) and I'm stoked. Wish me luck, hopefully I don't suck ass
Luv u