No, we're not friends
Friends are something that we were
Before me sleeping in your shirt
But, baby, we're past that now
Friends don't do the things we do
We're Not Friends - Ingrid Andress
♤
Layne
Harry didn't come into Jack's on Saturday night and I didn't see him at all on Sunday. We texted a little throughout the day, but he seemed pretty busy because his responses were short and took hours to send.
He stayed over on Monday night though. I got off work a little earlier than normal because it was so slow, and he showed up to Jack's after I had already left. He texted me and asked if I wanted to hang out. Of course, I said yes. We ordered takeout from the Thai place down the street and binge-watched a new Netflix show until I passed out on the couch.
When I woke up on Tuesday, I was in my bed and Harry was making breakfast again. He was trying to make as little noise as possible but then he dropped a pan in the sink and grumbled a loud "shit." I rolled over to see where the sound had come from and Harry was standing in front of the sink with his eyes on high alert in my direction. He gave me an apologetic smile and I just laughed. We ate breakfast and he hung around until I had to go to work – making comments on my shitty record player along with my lack of décor. I repeatedly told him to leave me alone because I'm seeing my sister this weekend and she'll help me get some stuff to bring my apartment to life.
Which brings me to today. It's Thursday night and the bar is pretty packed. I'm off this weekend and I couldn't be more excited. Not only do I get to see my family, but I actual get to go to bed at a decent hour and wake up before eleven.
I'm most excited to see Zoë though. She's been extremely busy this past week, so we didn't get to talk much aside from Ashton's birthday. I have so much to fill her in on – specifically things that involve Harry. She mentioned that she needed to tell me something when we see each other this weekend and I feel a little nervous about what that might be.
I can't think too much on it though because a group of bar-hoppers just stumbled in.
Nicole glares at them and shakes her head. Jack's is the last in a short strip of bars, so people are usually blackout drunk when they get to us. Since I started working here, there have only been a handful of bar-hopping groups and every time the bouncer had to remove them.
Seth got promoted from dishwasher to bouncer – we were desperate after the last bouncer quit to move to California – and it's his first night on the job. Nicole thought making him work a Thursday would be an average day to ease him into his new position, but by the look she's giving me, I know she's regretting that choice.
"Seth is a good guy, which is why I need to hire a new bouncer asap," she says as she makes a drink next to me.
I laugh and place a round of shots on a tray, "poor guy. Are you going to demote him back to dishwasher?"
"No," she tsks, "I'll probably put him back here with you or make him a busboy."
I consider the former and shrug, that wouldn't be so bad. Seth seems like a really nice person. He's really funny and always super sweet. I don't get to talk to him very often, but I'd like to.
Nicole leaves me alone behind the bar while I hand off the shots to one of the guys in the group. He's sober, which has me thanking the heavens. When he ordered, he noticed my annoyed expression and he apologized, letting me know they'd be leaving soon. It's his friend's twenty-first birthday, so I can't be too upset. I'd be lying if I said I didn't do the same thing.
As I'm closing the tab for a group of girls, Nicole bumps me with her hip, and I give her a confused look.
"Loverboy's here." She says so only I can hear.
I turn around to scan the bar and the second my eyes land on his, the butterflies start fluttering uncontrollably. He's wearing a worn, grey t-shirt with colorful bears joyfully walking across it. He's worn it before, and I just now realize that one of them is holding a rose. I give him a small, tight smile, and he barely sends me one back. His jaw is tight, and his lips are pursed.
I go back to what I was doing and hand the receipt back to the girl. My legs carry me to where we keep the liquor and as I pass Harry I ask, "The usual?"
His eyes snap up from where they were focused on the counter. "Yes."
I nod and reach for a glass. Within seconds, his drink is done and I'm placing it in front of him.
I rest my hands on the bar as he takes the glass. "Got any fun plans tonight?"
He takes a sip and raises a brow at me. He licks his lips before he answers, "Am I meant to?"
I shrug, "No, I was just wondering."
He narrows his eyes at me. "Okay."
I chew on the inside of my cheek for a couple seconds while he takes another sip. "Do you want to have fun plans tonight?"
He cocks his head to the side slightly and gazes up at me. "And what would that be?"
"Coming over to my place and eating cherries on the couch," I say, trying not to break out into a grin.
He tries to stifle his smile but fails and bites his lip to hold it in. His dimple barely pops into his cheek. Slowly, he shakes his head and there is a light to his eyes. "That sounds like an awful lot of fun."
"I know. It's going to be an absolute riot." The words leave my mouth and I snort.
Harry chuckles and takes another drink from his glass. "How could I say no?"
"Right? It's impossible." I'm also trying to stop smiling at how pathetic my idea of 'fun' is.
He takes a deep breath through his nose and his face looks a hundred times more relaxed now than it did when he walked in. "What time do you get off?"
"Midnight."
He glances at the clock on the wall and nods to himself. "Alright. I'll hang around."
"Awesome. I'll see if Nicole will let me go early." I wink and turn on my heel before I can see his reaction.
The rest of the night goes by smoothly. The bar-hopping group leaves when one of them tries to start a fight with another customer. Their sober friend practically drags them out of the bar as Seth quietly guides them out. He really is too nice for that job.
I make sure everything is spotless – well, as spotless as it can be – half an hour before I'm supposed to leave. Nicole notices and gives me a look of suspicion while I wipe the bar down. She checks her watch, then her eyes land on Harry and it's like all of the pieces fall into place. She tries to hide her smirk and snickers to herself.
"Alrighty, Layne, you're good to head out."
My eyes light up and I smile, "are you sure? Is there anything else you need me to do?"
"Nope. It looks like you've got something else to do." Her head nods in Harry's direction so slightly, I barely notice it.
I feel the heat creep into my cheeks, "I- I- no. Nicole, no."
She shrugs and turns away from me, walking out from behind the bar. "Whatever you say, baby cakes," she strides behind Harry and places both of her hands on his shoulders, leaning in towards his ear, "You two have fun."
Harry's eyes widen and his head snaps in her direction. Nicole lets out a cackle and pats his shoulders before she walks away. His eyes meet mine and that same bewildered expression is plastered on his face.
I hold my arms up in surrender, "I have no idea."
"Okay..." He blinks off the interaction.
I quickly get my stuff from the back and come back out to see Harry still in his seat. "You ready?" I ask as I walk up behind him.
He looks at me from over his shoulder and nods. We walk out of the bar, not a word shared between us, and head up to my apartment.
When we get inside, I toss my bag on the counter and kick my boots off. I didn't wear my Converse today because I was running late and didn't want to tie them. Harry closes the door behind us and takes his shoes off as well, placing them neatly next to the door.
My feet carry me to the kitchen and as soon as I open the fridge Harry says, "I'm not hungry." I freeze my actions and turn to look at him. He's now leaning against the bar, his forearms holding up his weight. I give him a puzzled look. "You always ask if I want anything to eat whenever I come over."
I raise an eyebrow in realization and nod slowly while I turn back to the fridge. Okay, fair point.
"Are you going to eat a clementine or are you going to spice it up, tonight?" He asks.
The confused expression returns back to my face, but I don't look back at him.
Does he really pay that much attention, or am I just that predictable?
When I don't respond, I hear him push off the counter and say, "I'll take your deafening silence as a no."
His footsteps get closer and then I feel him standing behind me, also looking into my almost-empty fridge.
"I don't have much," I say somewhat to myself.
"You never have much." He turns on his heel and walks away.
My eyes narrow and follow him as he walks to the couch and plops down on it. "Was that supposed to be a roast?"
"No, it's just a fact." He simply states.
I recoil and go back to looking for something to eat. As much as I hate to do it, I grab a clementine. My fingers peel the fruit while I head to my dresser, desperately wanting to change out of my jeans. I pop a slice into my mouth and start sifting through my clothes.
Harry glances at me, his phone in his hand, and chuckles to himself.
I know he's laughing over the fact that I am in fact eating a clementine. "Fuck off."
"I didn't say anything." He quickly defends.
"You didn't have to. That snicker said more than words ever could."
He rolls his eyes, "So dramatic."
"Says you." I grab my faded black graphic tee and a pair of black, cotton shorts and head for the bathroom. Before he can respond I say, "I'm going to change."
My clementine is finished in the bathroom, and my clothes are changed quickly. I wash my face and brush my teeth while I'm at it.
When I exit the bathroom, Harry is flipping through movies on Netflix. After I toss my clothes in the hamper, I sit on my designated end of the couch. "Can I have the remote?"
He glances at me out of the corner of his eyes, "No."
"Come on, we watched your movie last time. It's time for a Rom-Com."
He scrunches his face up in thought, "Eh, I don't think so."
I huff in annoyance and in one swift motion, reach over to his side of the couch and snatch the remote out of his hand. I tuck the remote close to my chest and quickly jump back to my side. Surprise takes over his features and he narrows his eyes at me, fighting the smile on his lips.
My fingers press the control buttons on the remote until I make it to the comedy section. Whenever I pause on a movie for a beat too long, Harry says "no" and I glare at him. He didn't fight me on taking the remote, but I'll-be-damned he is being so annoying about picking a movie. I look at him in between every option, trying to see if he looks even slightly interested in it, but he doesn't show me any signs of intrigue.
I catch myself looking at his shirt, too. I love the little design on it, and it looks so comfy. The graphic is still visible, but the fabric looks thin and well-loved. I've seen him wear this shirt twice now, so I know it's one of his favorites and I can only imagine why. My favorite shirts are the ones that have been worn a million times – either by me or someone else.
"Why are you staring at me?" Harry's voice pulls me from my thoughts and my eyes snap up to his.
"I'm not. I'm staring at your shirt, I like it."
He glances down at my shirt. "I like yours, too."
"Maybe you can borrow it sometime," I shrug.
"Maybe you can borrow mine sometime," He repeats.
I look down at his shirt again. "How about now?"
His eyebrows knit together, surprised by my suggestion. He rolls his lips into his mouth, considering it. He takes a deep breath and sighs. "Okay."
Harry pushes himself off the couch and his hands pull up the bottom of his shirt. The next few seconds seem like a lifetime as his bare torso comes into view. There are two laurels tattooed along his hips. As he continues lifting the shirt, his exposed skin shows a butterfly tattooed on his diaphragm and two birds are inked on his chest. He has so many more tattoos than I thought, and I honestly could stare at them all day.
I swear there is a puddle of drool in my lap over the way I'm looking at him. His muscles contract under his skin as he finishes taking off his shirt. My eyes travel up and down his torso, trying to take everything in. I'm too mesmerized by his body to regain my composure.
He's so fucking attractive.
Harry holds his shirt out to me, forcing me to look away from his body. I flicker my gaze between the fabric in his hand and his face. When our eyes meet, I notice a glint of amusement in his, and the smirk on his face tells me he caught me staring.
I take a deep breath in attempts to relax my heart and bring myself back to reality. My hand reaches out to grab his shirt and I stand slowly. "I'll be right back."
His eyes scan my body slowly, the smirk ever present. He licks his bottom lip and pulls it in between his teeth, "Alright."
My breathing is shallow as I make my way to the bathroom and the second the door closes, I lean my body against it and close my eyes.
Okay, Layne, relax. It's just Harry – even though he is shirtless in your living room and has a body sent from heaven.
I slowly open my eyes and push myself off the door. My hands pull my shirt off and when I look in the mirror, I shake my head disapprovingly at myself. My chest has broken out in red, blushing blotches.
Who knew watching someone take off their shirt could get such a physical reaction out of me?
Without thinking too much into it, I pull Harry's shirt over my head. I'm instantly wrapped in the smell of his cologne mixed with a hint of cigarettes. I've never liked the smell of smoke, but something about it is just so him – I wouldn't change a thing.
The shirt hangs to my upper-mid thigh and is perfectly oversized. It is so unbelievably soft and fragile, I almost feel like I'll ruin it just by wearing it. I look in the mirror and pose a little bit. I never want to take it off.
I fix my hair a little bit before I exit the bathroom.
Harry is now leaning against the counter, facing the bathroom door, messing around on his phone. His eyes snap up to mine and they instantly fall down to his shirt. He's staring at me and I feel like an animal in a zoo all over again. A darkness falls over his eyes and his jaw tightens. He swallows and takes a calming breath.
"It looks good on you." His voice is tight, and it sounds like he has to force himself to say it.
"Thanks," I give him a shy, awkward smile. I hold my shirt out for him, and he takes it from me without looking away.
He blinks himself out of whatever trance he was in and throws the shirt over his head.
It fits him perfectly and something about him in my shirt makes my heart race. It's a little snug around his arms because he's way more muscular than me but it suits him. He always looks so damn good.
"I like it better on you." I take in the sight in front of me and can't help the smile taking over my lips.
A small smile toys at his lips and he drags his eyes up my body again and licks his lips. "Likewise."
I roll my lips into my mouth and step back to the couch, "Ready for a rom-com?"
After fifteen minutes of fussing, Harry finally agrees on a movie with me and it isn't even a romantic comedy. I skip over The Notebook so unbelievably fast, it catches his attention and he makes me go back to it. He says we should watch it and I groan in annoyance. Despite the fact that I tell him I hate the damn thing, he insists on it and I figure this is the best we're going to get, so I press play.
Throughout the film, Harry asks what the hell is going on and I tell him to watch the movie. He doesn't budge though, just glares at me and asks again. I end up ignoring him and decide to watch the movie myself even though I don't like it. After a little bit, I start watching Harry instead. Every now and then, he will laugh to himself or screw his face up in annoyance.
Somewhere towards the end, everything clicks for Harry and his eyebrows shoot up and he snaps his head in my direction. "He's telling their story!"
My heart swells at how innocent and excited he is. I try to stop a smile from breaking onto my face, but I can't help it. I giggle at how adorable he is and nod.
He throws his head back dramatically and tosses his hand out, "I should have figured that out forever ago, oh my God."
I can't help but laugh at his expense and go back to watching the movie but find myself watching him again.
The movie ends and the credits start to roll. I look at the screen with a blank, bored expression and turn to face Harry. "So, what did you think?"
He stares at the credits with his eyebrows furrowed and his lips pursed. "Why do you hate it so much?"
I roll my eyes and exit out of the film, "Because they die in each other's arms, that is so unrealistic."
Harry turns to me and shrugs. "But the rest of it was good."
My eyebrows knit together and a smirk spreads on my lips. "So, you liked it then?"
His eyes widen with realization and I watch as he tries to backtrack. "That's not what I said."
"Yes, it is. You said it was good. You liked it!" I hop off the couch and stare down at him with a victorious smile.
His features harden and he gives me a look of warning. "You tell anyone, you're dead."
My jaw drops and I let out a cackle. "Holy shit! I can't believe you liked it!"
He starts shaking his head. "Layne, stop talking about it."
"Oh my God," I can tell by how tense his shoulders are that he's serious. "Okay, I'm sorry. I'll stop."
He huffs then stands to his full height. He stretches his arms out over his head. I turn the TV off and head towards my bed.
"I'm going to go to the bathroom." He states and strides to the bathroom.
I sit on my bed and check my phone while I wait for him to come out. I put my phone down as fast as I pick it up. My mind starts to wander off in thoughts about Harry and the way he makes me feel. Whenever he is around, I feel my heart try to jump out of my chest, but I have to hold it back. It feels like everything outside of him and I disappears, like we're in our own world and nothing can touch us.
The things I feel when I'm with Harry are things I haven't felt in years. It feels like someone puts a shot of adrenaline straight into my veins and anything is possible. The butterflies that have set up camp in my stomach and my heart don't seem to be leaving anytime soon – I swear they multiply when he's around.
I like having him around.
He makes me laugh, and I haven't laughed in so long.
The sound of the bathroom door opening drags me out of my thoughts and Harry rounds the corner. He leans his shoulder against the wall and crosses his arms over his chest.
"Do you need a ride to the bus station tomorrow?" He asks.
"I was just going to Uber there."
He shakes his head, "I'll drive you. What time do you need to be there?"
I'm about to tell him that it's okay and he doesn't need to take me, but I already know it's no use. "Two."
"Okay."
"Are you going to stay, again?" I ask.
He licks his lips, "Do you want me to stay?"
"Yeah." I bite back a smile.
He smirks, looks at the couch, and sighs. He looks like he wants to say something but hesitates before he actually does. "Do you have any trousers I can borrow?"
I give him a puzzled look, "did you just say trousers?"
He rolls his eyes, "Do you have any sweatpants I can borrow?" He mocks in a terrible American accent.
I can't help but snort at his terrible mockery and stand up. "I think I might have something that will fit you."
My hands fumble through my pyjama drawer, trying to find this old pair of sweats I've had since I was in middle school. They were giant when I bought them, but they've stretched and lost some of their elasticity. I find them and hold them out to him.
"Thank you," he says and turns back to the bathroom.
I still can't believe that he knows how to use manners. He said please and thank you a few times the other day too. It's going to take some getting used to.
I make my way back to bed and crawl to the far side, leaning back into the corner. A few seconds later, Harry comes out and has his jeans neatly folded in his hand. He places them on the edge of my dresser and gives me a tight smile.
"Alright, off to the couch I go." He says in a sing-song voice.
I hear the sound of my own voice say, "You can sleep here."
Harry pauses as soon as the words leave my mouth and he gives me a confused look.
I have no idea why I said that, but it's too late to back out now. "You can sleep in my bed."
"Layne," he hesitates, "it's okay."
"No, please. The couch is lumpy and uncomfortable, I know." I insist.
"It's fine, really-"
"But I want you to." I interrupt and his eyes widen slightly.
I wasn't expecting that either.
He looks at the bed, then at me, and I can see the internal battle he's having over this.
It really isn't that big of a deal. I've fallen asleep plenty of times with him in my bed, this isn't all that different.
He sighs, "okay."
My stomach starts doing summersaults as Harry carefully strides over to my bed. I pull the duvet back and pull it over my legs as he sits down. All of his actions seem unsure and mindful, like he's worried he'll do something wrong. He lays down while I slide down onto the pillow. I lay on my side, facing him, and he lays flat on his back, placing his hand behind his head. He stares at the ceiling and chews on the inside of his cheek.
"Do you think my blanket is going to miss me?" He asks through the quiet.
My heart skips a beat when he refers to it as his blanket. "Maybe. You can go get it if you're worried about it."
"I think it will be okay. It was okay last night, right?" He raises a brow and turns his head to look at me.
A soft smile takes over my lips, "I don't know. It seemed pretty upset."
"Is that right?"
"Yeah. I heard it weeping all night, saying it was cold and lonely."
His face breaks into a frown, playing along with my story, "oh no, really?" He quickly turns his head towards the couch.
"Yeah," I nod, "it was heartbreaking."
"Damn..." he looks back at me, "Well, it'll get used to it."
I frown at the poor blanket's expense. "How could you say that? That's so sad."
He shrugs. "The second I laid down, I knew I would never be able to go back to that couch. You're right, it's really uncomfortable."
I instantly feel bad because he's slept there so many times. "I'm so sorry," my voice full of sympathy.
He chuckles and his eyes find mine. "It's fine. I never said anything. I was just glad I didn't have to go home."
"Yeah, of course. I'd never make you drive so far at two in the morning."
Harry's eyes fall to my lips and I lick them nervously, silently letting him know that I recognize he's staring. His jaw tightens and he swallows. His eyes gently gaze back up to mine and then they dance across my face. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, then he gives me a soft smile and looks back at the ceiling. He doesn't say anything for a few minutes, but I don't mind.
I trace my eyes over his features. They pause at his lips and I wonder what it would be like to kiss him. I know he tried to once, and I dodged it horribly, but now I want to know. His lips always look so soft, and I can't decide if his kiss would be the same way.
I keep my gaze moving down his torso. He's still wearing my shirt, and now my pants, and I've never seen him look so comfortable. He usually sleeps in whatever he wore during the day, and I realize now that I've never even offered him a change of clothes. He never asked for them, just like he didn't say anything about the couch. Maybe he's used to people not caring about his comfort.
That will break my heart if that's the case.
I focus on his face again and his eyes have fluttered closed. His chest rises and falls steadily, slowly. He looks so peaceful, so lovely.
I wish I would have made him sleep in my bed all the other nights; I like having him here. He looks so much more relaxed here, and I feel at ease with him so close. There is something about him I can't quite shake and frankly, I don't want to.
As I lay here, staring at this dark and beautiful man in the warm glow of the streetlights shining softly through my window, I realize this is something I want.
I want to spend my nights with him and have him fall asleep next to me. I want him to be close to me, and I want to be close to him.
Then I realize something else.
I have to break up with Trevin.