I hadn't spoken to my family much, if at all. My dad was occasionally in contact, but we always had been. We didn't always get along, and he was a stern, opinionated man who didn't know how to show love or affection, and sure, maybe growing up he was absent a majority of the time and had no clue of how to deal with, or bring up, children, but hey. He was the best of a bad bunch.
So, the surprise I felt when my sister called me this morning was most definitely justified.
"I'm calling to make amends with you. Conflict isn't good for the baby, and though we still believe that you are unwell and need to check back into a psychiatric ward, we also believe that it is healthiest for us all if we made up." she had said. Her voice was so full of certainty and I knew that arguing against it wasn't an answer, even if she was being a bitch about it. I'd just said that, yes, of course I agreed with her.
The phone call was short and I was thankful for that. Sure, it ended with me feeling deflated, but this was normal. This was normality.
Something that was not normality, for me, however; job interviews.
For my previous job, at the club, I had auditioned. There was a world of difference between auditioning, between screwing the boss, and sitting down to chat and answer interrogation-style questions. But, it had to be done.
So, here I was.
"Miss Barton-Prifti, how wonderful it is to meet you." the boss says to me, shaking my hand. He was tall, around 6ft6, and handsome. Probably around 35.
"Lovely to meet you, too, Sir." I say, my voice slightly breathless from the anxiety consuming me.
"Please, take a seat." he says, motioning to the chair opposite his desk. He took a seat behind the desk.
I sat down, straightening out the pencil dress I had on. It was black, and I had tried my best to look classy.
"So, what brings you here today?" he asks, looking at some notes on his desk.
"A friend suggested that I try for this job, and so I took her word for it." I nod. "Of course, I am capable of making my own decisions, it was just nice to have a suggestion," I trail off, sounding panicked all of a sudden. Shit.
"Amazing," he nods. "So, if we're being honest here, there haven't been many people interested in the position we are offering here," he explains. "It's pretty niche, surprisingly. Nobody wants to teach our students dance. To be honest, with you, Zahara, nobody has had the correct vibe. We're talking women in their mid-40's, which, don't get me wrong, isn't necessarily a bad thing, but somebody with a certain energy and approachable demeanour is required, or preferred." he says.
"I understand." I nod, biting the inside of my cheek.
"I understand that you went to university to study dance?"
"Yes, I did."
"Amazing results, too." he says, scanning my CV ahead of him.
"Thank you," I say.
"This friend who recommended the school to you, how did they find out about this job?" he asks.
"Lauren? She works here, as an art assistant." I nod.
"O-oh," he stutters, clearing his throat afterwards. "Of course, yes. Lauren." he nods. "Wonderful teaching assistant, truly."
"Yeah," I say, furrowing my brows together at his peculiar response.
"You have no experience in teaching, do you?" he says, changing the subject.
"No, unfortunately not."
"That's fine. We can give you a crash-course on the middle schoolers. I know, that doesn't sound highly professional, but honestly, we're desperate and you're young and the children will love that," he chuckles. My eyes widen.
"Really?" I gasp.
"Can you start Monday?" he asks.
"Oh my god," I smile. "Yes, of course!" I beam.
"Excellent. I'll email over the requirements for clothing, equipment, etcetera. On Monday, your official timetable will be given to you, but over the weekend, I'll email you some rough ideas of the days you will be teaching, how many classes, etcetera. We'll also send over a template for the classes and what is on their curriculum." he explains. I couldn't help but smile the entire time he spoke.
"That sounds perfect, sir." I smile.
"Please," he says, standing from his chair. "Call me William,"
"Well," I say, standing to my feet, also, "thank you very much, William. I won't let you all down." I smile.
We shook hands once more, before I left the room, and returned to the dingy hallways, which now felt brighter and more full of life.
I was going to be a teacher! A dance teacher, at a school!
As I left the building, smile still plastered to my face, I couldn't stop my mind from racing; if the previous teacher hadn't left to teach high schoolers, I never would've gotten the opportunity in the first place. If Lauren didn't work here, I would've never known about the job. If they weren't so desperate for a teacher, I wouldn't have gotten the job. Yet, here I was; hired, as a teacher, at a school.
Things were starting to look up, and I was undeniably ecstatic about that. Without fear of things going wrong, I was ecstatic.
-
"I'm so fucking proud of you, baby," Harry says in my ear, for the millionth time.
We were currently mildly celebrating. Just Harry, Lauren, Zack and I. I'd thanked Lauren a million times.
"Shh," I giggle, wriggling away from his warm breath fanning my ear, my jaw.
It was 11pm. We'd been drinking for quite some hours now, but any excuse to drink was a good one.
"I think we should play a game," Lauren smiles.
"Like what?" Zack asks.
"I don't know," she laughs. "Something silly."
"What about the classic, 'never have I ever'?" I suggest. It was lame, but it somehow always managed to be fun.
"Oh, yes! We love this game," Lauren giggles.
"Isn't it more 'say it or shot it' with alcohol?" Harry asks.
"Have you always been a spoil sport?" I joke.
"Mean," he pouts.
"Okay, I'll start!" Lauren says.
We were sat in Lauren and I's living room; Harry and I on the sofa, Lauren and Zack on the floor, by choice.
"Never have I ever, thrown up from alcohol," Lauren says, starting with an easy one.
We all, except for Zack, took a gulp from the drinks we were still finishing.
"What, you've never thrown up from alcohol before? Not even once?" I gasp.
"I haven't," Zack shrugs. My eyes widen.
"Impressive, buddy." Harry says, his own eyes wide, as if to say, 'couldn't be me'.
"Okay, my turn," Zack says. "Never have I ever pissed myself when drunk." he smirks, looking over at Lauren.
"Oh my god," she pouts. "It happened one time." she says, rolling her eyes before taking a gulp from her drink. Neither Harry or I needed to.
"It's definitely happened more than once," I shrug. "It's not your fault you can't handle alcohol," I laugh.
"Shut up," Lauren groans.
"Does the turn go back to Lauren now?" I ask.
"Why don't we just go around?" Lauren suggests.
"Okay," I nod. "I'll go," I say, winking at Harry. He chuckled. "Never have I ever, faked an orgasm."
Both Lauren and I laughed before taking a gulp from our drinks. The boys gasped.
"Excuse you?" Harry says.
"Not with you, idiot. Trust me," I chuckle.
"Laur?" Zack asks.
"Maybe like, once." she hiccups. "Mainly before you, though."
"'Mainly'," Harry laughs.
"You're a bitch," Zack chuckles, shaking his head.
"Alright," Harry says. "Never have I ever, sucked someone's toes." he giggles, like a child.
Unsurprisingly, I took a gulp. But then, so did Harry.
"Guys!" Lauren gasps.
"Not Harry's," I say. "And never again,"
"Not Zahara's. But I probably would, if that's what she was into," Harry shrugs. Lauren and Zack laugh.
"Yay, back to me!" Lauren smiles. "Never have I ever, had sex in a public place."
We all drank, and the questions continued to progress, until our drinks were empty, then refilled, and emptied again.
By around 1am, we were all blindingly drunk. Like, dancing in the kitchen, but hardly able to stand, kind of drunk. Music was blaring, most likely annoying the neighbours, but it was the sort of moment where things such as that didn't matter. Because it was you, it was them, and it was this one moment that meant both everything and nothing at the same time.
But then, something always closed these moments in. Whether that be the natural end of the mutually enjoyed scenario, or something causing it to halt to a sudden stop.
In this case, it was vomit.
"Oh my god, Zack!" Lauren gasps, before laughing maniacally.
"Fuck!" Zack chokes, his alcohol-induced vomit all over the kitchen floor. Harry and I fell about laughing, as did Lauren.
"It finally happened, bro!" Harry laughs, referring to the moment in the game earlier, where Zack had said he'd never thrown up from alcohol before.
"I'm so sorry," Zack gasps, covering his mouth as he looked at his pool of sick.
"It's fine," Lauren laughs. "You good now?"
"Don't even know where that came from," he pouts.
Our voices were all raised above the music that was blasting, so I turned it off for a few moments whilst we discussed the matter at hand.
"Take him to the bathroom," I say to Lauren. "Sling him over the toilet and then clean him up, I'll sort this out," I assure her.
"Really?" she says, sounding thankful.
"Of course," I nod.
"You good, buddy?" Harry checks with Zack again, who was beginning to look a little more unwell.
"Never dancing like that and drinking with you guys again. Alcoholics," he gags.
"Toilet. Now." Lauren demands, yanking Zack as fast as she could to the bathroom. We heard the door slam closed, and moments later, faint sounds of vomiting were heard.
"Nice," Harry chuckles.
In my mind, our words had been so articulate and concise, but, in hindsight, we probably sounded extremely slurred and as though we were learning to speak for the first time.
"Help me clean up?" I ask, giving Harry my best, my most convincing, puppy eyes. He smiled and rolled his eyes.
"'Course. Can never say 'no' when you give me those eyes," he smiles. I wink at him, before grabbing the cleaning supplies.
The two of us began to clean up the mess, and after a few minutes, it was done. As though it never even happened.
"God, we just make such a good team," I tease, once we'd discarded of all of the tissues and washed our hands.
"Tell me about it, baby," Harry smiles, gently pushing me against the kitchen counter as he began to lean down.
Harry's soft lips brushed my own. The kiss was so small, gentle, that if I had even had a single more drink, I probably wouldn't have felt it. But somehow, it erupted so many little butterflies inside of my stomach.
I pressed our lips back together, properly this time. Harry responded immediately; moving his mouth against my own, in a rhythm that always seemed to perfect to us, for us.
Interrupting us from the kiss, was a throat clearing.
"Gross. Need to get to the glass cupboard," Lauren says, standing a few feet ahead of us.
"Oops," I smirk, stepping out of the way, as Harry did the same.
"Wasn't what it looked like, I swear," Harry jokes.
"How's Zack?" I ask, as Lauren made a glass of water.
"Still over the toilet," she laughs.
"Think it's karma for his smugness towards having never thrown up from alcohol before," I joke.
"Yeah, well, can karma not? I hate watching people throw up," Lauren pouts. "It's icky."
"Aw, go be a good girlfriend," I tease.
"Thanks for cleaning up," she sighs.
"It's all good," I smile.
"Night, guys," she smiles.
"Night," Harry says sweetly.
"Night!" I say, before Lauren disappeared with the glass of tap water.
"Beddy-byes?" Harry asks, giving me puppy eyes.
"Fine," I giggle. "Only because you're cute."
"Yay," he smiles sleepily, giving me a quick peck.
After brushing our teeth and taking a quick shower, we made our way to my bedroom. We undressed again, and climbed into bed.
The room was dark, but the curtains were open; dim street lamps and moonlight illuminating the room, just enough to make out the others features. We were laying on our sides, just looking at one another. The room felt so very quiet in this moment, as though, and this wasn't a new feeling when it came to Harry, we were the only people in this entire world. This entire universe, even. The peace that surrounded him, us, was addictive. I wanted this feeling, this very feeling of his eyes on my own, moonlight shining, bodies warm and close; I wanted it to last forever.
Which is what drove me to say, without thinking necessarily of how it sounded, how vulnerable it made me, "You are my soulmate."
To which Harry responded with, "Tell me something I don't know, baby."