#1dable

accidentally sleeping in usually isn’t a problem for mariska. taryn rises early enough for both of them and is all over breakfast for their current guests, mason is new but has taken to manning the front desk like a pro, and, well, harry’s usually around if anything else needs taking care of. mariska only has to manage it all, which can be done even if she oversleeps twice a month. accidentally.

but oversleeping on esther’s first day of school? mariska is The Worst.

“jesus christ,” she mutters under her breath as she hauls herself out of bed and yanks on whatever clothes she can find scattered on the floor.

she braces herself for the worst when she knocks gently on esther’s door to go in and wake her up. except–she’s not there. there’s no little esther in her bed. in fact, there’s no one in the room at all.

“esther?” mariska calls, even though it’s clear she’s not there. mariska was gone two days for a conference, but she can’t imagine things have changed too much. esther is just as much an oversleeper as mariska. apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, and all that.

it’s not until mariska goes back into the hall that she hears little girl giggles floating down the hall, and little toddler boy babbling with it, and–oh. the deep goofy voice of one harry styles prompting it all. now it makes sense.

mariska’s heart skips a beat when she peeks her head into her little kitchenette. she didn’t think she’d ever need a real kitchen with the b&b’s just down the hallway, but harry complains about it every other day. says it Cramps His Style. yet somehow he still seems perfectly able to make esther her favorite chocolate chip pancakes whenever she wants.

like this morning, apparently. there she is, sitting at the table munching away at her pancakes happily with chocolate smeared into the corners of her mouth. harry’s got her set up with a glass of milk and banana as well, leaving her be as he bounces josiah in his arms. both boys are shirtless, which doesn’t surprise mariska at all, because it’s harry, but it still makes her stare a bit and smile a lot and get that nervy feeling in her stomach that esther has so aptly dubbed The Squiggles.

“‘eyyy, looks like sleepyhead finally woke up,” harry says in his croaky morning voice when mariska finally unglues herself from place and walks in fully.

she glares at harry as she nears, though esther’s giggles make it hard to keep it up.

“i wouldn’t’ve been sleepyhead if someone hadn’t turned off my alarm!” she says. “seriously, harry, i’m going to get worst mom of the year award soon, and it’s going to be all your fault!”

“can’t be best mummy if you aren’t getting enough sleep,” harry retorts disapprovingly. mariska quirks a brow, and he adds, “yeah, don’t deny it. i heard you get in last night.”

“you–what!” mariska splutters. “you were sleeping on the couch again! harry.”

her glare this time comes from genuine concern, and when she’s close enough, she presses her knuckles into his spine. sleeping on the couch is terrible for his back, which already has its problems, and she’s lectured him on it multiple times. never seems to get him back to his own house and bedroom–spacious and gorgeous, and ridiculously expensive, with a huge california king bed.

harry dodges her touch with an indecipherable look on his face. “coffee for you,” he says, nudging a mug her way. mariska sighs but takes it willingly. as she does, she notices the brown bag lunch on the counter, and then also, on the chair next to esther, her backpack, completely ready to go.

mariska’s eyes slide back to harry, who’s watching her carefully, bottom lip sucked between his teeth worriedly. how he can manage to look like a sweet little boy and a sex god all at the same time, mariska will never understand.

“what would i ever do without you,” she murmurs, bumping her hip against his before moving away. she doesn’t miss his dimples before she goes.

“so, my darling daughter,” she says with a flourish as she sits down across from esther at the table. “how are you feeling? ready for this?”

“harry already gave me a pep talk, mommy,” esther informs her. “so, yes, i am ready.”

“there’s my little miss,” harry says fondly. esther smiles proudly, and that grin with her stark blonde hair and warm brown eyes make her look just like ethan. mariska’s heart sinks, just like it always does in moments like these, even more so when she glances down and her eyes catch on her ringless fourth finger. esther should be able to have her mother and her father here, that’s how it should be. mariska hates that’s not how it is. just one of the many other reasons she’s more thankful for harry than she can say.

there’s a knowing look in his eye when he sits down at the table next to mariska and settles josiah in his high chair. silently, he leans over and gives her a kiss on the cheek, something mariska used to think was just habit for him, some Customary Thing, coming from england. lately it feels like maybe it’s not, though. it might be Something Else.

“pancakes?” he murmurs in her ear. mariska shakes her head, all unsettled and squiggly again. she nudges harry’s side so he’ll get up.

“let me do that,” she says, taking the baby spoon from him so she can go about feeding her son. “shouldn’t you be off kayaking right now anyway? can’t miss a morning, can you?”

“got an earlier start,” he explains easily as he moves away and leans against the kitchen counter, arms crossed in front of his chest. “figured i ought to adjust my schedule so i can be here before school in the mornings, if you ever need me.”

mariska knows she ought to have A Lot To Say to that, but she can’t really think of anything at the moment. and, besides, the thought of harry being around every morning to help with the kids and get the day started right sounds too good to pass up.

“so you’re really not nervous?” mariska asks, turning back to esther. “you’ve got all your things packed up, i see. we haven’t forgotten anything, right?”

“i don’t think so, mommy,” esther says through her last mouthful of pancake. “and harry taught me how to make friends. he says be nice, share my things, and tell jokes. he taught me a bunch so i’ll be the most popular kid in class!”

“did he really,” mariska deadpans, with a glance over her shoulder at an amused harry. “at least we’re confident. just like your dad,” she tacks quietly.

suddenly there’s a warm hand squeezing her shoulder, and when mariska looks up, harry smiles down at her gently.

“it’s gonna be fine,” he says, and mariska knows he’s talking about more than just esther. mariska already knows he’s right. deciding to get a divorce was the hardest decision of her life, but the past two years have proved nothing if not that it was the right decision. it brought them back to michigan, got her the b&b, led them to esther’s perfect school, and, well. last but certainly not least, it gave them harry. and he’s a gift to all of them, isn’t he.

“all right, then, love, let’s wash off that syrup and get ready to go,” harry says, tugging esther out of her seat and toward the kitchen sink. “ought to take a picture to send to daddy, don’t you think?”

a gift indeed.

 🍂🍂🍂

 dropping off esther is inevitably tearful, especially after saying goodbye to absolutely everyone at the b&b before even heading out, then going through the whole thing again once at school. mariska’s proud, though, when esther flounces off through the doors, already chatting with a little boy near her. she really will be Fine.

unsurprisingly, harry tears up more than mariska even does, so she lets him cuddle josiah as they walk home from school. he then gets to ask about the conference, like mariska knows he’s probably been wanting to since last night, and lets her babble all about it as they walk. he’s always been more interested in the goings-on at the b&b than mariska would expect an outsider to be. but harry’s the best listener, regardless, and she has to admit that she’s missed morning chats with him, even if they’ve only been set back two mornings.

when they’re home, he follows her as she goes round to their back door, hesitates when mariska stops to gaze out over the lake that’s their backyard. years ago, she knew if she was ever going to own a b&b, it’d have to have a great view. she could sit here and enjoy this view for days, and god, she’d missed it. she’d missed the gentle creases in the water, the kids’ toys strewn out on their tiny beach, the hammock swinging in the breeze.

“hey,” harry says, softly calling her attention back to him. he’s still holding josiah, who’s somehow managed to get comfy on harry’s broad chest and doze off during the walk home. his huffy breaths make his whole body move up and down, and mariska nears them to run a hand down his back. this is a view she could never get tired of, either.

“you all right?” harry asks, watching her as she studies her baby. she nods absently, then shakes her head.

“i don’t know,” she admits. “i feel all out of sorts. i think it was the conference. i’d never left here before three days ago, not without the kids at least.”

“everything was completely fine while you were away,” harry reassures her. “i mean, you talked with us practically every hour, so you already knew that, but.”

“i know,” mariska agrees. “but that’s also part of what’s weird. if that makes sense?” she looks up at him with a scrunched nose. “i’m not making sense, am i?”

“sure you are,” harry murmurs. “i got you.”

he leans in a bit, and this, this–mariska has missed this. that look in his eye, that she’s never quite sure how to name, but it always gets her breath caught in her throat, and she’s powerless to do anything else but lean in as well. he gives her a simple kiss, as she stands there with her hand on josiah’s back and harry cradles him to his chest, and they’ve just dropped off esther to her first day of school, and christ. mariska is overwhelmed with emotion. but she’s Home.

 🍂🍂🍂

 soon after they get home, mariska’s right off to bring josiah to daycare so she can really start her day. at the center, the ladies are happy to see her again, but one of them looks oddly disappointed.

“so no more harry, then?” she asks mariska once josiah’s off toddling toward the cars and trucks. “shame. looked forward to seeing him every day, if you know what i mean. are you really only friends? kind of hard to believe with any guy when he looks like that.”

normally mariska would be quick to laugh off comments like that, give some quip back, but she feels all Mixed Up today. plus, she’d told harry to let taryn pick up josiah while she was gone, that he shouldn’t worry about it. mariska shouldn’t be surprised he completely took over…and to be honest, maybe she isn’t.

that’s not the end of it, either. when she gets back to the b&b to finally get her work day started and check in with mason about everything that happened in the past few days, she finds everything’s perfectly in order. in better condition than she left it, even.

“when did we repaint that wall?” she asks thoughtfully, interrupting mason’s report of the guests who came and left while mariska was away. he gives her a perturbed look but barely pauses in his tirade.

“harry did it yesterday. anyway, the harrises left on sunday–”

“was he also the one who fixed the creaky stair upstairs?” this time mason does glare, and he only nods in affirmation. “what about raking all those leaves out from under the front deck?” another nod. “what didn’t he do while i was gone?!”

“i honestly don’t know, because he also ordered new linens, cleared the path down to the lake, helped taryn take out the fall dining room deco…” he trails off. “and some other things. basically ticked off everything he could from your to-do list.”

mariska gapes incredulously for a moment. she’d only been gone two days. and she hadn’t even asked harry to do anything special in particular. he doesn’t even work for her.

“why did he do all of that?” she finally asks, still flabbergasted.

mason gives her an entirely unamused look.

“if you honestly don’t know the answer to that question, i may seriously begin to doubt your overall intelligence.”

now it’s mariska’s turn to glare. “hey now. don’t forget i’m your boss, hm?” mason only raises an eyebrow her way. “get back to work, you. i have important people to go talk to.”

“an important person, rather. right?”

“off with you!” she insists. she feels all flustered and Squiggly, again, when he stares at her a moment before going off. it’s weird, but not weird, to hear about harry doing all these things. like, she’d never have expected him to work so hard when she was gone.

but then, if she keeps thinking about it, this isn’t so out of the ordinary, is it? harry just does little things like this, all the time. helps fix things, make sure everything is right and orderly. he’s been doing so for ages, and honestly, if she’d thought about it at all before leaving for the conference, mariska would’ve known then that he’d be around 24/7 during her absence.

for whatever reason, now is just when it’s all consciously coming together for her. and her overall intelligence is perfectly in tact, so, yes. she knows what this probably means. she also knows how she should probably feel about it, but. she’s calm. it feels…right. it feels like something she’s known for a long time but just waited for the right moment to realize.

her feelings are only fortified when she does go out to seek that important person later on, and eventually finds him in the drawing room with two elderly guests. they’re familiar to mariska, having arrived a few days before her trip, and she remembers how they’d been so talkative immediately upon arriving, especially eager to ask for recommendations of activities to do and places to see.

it seems they’re asking the same thing once again, and harry’s taken out a laptop to show them some of the sites they always recommend. the couple is hanging onto his every word as he talks enthusiastically about one of mariska’s personal favorite northern michigan activities: the wine trail.

“and if you mention us at the places marked on this list,” harry finishes up, with a dimple joining in to emphasize his charm, “they may just give you an extra tasting on the house. they know us well, so.”

“oh, harry, dear,” says the woman, reaching over to squeeze his arm, “you are just the expert, aren’t you? thank you very much! we can’t wait!”

“absolutely, margie. glad to help,” he replies politely. his smile softens to something a little more private as he adds, “but i’m no expert. just been shown around and enjoyed the area with someone special. makes all the difference, y’know?”

“‘course it does,” says the man. “that’s why we’re here, isn’t it?”

mariska scurries out of the room before she’s noticed, but not without a wide grin spreading across her face. harry’s words are not only very sweet but also bring up the incredibly fond memories she has of introducing him to her beloved michigan home.

he’d been an odd, somewhat random acquaintance, in the very beginning. ethan’s company has a box suite at madison square garden back in new york, right next to the one that harry frequented. that’s how the two of them met, all those years ago. randomly both happened to be at a billy joel concert. ethan had met harry once before and somehow got around to introducing him to mariska, then later on the two of them found themselves making small talk, and that’s where it all started. when harry asked, mariska told him where she grew up and her dream of going back to start a b&b, though it was obviously only that: a Dream. she was with ethan now, living in new york, about to have a baby girl. it wasn’t in the cards for her anymore.

they kept in touch, on and off, over the years, and so then harry heard the bits and pieces of mariska’s story. the birth of baby girl, ethan’s promotion, her father’s diagnosis of cancer, her swell of desire to move home closer to him, and her eventual divorce with ethan, just after the birth of josiah.

and then, one quiet spring morning just after mariska bought a gorgeous property with an old victorian house up on old mission peninsula, none other than harry styles showed up on her doorstep.

“came to see the new place,” he said, dimpling right up. “reckoned i needed to get back to my roots for a bit, leave the city and enjoy the country air.”

mariska had been pleased speechless.

and after that, he never really left. sure, he had work trips and trips home to family. but he bought his own mansion on lake michigan, that he hardly ever spent time in, contributed more to mariska’s b&b  than basically anyone else, and became a staple in esther’s and josiah’s daily lives. he became that male figure they needed, he became the support mariska needed with the b&b, he became their Constant.

and now, for the first time, mariska truly understood why.

 🍂🍂🍂

 after her quick lunch break, mariska escapes outside to make a phone call before resuming her daily work. she goes all the way down to the dock, where it juts out over their small lake. the lily pads are creeping in again, drifting closer and closer to the clean area kids love to swim in. mariska doesn’t really mind any more this time of year, though. she thinks they’re pretty, and it’s too cold to be swimming anyway.

she stares at the lily pads, letting them calm her, before she finds ethan in her contacts and calls.

“hey,” he answers after a few rings. he already sounds distracted. “thanks for the picture earlier, sorry i couldn’t call. how was her first day?”

“well, um.” mariska always feels so out of place talking to ethan on the phone lately, and his ignorant oblivion doesn’t ever make things any easier. “i mean, it’s only one o’clock. she’s still in school, so i don’t know. it’s going well, i guess, if i haven’t heard anything.”

“oh.” ethan pauses awkwardly, making it clear he honestly hadn’t been thinking it through at all. mariska wonders if he even remembered it was esther’s first day before harry sent him the picture from mariska’s phone. “right. well, uh. good, then.”

“yeah.” mariska works to keep her heavy sigh at bay and remember the actual reason she called. “so, listen, i–”

“hey, sorry, i don’t have a ton of time? can we talk later if it’s not important?”

mariska doesn’t really contain her growl this time. he makes it so difficult to even want to be civil with him.

“this will only take a moment,” she assures him, and adds, “and it is important.”

“well…?” he says expectantly, when she pauses a moment to collect her thoughts.

“i guess, well. i just wanted to tell you about something. or someone, i guess.”

a pause, then: “it’s harry, isn’t it.”

“wh–wha–” mariska can only stammer. unthinkingly, she begins to pace up and down the small landing at the end of the dock. “how…how did you know?”

“known for a while,” ethan says simply, a little curtly. mariska wonders a bit what emotions are behind that tone, but that’s not why she called. that’s none of her business anymore. “he’s been around a lot.”

“he has,” mariska agrees. “and, yeah. he’s been around, and he means a lot to the kids. he means a lot to me too. and i think…i hope,” she corrects with a little gulp, “he feels the same. and maybe we’ll have him around even more, then.”

ethan doesn’t say anything. but she doesn’t hear the ruffle of his work papers in the background, or any murmuring voices, so mariska knows he’s listening. she has his full attention, for once. fitting, as it’s a defining moment.

“i just wanted you to know. so you know what’s going on, and that he’s gonna be a big part of esther and josie’s lives.”

“all right, well…” it takes him a prolonged moment to think of the right word. “sounds fine. good. uh, thanks for letting me know. and wish you the best, y’know.”

“yeah, thanks, ethan.”

it all is so smooth and uncomplicated that she wonders for a moment if he really understands. but of course he does; he’s not stupid. he’s actually being very kind. mariska appreciates it. she can’t say she likes much about ethan these days–she likes him far less than she ever did. but she does like this one thing, how he keeps thing uncomplicated and easy. if only everything could go so smoothly.

 🍂🍂🍂

 mariska really isn’t freaked out by this revelation of hers; at least, that’s what she tells herself. even so, she seems to unconsciously dance around harry until the end of the day arrives and she realizes she hasn’t talked to him at all. and the thought makes her want to, badly. she has Things to say, doesn’t she?

except then Other Things have to get in the way, like picking up josiah from daycare, and with harry along it takes twice as long due to the women’s chatter and flirting. then it’s off to pick up esther, be there early and waiting for her just like they promised in the morning. she comes out running with a relieved smile on her face, flinging her arms around both their legs at the same time. mariska and harry grin at each other before he hands over josiah and swings esther onto his shoulders.

then their day becomes a marathon of hearing about esther’s day and asking her a million and one questions, making and eating dinner, bathing both the kids because it’s josiah’s day anyway and esther somehow got glue all over her at some point during her first day.

and then finally the kids are down and it’s late, and mariska is Exhausted.

“you should go to sleep,” harry murmurs as the news finishes up on the tv and mariska downs the last sip of her wine. “look like you’re ‘bout to keel over any second.”

she rolls her eyes at the dramatics and glances at the baby monitor. josiah seems to be down for good, despite his fussiness lately. harry must’ve done something while mariska was away to change that. the perfect bastard.

“yeah, guess i should,” she says reluctantly. she truly is tired, and maybe that ought to be a sign, but she’s yearning to say something about her thoughts and realizations today. but. maybe it can wait.

“mm. listen to harry, he knows you.” he smirks at her softly, making to stretch out on the sofa as she slowly stands up.

“hey,” she says disapprovingly. “no more sleeping on my couch, or i know i’ll be hearing reports of a bad back soon.”

“but i’m tired too. don’t wanna mooove,” harry whines. “definitely don’t want to go all the way back to my empty house, either.”

mariska eyes him. why is he so sweet and utterly cuddly looking and the guy that she’s falling for?

jeez, There. she thought It for the first time. not so scary at all. in fact, she feels like a fifteen year old girl with a crush and butterflies in her stomach. maybe that’s why she’s dumb enough to let herself blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

“well, if you’re not gonna leave, at least come sleep in bed. much more comfortable.”

she freezes up as soon as she realizes what she’s said, and harry seems to do the same as well.

“you mean…your bed?” he says eventually. he isn’t quite meeting her gaze, and she’s not quite trying to meet his anyway.

“well, i mean. uh. if you want?” she says, cringing. “i mean, obviously you can go to any of the guest rooms if you really want. but, like, my bed is big. big enough for us both, anyway…”

they’ve done it before. once, maybe. but harry was so drunk he probably doesn’t remember. mariska does.

he’s quiet for a long time, and after a bit mariska starts to worry that she’s read the signals all wrong and taken something the opposite way and made a Huge Mistake–but then he says, “yeah, okay. let’s go to bed, then.”

and so they go to bed.

 🍂🍂🍂

 mariska wakes up slow, coming to consciousness and first realizing the warmth of her bed, the soft morning light filtering in through the window, and the slow and steady breathing of a body beside hers.

she cracks open an eye. harry. they both went to bed lying on their backs, but now he’s facing her and she’s facing him and waking up to that view–his angelic face, one curl falling over his cheek, rosy pink lips pouted in sleep–is enough to get mariska squiggly for the second morning in a row. a different sort of squiggly than yesterday, though.

she stares at him for a while, and it’s probably creepy, but she’s still half asleep, so maybe that makes it a bit more okay. and anyway, the longer she stares, the more she realizes she wants to wake up like this every morning, and then her mind can’t stop going a mile a minute, imagining what that’ll look like. she thinks it’ll be pretty amazing.

eventually her stare must get too intense because harry begins to stir and cracks open an eye on his own. when he spots her eyes on him, he smiles sleepily and burrows more into his pillow.

“morning,” he says. his morning voice is raspier than mariska’s ever heard. it feels like delicious rough honey sliding down her bones.

“morning,” she repeats. he’s so close but so far away. her hand acts of its own accord and bridges the space between them to caress his jaw, just once. harry’s eyes track her carefully, especially as he tentatively leans into the touch.

“i’m really glad you’re home,” he murmurs, rough voice catching on some of the words. “missed you when you were gone.”

“missed you too,” mariska replies, though she didn’t realize just how much until right now. “it’s good to be home.” and that home includes harry, doesn’t it. it’s not the same without him. this is his home now, and he is their home.

the thought makes mariska gulp a little but stare all the more intensely at him. harry’s features stay soft, even though he seems to catch the shift in mood, quirking his head toward hers a little.

“harry…” she starts.

his smile deepens, and his eyes contentedly fall shut a little.

“shhh,” he murmurs. nonsensically, he adds, “not yet.”

mariska taps her thumb on his jaw once to get his eyes on her again. they’re like magnets, drawing her to him. she leans in, but harry stops her soon, wrapping his hand around hers and drawing back.

“just wait,” he says, and he’s still not making sense. he gets out of bed without waiting for a response, and mariska actually pouts a little, she thinks. he glances back at her before searching for his slippers. “still some time to sleep in. i’ll come get you when breakfast is ready.”

she’s pouting even more when he disappears out the door. it didn’t feel like that was a shut down, but she is confused. and now alone in her bed, the warmth from harry’s space quickly fading.

her confusion doesn’t last long. she doesn’t realize she drifts off again until the bed dips at the corner with a small additional weight, and little girl hands start poking at her.

“wake up, mommy!”

esther’s grin is bright and manic when mariska opens her eyes.

“mmm. morning, muffin,” she says, grabbing esther around the middle and pulling her down into bed. she giggles but soon pushes away.

“come on!” she insists. she stands up in the bed and holds out her hand. “harry made a special breakfast for you.”

“special breakfast? oh my,” mariska says, a little teasingly, but only to cover up her surprise. she heaves herself up while esther crawls off the bed and pads across the room. she comes back with mariska’s silk, floral-patterned robe.

“here, wear this one,” esther says coyly. “it’s prettiest.”

“oh. so is this special breakfast something i ought to look pretty for?” mariska asks as she slips it on. now things are starting to make more sense. esther’s only answer is to grab her hand and tug her down the hall.

and there in the kitchenette, they find harry, much like yesterday. josiah’s on his hip, the smell of breakfast is in the air, but instead of esther eating her special first day of school pancakes, the pancakes are in of mariska’s seat. and as she steps closer to take a look at them, eyes flicking up to check harry’s small smile, she notices the strawberries. they spell out be mine? these are some first day pancakes of mariska’s own.

“been wanting to ask for ages,” harry says softly as mariska grips the top of her chair. “the kids helped me hatch up a plan while you were gone. didn’t want to be overwhelming your first day back, with essy’s day and all, but the little miss wouldn’t let me wait any longer than that.”

“you–you helped with this?” mariska manages to stutter through her smile, looking down at esther’s eager face.

she nods about ten times in quick succession. “yeah, mommy. what’s your answer?!”

mariska first pulls esther into a huge hug, then, shyly looking up at her boys, she lets her smile deepen.

“my answer is yes,” she says softly.

If I hadn’t been so damn cold in my shorts and blazer, I might’ve been a good friend and shown at least a little bit more sympathy. But this was the third time this had happened since before we’d left and I wasn’t willing to stand here and freeze my tits off just because he couldn’t make up his mind.

“This was a terrible idea,” he suddenly decided, moving back towards the street. “I’m gonna get a cab back to the flat. Don’t wake me up if you bring some wanker home tonight.”

I lunged forward and gripped his forearm before he could turn all the way around.

“Oh no, you don’t! Let’s just go inside. It won’t be that bad.”

“That bad? Addi, this is Liam Payne’s party. There’s probably more alcohol up there than anyone knows what to do with.”

“All the more reason. Best way to get drunk is off someone else’s booze.”

Niall still didn’t seem convinced.

“Oh, come on!” I pouted, attempting to tug him further up the sidewalk, “You promised you’d come with me.”

“I didn’t promise you anything!” he protested, holding his ground, “You practically forced me to come and I’ve got three chapters of biochem to read by Monday!”

My expression flattened. “Niall, it’s Wednesday.”

“Exactly! Term started two days ago and Hudson’s already threatening to give us a test on Friday! I’m gonna fail if I don’t focus!”

“That’s exactly why we need to go!” I insisted. “This is our last year to be irresponsible young adults and we need to enjoy yourselves while we still can!”

Niall reached up to rub at his eyebrow like I was the one being difficult, “Why can’t we enjoy ourselves on the weekend when we don’t have class the next day?”

“Because this is the first major party of the year, our last start of term party ever, and I refuse to go without my best friend.” I straightened myself up to try and maintain a bit of dignity. It crumbled when Niall rolled his eyes and tried to pull away from me.

“Please!” I begged, using what little strength I had to keep my grip on him. “It’s one night and I promise no more parties during the week.”

“Yeah, I’ll believe that,” he mumbled under his breath before letting out a sigh a running a hand back through his pushed up hair. “Alright fine, but you’re doing the laundry from now on and I expect my golf trousers to be air dried and ironed.”

I grinned triumphantly, launching myself forward and wrapping my arms around his neck, “Ah, thank you, Niall! And I swear I’ll even press them if it makes you happy.”

Both of us knew I was lying but Niall patted my back anyway, letting me slid back onto the pavement before turning to fall into step beside me as we hurried up the street towards the entrance of the apartment complex.

There were already a few people milling about outside, most of them students I didn’t recognized but just the sight of them had me absolutely buzzing with excitement.

It wasn’t often I willingly submitted myself to laundry duty but for a chance to enjoy Liam Payne’s outrageously expensive booze, I figured I could make an exception.

Liam Payne was a fourth year med student, just like Niall, and was hands down the wealthiest student at University of Westminster. He had more money sitting in his wallet than I’d probably ever seen in my cash register at work and every single dime of it was his parents – who were not so coincidently surgeons. I’d only ever spoken to Liam maybe twice since we took classes on opposite ends of the campus but he’d always struck me as the sort of bloke who got along just by his money and his outrageously good looks. Niall insisted otherwise since he had quite a few classes with him but really, I didn’t care one way or the other as long as this year’s party was better than last years.

I’d ended up passed on Niall’s bed with no memory of how I’d gotten home or where Niall actually was, and somehow I’d gotten dried vomit stained on my dress. The only thing I remembered was the dark haired, rugged boy with the leather jacket I’d unsuccessfully tried to flirt with for most of the night and the tequila shots I’d drank to try and impress him.

But this year, walking through the lobby and towards the rows of elevators with Niall by my side, I was determined it would be different. I wasn’t going to drink tequila. I wasn’t wearing one of my favorite dresses just in case I ended up puking again – though I really hoped I didn’t. And I had absolutely no plans of becoming desperate enough to coerce a bloke into coming home with me tonight.

This night was about me reveling in my last bit of freedom before I had to pretend like I was an actual adult and go looking for a real full time job and absolutely nothing was going to spoil it for me.

Expect maybe my bloody roommate.

“Alright, you may have gotten me up here but I refuse to drink anything hard tonight,” he told me as he rode up in the elevator with two younger looking girls gossiping in the corner, “I actually need to be coherent for my afternoon class tomorrow.”

Rolling my eyes, I took a hold of his arm and dragged him out of the elevator once we’d gotten to the top floor, “You always say that but you always end up drinking more than me by the end of the night.”

The front door of the flat was already open, some people lingering out in the hallway with beers or cups in their hands, and I pulled Niall right through, completely ignoring his empty threats.

“That’s not always true and this time is gonna be different! I’m serious, Addi, don’t let me get too drunk tonight.”

I didn’t have the heart to remind him that I was the last person he should be trusting to keep him sober. So instead I maneuvered us both through the packed crowd in the living room and headed straight for the kitchen.

The center granite island was literally lined with booze, rum, coke, flavored vodkas, pink champagne, the dreaded tequila, anything anyone could find at a liquor store was there for the taking. And the first thing I reached for was the open bottle of vodka and the shot glasses sitting next to the sink.

Niall physically back away from me when he saw what I was doing, “Oh no. Addi, I just told you I’m not doing anything hard – Jesus, are you pouring that straight?!”

“No,” I smirked, reaching for the already prepared lime wedges on the corner of the island and squeezing a few drops in. “They’ve got lime. And yes, you are doing this with me. I’m not ironing your ugly golf trousers if you don’t at least take one shot with me.”

“First of all,” he narrowed his blue eyes at me, “they’re not ugly. You just don’t have good taste. And second, no, I’m not.”

I held up his shot, staring at him, “I could just forget to separate your whites from your darks and leave you with pink pants.”

My flat mate literally looked like he wanted to dump the entire bottle of vodka over my head but with a defeated sigh, he reached out and took the tiny little glass from me.

“God, why did I ever decide to live with you?”

“Because you had no choice and I was the only one who actually cleans up after you. Now come on,” I grinned, holding my glass up between us, “one of these and you’ll forget about all the shit waiting for you at home.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of,” he grumbled but clinked his shot with mine anyway before tossing it back all in one gulp.

I didn’t take mine any slower. It burned on the way down my throat, causing me to scrunch my nose and shake my head in disgust at the strong flavor.

I held up the half full vodka bottle to Niall, who wasn’t fairing much better, smacking his lips and scoffing from the back of his throat.

“Another?”

He didn’t even hesitate to give his empty glass over, “Please.”

I tried to not seem smug as I filled both ours back up.

“Straight, this time?”

“Fuck it, why not?” he snarled, wipping his mouth, “If I’m going to hell at least I’m gonna enjoy it.”

“That’s the spirit.”

I handed his shot back and within three seconds, we were toasting and downing them again. This time, it came a bit smoother, less of a shock and more a tickle trickling down the back of my throat.

I pursed my lips in acceptance, setting the glass back down on the counter.

“Christ,” Niall groaned, obviously not quite as thrilled with his own second shot, “I fucking hate vodka. They got a beer round here anywhere?”

I was about to tell him last time I’d been to Liam’s place, he’d kept most of the beer stacked up in the fridge but before I could so much as open my mouth, someone was shouting my name from the other side of the open kitchen.

“Addi! There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you! What’d you do walk here?”

Tristan was the sort of girl nobody could help but notice. She was like a single ray of sunshine on an overcast day, bright, blonde and a little bit blinding if you looked directly at her for too long. I’d met her in my second year of uni when she’d taken the seat right next to me for English 201 and ever since then, I still didn’t think I’d found another person alive who could pull off a fluorescent shade of orange and still be so cheerful after five rounds of tequila shots.

Today she was almost toned down, just a simple pair of black leather pants and a red plunging tank top with her blond hair pulled up into a carefully styled bun. On any other occasion the amount of cleavage she had going for her probably would have made me self-conscious of my own lack thereof but with the mini shorts and heeled booties I’d put on before dashing out of the house, I didn’t blink twice before turning around to greet her.

“No,” I chortled, wrapping one arm briefly around her curvy waist, “Mr. I-Have-Homework over here kept changing his mind on whether he wanted to come.”

Niall rolled his eyes, bending down to rifle through the assortment of beers in the fridge.

“Oh yeah, blame it on me. You could have gone any time if you’d left me alone.”

Tristan raised her eyebrows at him. “Well, someone has an attitude this evening.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.” I smirked over at him, “See, even Tristan thinks you need to lighten up.”

“Piss off,” he grumbled, popping the cap and taking a swig. “Have you seen Louis or anyone around this place, Tristan?”

“Oh yeah!” she perked up with a happy grin, pointing out towards the living room. “I think he was out there with Danielle and a few other people trying to start a beer pong game.”

Niall looked excited for the first time since I’d come home this afternoon, “Really? They need another person?”

Tristan shrugged. “Probably. Not sure how much he’s actually playing though. He’s been all over Danielle since they got here.”

That didn’t seem to bother Niall in the slightest. He headed towards the open end of the kitchen with a slight grin, only stopping to raise his eyebrows at me curiously.

“You wanna come, Addi?”

I shook my head and holding up a bottle of rum I’d plucked off the counter, “Nope, I’m all set.”

Niall shrugged his shoulders, “Suit yourself.” And without a look back, he turned the corner and disappeared.

It took all of maybe half a second for Tristan to make a comment.

“I still can’t believe you’ve never hooked up with him,” she sighed in exasperation, still looking back towards the living room, “I mean, he’s so fit and would probably do anything for you. Why haven’t you done anything with that?”

“Because he’s Niall,” I scoffed, mixing the rum with a bit of a can of coca cola. It was probably my safest bet if I didn’t want to start the night off tripping over my own two feet.

“Yeah, so? He’s got boyfriend material written all over him.”

“Then why don’t you date him?” I took a swig of my drink and leaned against the island, “If you think he’s gonna be such a great boyfriend.”

She scrunched her small little nose and turned back with a secret little smile, “Because I’ve got my eye on someone and since this is his party, it might not look good if I’m going after anyone else.”

“Right,” I deadpanned, going for another drink, “because obviously pining after Liam for the last two years has worked out so well for you.”

She narrowed her eyes slightly at me but let it go with a shrug, reaching for a drink of her own, “Maybe not but I actually plan on getting him to talk to me tonight so who knows. But anyway, it’s you I’m worried about. When was the last time you did anything more than just have sex with someone?”

“Since before uni,” I told her truthfully.

“Exactly!” she looked pointedly at me. “And you’re too pretty and smart to be wasting your time on guys your never going see again. You need someone who’s going appreciate you.”

“Thanks mum,” I snorted, taking another gulp.

“Addi, I’m serious!” she exclaimed, turning to face with me wide eyes, “It be good for you to have a relationship with something other than your notebook. What about Harry? The one who’s always hanging out with Niall and Louis that you – “

“Okay,” I pushed myself off the counter and put a hand on her shoulder, “I think I’ve had enough lecturing for one day. How about we go see if we can find Liam so you can chat him up, yeah? I’m sure he’s around here somewhere.”

I almost sighed in relief when the concerned pinched between her eyebrows was smoothed into a giddy smile.

“I wonder if he’s still wearing the hat I saw him in earlier today on campus. I mean, it was a nice fashion statement but I’m not sure if it does anything for his bone structure.”

I shrugged with feigned interested and a hint of a smile. “Only one way to find out, isn’t there? Maybe you can tell him what you think about it.”

Tristan didn’t need much more encouragement. She downed another gulp of her drink and squared off her shoulders in determination, “Alright let’s go, then.”

And just like I’d expected, she latched onto my arm and started dragging me out of the kitchen, in the opposite direction of the noisy, packed living room behind us.

~

After finishing off my cup of rum and coke and spending the last hour sitting in the back corner of the game room with Tristan, watching Liam completely dominate his mates in pool, I decided it was time to find Niall.

As much as I adored Tristan and her bubbly nature, there were only so many times I could hear the words Liam and wonderful in the same sentence before I needed a break. I mean, don’t get me wrong, he’s good looking and all, but fawning over the way his biceps bulged in his button up wasn’t exactly how I’d pictured enjoying my night.

I slipped out without Tristan really noticing and made a beeline back to the kitchen. There were a few students grabbing some beers from the fridge but I ignored them in favor of getting myself another drink. This time, I went for another shot of vodka and mixed it with a bit of Dr. Pepper to keep it toned down.

I was decently buzzed, just enough to put a bit of zing in my step and I wanted to keep it that way. It was still early, barely past eleven if the clock in Liam’s kitchen was right, and it needed to be at least past midnight before I really considered chucking back another couple shots.

With that in mind and a full in drink in hand, I wandered towards the living room, figuring it was the most likely place to find my flat mate. It was more crowded than the game room had been, people squished up together on couches and clustered up in corners with barely enough room to walk without worrying about bumping into someone.

It was in the thicket of the noise and the chaos that I found Niall. His blonde head was obvious on the far side of the beer pong table with a ball poised in his hand and a bloke with shoulder length brown hair I thought I recognized standing beside him conversing with someone else. I’d just shoved my way through the wall of students surrounding the table when he bounced the ball and it landed with a plunk in one of Louis’ beer cups. The cheers were almost as deafening as the music.

“Niall!” I shouted, once the noise had died down and Louis had finished chugging his cup of beer.

“Addi!” He beamed, arms wide open with hint of red coating his cheeks. “I was wondering where you got off to.”

At the sound of my name, the girl standing next to him flipped around to face the pair of us and it wasn’t until I looked up and a saw pair of green eyes staring back at me, that I realized, just who the bloke actually was.

I sucked in a sharp breath, averting my eyes immediately back to Niall, “Oh, I was just uh, in the game room with Tristan.”

“So she talked your ear off, then?” Niall asked, focusing across the table at Louis now taking his shot.

“Something like that,” I muttered, not able to help stealing another quick glance at the person standing a few feet from me.

Harry Styles looked much the same as I’d seen him at the end of last term. His shirt was still a ridiculous over the top pattern and half buttoned, exposing the tattoos at the top of his chest. He still wore the same pair of black skinny jeans, maybe just a size tighter, with a pair of suede heeled boots to match and his mouth was still set into a completive line that turned down at the corners. The only thing that was even remotely different was his hair. Instead of brushing the tops of his collarbones, his curls now feel loosely over his shoulders and framed his face.

It was the reason I hadn’t been able to recognize him with his back to me because I was sure if I’d had, I wouldn’t have come over here in the first place.

And he seemed almost as pleased as I was that I’d made that mistake.

His eyes darkened ever so slightly, offering me a kind but tense smile as he tapped his ringed finger rhythmically over his own cup. It was only after Louis had tossed his ball and completely missed, nearly nailing a poor girl in the head that either of us were able to look away.

“Yes!” Niall threw his arms up in exclamation. “I win again, Lou! You’re never gonna beat me!”

Louis flipped him the bird, “It’s not even fair! You play golf and know how to aim!”

“Golf is with a club, you knob.” Niall scoffed, “You’ve just got shit aim when you’re drunk.”

I couldn’t exactly deny that. I think the girl he’d almost hit was now cowering on one of the couches.

“Then why don’t you come play teams with me, then? Even it out a bit,” Louis bargained.

“And play against who?” Niall leaned forward to press his palms against the table. “I think Zayn’s more worried about how far he can get his tongue down his bird’s throat.”

For half a second Louis seemed like he was genuinely stumped. He glanced around the room, his brows furrowed in concentration trying to find anyone who might be up for a challenge and it wasn’t until he landed on me that they widened with obvious excitement.

“Oh no,” I protested before he could say anything, “Louis, no I’m not playing. You know I hate beer.”

“Oh come on!” he whined from across the table, “You can play with Harry! He’s just as shit as I am and you’re a bloody pro.”

I stole a glance sideways at Harry. He was staring down at his cup, his lips pursed and I figured I was only doing both of us a favor.

“Find someone else, Lou,” I insisted, “I don’t wanna play.”

“Jesus, come on, Addi,” Niall nudged my arm with a heavy frown, “You dragged me all the way here. The least you can do is play with us.”

“Okay, no,” I turned to point a finger at him, “that was not part of the deal. And stop trying to guilt me into this! Just because I’m good doesn’t mean I want – “

“I’ll do it.”

His deep voice had me stopping mid-sentence, snapping my head away from Niall to stare at him, “You will?”

Harry shrugged and set his cup down on the edge of the table, “I mean, only if you want to. I don’t wanna make you.”

Niall certainly didn’t need any more persuasion.

“Fantastic, it’s settled then.” He picked up his cup and started rounding the edge of the table while I stood there staring at Harry with my mouth still half open, “First one to drink all their cups loses and has to make a fry-up in the morning.”

“What, no!” I rounded on him, coming out of my daze, “It’s not settled! I never agreed to this! You know I’m rubbish at cooking.”

He shrugged, completely unaffected. “Guess you better win then, yeah?”

“Niall!” I groaned but he ignored me, practically skipping down the length of the table for a triumphant high five from Louis.

He was seriously making me regret the hour I’d spent begging him to come with me.

Flipping back around, I shoved a hand through my unruly mane of flaming hair and snarled, reaching for the pile of cups on the edge of the table.

“One of these days I’m going to take one of his precious medical textbooks and stick it up his ass.”

I heard Harry snort as I situated the red cups into a perfect triangle but he quickly caught himself and tried to cover it by clearing his throat.

“You didn’t have to do it, you know.”

I flickered my eyes up to find him holding the can of opened beer. He was staring at me, his eyes just as piercing and dark as before, and for a delusional second I wonder if he was still talking about the game.

“It’s fine.” I took the can from him and sloshed some in the bottoms of the cups. “I’d never hear the end of it anyway and then I’d definitely have to make his hungover ass breakfast in the morning.”

Harry nodded, pushing the front of his curls away from his face, “Alright, then. But if you really don’t wanna drink, I won’t make you.”

I was tempted to remind him of the actual rules of beer pong but the way he was still looking at me had me pausing the can over the last cup.

“Oh yeah and how I am gonna get it past those two?”

He jerked his head down toward something on the floor, a decent sized bin by the edge of the table. He nudged it with the side of his boot and drug it between the two of us.

“Just toss it when they’re not looking. S’what I’m gonna do.”

I rose an eyebrow, setting the empty can aside, “You’re not gonna drink?”

“Nope,” Harry shook his head. “Not if I can help it.”

My gaze switched back and forth between the drink still sitting on the edge of his side of the table and the unreadable, serious expression on his face.

I wondered why the guy I’d personally watched chuck back three separate shots of tequila a few months ago would suddenly think he was too good for a bit of piss poor beer but then I decided I didn’t care if it meant I  didn’t have to drink any of that piss poor beer.

“Alright.” I shrugged one shoulder to my ear. “But if we get caught I’m telling Niall it was all your idea.”

Harry managed to crack a faint smile, reaching for a drink of whatever was in that cup of his.

“Fair enough.”

“Hey, lovebirds! We gonna play or not?”

I should seriously reconsider messing with Niall’s textbooks. It might almost be worth it just to see the look on his face when he found them “accidently” chucked off the balcony of our flat.

“Yeah, we’re gonna play, you shit,” I rolled my eyes and turned to face Niall and Louis at the other end of the long dining table. “Who’s going first?”

Louis held up his hand in a fist, wiggling his eyebrows. “Winner chooses?”

“Yeah, alright,” I sighed and brought up my own right hand, “One, two, three, shoot!”

Louis first play was paper, not exactly the wisest choice considering I’d gone for scissors.

A smirk tugged at the corners of my lips, “Sorry, mate.”

Louis huffed and leaned back from the table, “Yeah, yeah just go so we can kick your arses already.”

I picked up one of the ping pong balls, weighing it carefully in my hand. It was a little heavier than I was used to but that didn’t mean I couldn’t make it work.

Eyeing the farthest cup on Niall’s right, I flicked my wrist and let it fly. It bounced hard off the middle of the table before plopping cleanly in the center of the cup. Niall’s groan of dismay when some of the liquid splattered on his jeans was immensely satisfying.

“Your side, Ny,” I grinned at him, “means you drink first.”

Niall frowned up at me, plucking out the ball from his drink, “I know the rules, Addi. Lucky first shot.”

“Whatever you say,” I shrugged, “Bottoms up.”

He drank the bit of it in one gulp, slamming the cup down and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before picking up a ball of his own.

“Coming for you, Addi.”

I figured as much but I just waited with my eyebrows cocked as he took aim. It was hard not to pout when it landed two cups back from the middle.

“Ha!”

Niall reached up to slap hands with Louis and smirk across at me. “One for me, then. Go on.”

I glanced sideways at Harry as I wrapped my fingers around the cup. He just nodded once, keeping his eye forwards and toying with one of his balls.

“Just one shot, mate,” he called, though not loudly. “Doesn’t mean you’ve won the game yet.”

“Oh, yeah?” Niall taunted, both him and Louis switching their attention to my partner. “Last time you played this, Styles, you almost gave Zayn a black eye. Don’t think you’re gonna help her much.”

I took the opportunity to pretend to toss the beer back and dumped it quickly underneath my elbow before either of them could notice.

Harry seemed unbothered, “You never know, maybe I’ve practiced since then.”

If we had any chance of winning this game, I sure hoped he had, but I kept my expectations low and my mouth shut, considering he’d just kept me from drinking the alcoholic equivalent of piss.

“Yeah, right,” Louis huffed and waved his hand, “Take your shot, will ya?”

Whatever urgency our friends had, Harry didn’t seem to possess any of it. He took his sweet time, angling the ball in front of his face and switching back and forth between different cups while his fingers pinched at his bottom lip.

I couldn’t help but watch him, remembering the last time I’d been this close to him. How soft and pliable his curls had felt between my fingers and the taste of whiskey and mint that lingered on his lips. It had me chewing on the inside of my cheek and I was about ready to shout at him just to throw before he tossed the ball and it flew straight into the middle cup without hitting the table.

It took me a few seconds to register that’s what the cheering around us was for.

“What the hell, mate!” Louis shouted, throwing his hands up. “That’s not fair!”

Harry looked rather smug, taking another sip of his mysterious drink, “Told you I practiced.”

“That had to be luck!” Niall shot back as Louis chugged down his portion of beer. “No way, you can do that again.”

He didn’t dignify them with a real retort, just shrugging his shoulders past the ends of his hair and cocking his head over to glance at me. “You never know.”

“Yeah,” I trailed off, unable to look away. “Guess not.”

Expect that I did. Everyone did.

Harry was as shit at beer pong as he’d ever been, with a few rare exceptions where he repeated his miraculous no bounce shots that were – just like Niall had pointed out – clearly out of sheer luck. Balls flew everywhere, over our opponents heads, clear across the other side of the living room into someone else’s half-full vodka; one of them even ricocheted off the rim of one of Niall’s cups and ended up nailing Zayn’s bird in the back of the head just as he was going in for another kiss – I thought he deserved a point for that one but both Louis and Niall shot me down.

The only thing we had going for us was that Louis was just as terrible, if not more so. Between the two of them, the whole living room was set for their in house entertainment and it was down to Niall and I to give the game a bit of dignity.

I should have taken it seriously. The last thing I wanted to do was wake up tomorrow morning before my midmorning class and burn myself trying to fry Niall up some eggs and sausage with a hangover. But the longer the game went on, the more distracted I seemed to get.

I wanted to blame it on the vodka and the rum – because why else would I have tossed it off the side of the table three feet from any of the cups – but I knew, somewhere very far in the back of my head, that it had much more to do with standing shoulder to shoulder with Harry.

I’d been close to him dozens of times at different parties but I’d never noticed just how fidgety and awkward he could be. He never seemed to stop moving. His hand would run back through his hair if it flopped too far to one side. He’d always be tapping his fingers on the side of his cup and shifting from one foot to the other with his lip still between his fingers when it wasn’t his turn. He even aimed so far left during one of his turns that we ended up hip to hip and I could practically feel the heat radiating off his body as he threw and missed one of the cups by half an inch.

It got to point after Niall dunked one into one of our last two remaining cups and Harry dodged my way to avoid the splash that I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Harry,” I asked, watching him sneakily pour the remains of the beer into the bin like we’d been doing all game as the “dynamic duo” shared another victory dance. “Why aren’t you drinking?”

He looked down at me, surprised, discarding the cup, “Oh um, I’ve got a class tomorrow at nine and I didn’t really wanna miss anything because of a hangover.”

“So what’s that cup over there filled with?” I inclined my head to his side of the table, “Water?”

Harry chortled, uneasily. “No, uh, actually it’s coke.”

“Just coke?”

“Just coke,” he repeated.

We stared at each other for a long second, his tongue darting out between his lips as he messed with the cross hanging around his neck. He almost looked like he wanted to say something else, his mouth falling open ever so slightly but before he could get a word out, Niall was shouting back across the table.

“Harry! Harold Styles! Are you gonna take your fucking shot or what?”

If I wasn’t the one who’d have to deal with him in the morning, I would have gladly spiked one of the last cups of beer with another two shots of tequila.

Harry snapped out of his daze and shoved his hand back through his hair before turning towards the table.

“Yeah, mate. Didn’t know you were so eager to get beaten.”

“Fat chance!” Niall snorted. “You’re never gonna make either of these and you’ve only got one cup left!”

As much as I hated to admit it, Niall was right. Him and Louis still had two cups standing, both sitting in the middle of their side of the table, while Harry and I only had one between the both of us, thanks to his poor aim and my unfortunate distraction.

The only way we had a chance to win this game was if he made this shot, Louis missed and I pulled myself together and tossed it into the last one. Because if either Harry or I missed and it came back around to Niall, we were doomed and he would never let me live it down.

“Just keep your eye on the cup,” I muttered just loud enough under my breath to Harry.

His glanced sideways at me curiously, the ball already poised in his hand.

“You do better when you don’t watch the ball,” I clarified, “and if you make this we might be able to win.”

I wasn’t sure why I was so eager to try and help him because really this was just a bloody game but I felt an odd sense of anxiousness watching him nod and hold the ball up to shoot.

It didn’t take him as long this time around, just enough time to focus in on one of the remaining cups and position the ball before tossing it with enough force to get it across the table.

My chest nearly gave out when it plunked down into the right cup.

“Holy shit,” I breathed, staring wide eyed as the crowd erupted over the loud music.

Niall and Louis were almost too stunned to speak and Harry was so satisfied I thought his proud smirk might actually split his face.

“Jesus Christ,” I heard Niall swear, immediately rounding on Louis. “You’ve gotta get this mate. I’m not getting up to make no fucking breakfast. And I’m calling you at half six if I do.”

“Calm down,” Louis waved him off, suddenly much more confident than he’d been just a few moments ago, “Just let me do what I do best.”

Nailing poor innocent freshman in the head and nearly giving them a concussion at their first college party?

Okay, go for it, Tomlinson.

His last attempt wasn’t quite that extreme but it still ended up about a foot over Harry’s head after bouncing off the corner of the table and I couldn’t help the grin that curled at the corners of my lips.

“So, Niall, you know I like my English with extra sausage, right?”

Louis looked far too pleased for being about to lose a game, “Extra sausage? Is there something you wanna tell us – “

“Shut it,” Niall silenced him with a hand, narrowing his eyes at me. “You won’t make this, Addi. You crack under pressure.”

I shrugged, picking up a ball and rolling it around in my hand.

“Guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

I could feel the eyes of almost everyone else in room as I leaned forward and gripped the edge of the table for my shot. The living room was almost absolutely silent apart from a few murmurs here and there, and the loud base techno music coming through the speakers. But for some reason, the only eyes I was really aware of were Harry’s.

He was pivoted around to face me, his hip squished against the edge of the table and his lip now back between his fingers. I was hyper aware of just how close he was and had to tear myself away before I could focus enough to make the shot.

I held my breath when I let it go, watching it hit off the wood and veer just enough to the left to land dead center in the cup.

My roommate’s jaw went slack as the entire room burst into an uproar and I was so elated and caught up in it all that, without thinking about what I was doing, I threw myself at Harry’s tall form and flung my arms around his neck.

“Oh my god!” I exclaimed. “I can’t believe we actually did it!”

It took about three seconds of feeling Harry’s body stiffen under my touch for me to realize what was actually happening.

“Oh shit,” I breathed, pulling myself off of him and backing away three or four steps. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that…”

“No, uh,” Harry chuckled, shoving his hair away from his face, “it’s cool. We actually won. I didn’t think we would. You’re a really good shot.”

“Thanks.” I tried to cover the heat on my cheeks by nibbling on my bottom lip. “You’re not so bad yourself.

He raised both his eyebrows. “Really?”

“Okay, no,” I rolled my eyes with a sigh. “But you made that last shot and saved me from probably burning down my flat tomorrow, so thanks for that.”

Harry managed an amused smile. “You’re welcome, then. It was a good game.”

“Yeah,” I grinned back at him, “It was.”

~

Over the last three years, most of my terrible choices have been made under the influence of tequila.

Like the time I thought it would be a good idea to challenge Niall to a drink off and ended up puking in the back of the taxi on the way home. Or when I assumed the best way to deal with a piss pour grade on one my term papers was to take Jeremey Remes home with me and completely forgot my mum was driving down to see me the next morning.

Every time I told myself – or somebody else did - that it was safe enough to have more than a single shot of tequila, nine times out of ten it usually ended up spirally out of control and I was left to deal with the inevitable consequences the next morning.

But the worst had to have been at the beginning of the summer when Louis decided to throw a party at his parent’s house in Primrose Hill.

Really, I wasn’t supposed to go. I had to be up early the next morning for a two hour train ride to Manchester and showing up at my parent’s house tired and hungover from the night before when she’d already caught me with a stranger in my bed, probably wasn’t the ideal way to kick off my summer break. But after a month of basically drilling a hole in my own head to prepare for final exams and too many weekends spent holed up in our flat, it seemed like a complete and utter shame to waste the last one I’d have for the next three months.

That was my first mistake.

The second was letting Niall convince me to partner up with Harry for truth or dare.

At the start, it wasn’t that big of a deal. I didn’t know Harry all that well, considering he’d only just transferred from a school across London in the spring semester, but we were used to this already. Harry and I were the only two members of our friend group who weren’t either already attached or always in search of someone to warm our beds for the night, so, naturally, we usually got paired together for games during parties. And when I thought about it, he was probably the only person I trusted to be sane enough to help keep from embarrassing myself in front of a room full of people I’d have to face on campus the next morning. So really, I almost considered myself lucky.

That is until the same moronic idiot who put us together in the first place thought it would absolutely “crackin” – his word, not mine – to dare the two of us do a body shot off one another.

I was all for it, never one to turn down a challenge my roommate handed out to me even if it was fucking bonkers. But Harry was already reaching for his cup to drink and looked moderately horrified when I took it out of his hands and told him to go get some tequila from the kitchen.

My third mistake was not listening to him when he tried to reason with me. Because thirty minutes later, after letting him lick salt off my stomach and taking another three tequila shots, all I could think about while sitting next to him alone – or as alone as two people can be at a college party – was how soft his lips had been when they accidently brushed mine, taking the lime from my mouth.

I shouldn’t have done it. There were about a hundred different perfectly logical reasons why it was an absolutely terrible idea. But with that much tequila running through my veins, I didn’t remember any of them. All I cared about when I reached over to run a hand through his curls, was that maybe if I felt those pink, soft lips again, I might be able to forget that I only had a year left to figure out what to do with my life and no idea where to start.

I still can’t remember how long we were at it for, my body completely straddling Harry’s lap in the middle of that lounge room as he ran his hands up the tops of my thighs under my dress and kissed me until our lips were tender and swollen. At one point, I was almost positive I was going home with him, but when I suddenly remembered in the middle of listening to his raspy, low voice murmuring in my ear, that even a night of rolling around in the sheets couldn’t fix the mess I was sure I’d already made of my career, the guilt was almost too much to handle.

I wasn’t the type of person who used someone and Harry, the boy who just happened to be there, didn’t deserve to deal with me at my worst, just because I was too cowardly to sort my life out.

I used the excuse of getting us both more drinks to get away from him. But when I ducked into the kitchen and double checked that he couldn’t see me, I made a bee-line for the front without even thinking to look for any of my other friends.

Nobody had batted an eyelash when I called to apologize the next morning after getting on the train but it was the person I hadn’t bothered to ask that stayed with me for most of the ride back home.

I tried to tell myself maybe that was the reason I hadn’t gone to refill my drink after the beer pong game but I knew it wasn’t.

“Oh for fucks sake!” Louis swore, slapping his hand against his thigh. “I just drank! Why you making me do it again!?”

Niall smirked at him from across the table, setting the two of clubs down beside him. “Because if it wasn’t for you and your shitty aim, I’d be getting a full English tomorrow.”

“It’s not my fault Harry got in a lucky shot!” he protested.

“Doesn’t matter,” Niall shrugged, nodding towards his friend’s half full cup. “Drink.”

Louis rolled his eyes and tipped back his drink, wincing at the acrid taste before slamming it back down on the living room table.

“Alright, Zayn go,” he fell back into the couch cushions, “and if you get a fucking two I’m gonna dump this over our head if you even think about giving it to me.”

Zayn snickered from beside his girlfriend, reaching forward to grab a random face down card circling the giant glass in the middle.

I had to resist the urge to roll my eyes when he grinned to himself and slowly pressed his thumb against the edge of the table. Harry and I were the first two to notice and place down our own and judging by the drunken and oblivious state of the mates around us, it was gonna be awhile before anyone else caught on.

I wasn’t sure why I’d even decided to play. King’s Cup was probably one of my least favorite drinking games – mostly because I somehow always ended up drawing that last king and had to poison myself with whatever concoction was in the middle cup, and without an actual drink to play with, technically I wasn’t even abiding by the rules. But when Niall suggested it and absolutely insisted I had to join for a rematch of the “unfair” beer pong game, I didn’t have much of choose other than to squish in next to Harry on the smaller sofa with my empty cup of Dr. Pepper and vodka.

We were so close that I could feel the muscles flexing in his thigh as he sighed and drummed his fingers over his knee cap, waiting for the rest of the group to put their thumbs on the table. He hadn’t said more than a few words since we’d sat down to play about half an hour ago but I could tell just by the way he kept pushing his curls away from his face and pulling at his lip, that he didn’t exactly have the patience for this either.

Good. At least then, I wasn’t suffering through this alone.

“Ha, Tristan!” Louis pointed across the table, once he’d quickly set his thumb down and looked around to see if anyone was still left. “Drink! You’re the last one!”

“Drink?” she scrunched her nose, “Why do I have to drink? Zayn hasn’t even told us what he got yet.”

Liam, who she’d somehow persuaded to join us, snorted from beside her. “That’s kind of the point, love. He drew a five. He’s not supposed to tell anyone, remember?”

“Oh,” Tristan’s face fell in comprehension before she shrugged and grabbed for her drink. “Whatever, then. I’ve always hated that card anyway. What’s the point of putting your thumb on the table?”

“Don’t know, don’t care,” Louis brushed off, “Just drink.”

Tristan stuck her tongue at him, sipping on what was left of her cranberry vodka.

Zayn’s girlfriend, Janell, who I’d only heard speak a handful of times, didn’t wait for Tristan to finish before picking up the next card. Her slender face went sour as she flipped it around for the group to see.

It was a four of spades.

“Sorry, girls. I’m kinda shit at this.”

“Aw, babe, no you’re not,” Zayn teased, nudging her side, “That was a great card.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, tipping her cup back as the rest of the girls followed suit and drank.

Well, I pretended to drink.

“Do me a favor and draw a six for me, will ya, Adriana? I think the boys deserve it.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” I smirked, bending forward to grab for a random card.

I plucked one up from the sparse side of the toxic cup, hoping for that six or maybe even a two just so I could make Niall suffer that much more, but was disappointed when I turned it over to find an eight of hearts.

I twisted my mouth into a slight purse.

Great.

“What’d ya get?” Niall probed directly across from me. “You girls gotta drink again?”

“No,” I flipped it around for everyone to see. “But someone’s gonna have to every time I do.”

“Oh, an eight!” Tristian clapped her hands together. “Who you gonna pick, Addi? Please don’t pick me. I don’t think I could handle drinking double.”

Louis smirked and threw an arm over the back of his girlfriend’s shoulders. “I think we all know who Addi’s gonna go for. Niall, I’d go get another drink if I were you. That might not be enough.”

“Oh piss off, Lou,” I shot him a dirty snarl. “I could pick you and make Danielle have to carry you back to the flat tonight.”

He didn’t seem phased, shrugging as he waited with the rest of them for me to make my decision.

As much as I despised Louis’ meddling in our friendship, Niall was a legitimate option. He’d made us an half an hour late trying to drag him here with me. He’d forced me into a beer pong game and a bet that I’d nearly almost lost and he wasn’t near sloshed enough yet to make up for any of it. In my perfectly sober opinion, it was my right to take a little bit of payback but the fact that my cup was completely empty had me drumming my fingers over my bare knee.

If I forced Niall to drink every time I “drank” there was a very high possibility he’d be paying too much attention and realize I wasn’t actually drinking at all. And the torment he’d put me through for the next month wasn’t worth it just to see Niall puking up his guts in the morning while trying to make me breakfast.

I needed someone who wouldn’t care one way or another and the only person in the entire room who fit that description was sitting right next to me.

I knew what it would look like, especially to Harry himself, but I really didn’t see any other choice. He already knew I wasn’t drinking, just by the curious raise of his eyebrows every time I lifted my cup, and it wasn’t like this coke was mixed with anything other than his own backwash. We both needed to stay under the radar of our friends and the best way I could think to do that was band together and keep them out of it all together.

I just hoped one victory at a measly beer pong game was enough to keep him getting up and leaving.

“Sorry, Harry.” I nudged his side with my elbow and tossed the card aside, “Looks you’re suffering with me.”

The stunned silence was almost laughable and I could’ve sworn I’d seen Niall looking practically wounded out of the corner of my eye.

“Wait, me?” Harry snapped his head around to stare at me. “You want me to drink with you?”

I snorted and reached for my empty cup. “Yeah, that’s kind of how an eight works. That alright with you?”

He paused for a second, looking at me curiously before shrugging his shoulders and pushing a hand back through his unruly, long hair. “Yeah, alright. Cheers, then.”

He picked up his cup and raised it slightly, tipping it back just enough to get a gulp. I followed suit, making a point to swallow as I sucked nothing but air through my lips and set it back down on the side table out of sight.

“Yeah, whatever then,” Niall tossed off rather impatiently. “Your turn, Harry, get on with it.”

I was confused by his sudden mood change. He’d been all about this all of two minute ago but I hardly had time to dwell on it, noticing the not so subtle smirk on Tristan’s face as Harry drew his card.

I didn’t even wanna know.

“A ten,” he switched it in his fingers around the circles. “Means I get pick to a category, yeah?”

“Yup,” Zayn nodded at him with a tiny grin. “Anything you want. Make it good, mate.”

Harry thought for a long moment, picking at his bottom lip before nodding once, “Rolling Stones songs.”

The groan from all the men was collective. Louis even went as far as to cover his face with both hands like he was in actual pain.

“Really!? You could’ve picked anything and you pick an old man band? What a waste of opportunity.”

Harry lifted one shoulder and curled up a corner of his mouth, “You didn’t draw it, mate. Go on, Liam.”

Surprisingly, Liam was ready with an answer – or more specifically my answer.

“Beast of Burden.”

It took Tristan just a bit longer, her lips twisting in thought.

“Satisfaction!”

God dammit.

“God fine, alright,” Louis sighed, dramatically, “Start Me Up.”

“Paint It Black.”

Mother fucker.

“Wild Horses.”

Niall looked particularly smug about his answer, probably because he knew it was one of my favorite Rolling Stones songs. Or maybe by the way he was side-eyeing Harry, it was something else. Who the hell knows.

All I knew was that I needed to come up with a song and fast.

“Brown Sugar is one of them, ain’t it?” Zayn glanced over at Harry, who nodded in approval.

If his girlfriend took my song and I was left with nothing, I swear to God.

She bit at her lip, looking around like she was in trouble.

“I know one. I just can’t remember exactly what the name is. You can’t always get things how you want or you can’t have things how you want…”

I slouched forward with an audible sigh of relief as Harry shook his head with a chuckle.

“Nope, sorry. It’s You Can’t Always Get What You Want. Nice try, though.”

She scrunched her nose and went for a long drink, slumping back against the small seat she and Zayn shared.

“Knew I should have listened when my dad forced me to listen to the oldies when I was little.”

Harry chortled and nodded, leaning forward to place his elbows on his knees as he waited for Liam to draw.

He ended up with the six I’d so desperately wanted and Louis threatened to dump the rest of his beer over the head of whoever drew the next one. I had to fight an amused smirk as the rest of the boys, threw one back, apart from Harry: I was sure just by the eye roll his girlfriend was giving him that if Louis even tried to soak any of the girls in beer he’d be nursing his awful hangover in the morning alone.

Tristan was the last one left on our couch to go for this round. She took her sweet time, fixing a piece of hair that fell loose from her bun before inclining forward and running her fingers over the loop of cards.

I was about to flop into the couch cushions with a long sigh and take a nap when she suddenly burst into gleeful giggles and started stamping her heeled feet on the carpet.

“I’ve got a King! I knew I picked the best one!”

Oh, god.

“God, dammit!” Louis swore, slapping his knee. “I was literally just going to pick that fucking card.”

Tristan tittered triumphantly. “Too bad, Lou. You snooze, you loose.”

“And you’ve probably got some ridiculous fruity shit in that drink, don’t you? Like orange juice and champagne or some shit,” he complained as she poured the remainder of her cup into the bigger glass in the center of the table.

Actually, I knew for a fact it was cranberry juice and vodka but I was less concerned with what was going into the King’s Cup and more concerned with the obnoxiously large smile plastered on her face.

In the original rules of King’s Cup, the person who draws the king gets to set a rule for the entire group to follow for the rest of the game and whoever forgets or refuses the rule has to drink. But for our version of the game, or rather Niall’s – thanks for that - instead of choosing a collective rule, the player gets to make one request of someone else in the group. It can be absolutely anything but whoever they choose has to do it or they have to drink, just like the rest of the game.

Tristian by nature was not a cruel person, most of her requests or dares usually involved something silly and fun as opposed to anything embarrassing like hacking a twitter account. But something about the glint her eye as she tapped at her chin with her fingernails had me shrinking down in my seat, in an attempt to hide behind Harry’s tall body to keep her from seeing me.

It didn’t work.

“I know exactly what I want one you to do!” she sang, looking all the way around Liam to find me slouching back against the couch. She beamed brightly, like she was giving me a present. “Addi, I want you to kiss, Harry! And not just a little one either. It has to be for at least thirty seconds.”

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

I groaned and shoved myself up. “Tristan, come on! That’s not fair!”

“Oh, yes it is!” she insisted, “I drew the king so I get to make a request. And it’s not like you haven’t done it before. I mean, last summer you had your tongue down his throat.”

Niall nearly fell out of his seat. “What?! Addi, when did you make out with Harry?!”

Oh, fuck me.

“Whoa, whoa!” Louis put his hand up to be heard. “Why did no one tell me about this?! Here I was thinking she was fucking around with – “

“Alright, fine!” I blurted, throwing my arms up “Yes, I made out with Harry at the end of last year. Can we all move on, please?”

“No!” Niall pinched his brows together. “You need to tell me these things! It’s flatmate rules!”

My expression fell flat as I turned to look at him.

“No, it’s not. And no, I don’t have to tell you about every person I decided to make out with. Just like I don’t wanna know the color of the knicker’s of the last girl you had in your room.”

A rush of red colored Niall’s pale cheeks, his lips smacking together in a hard line. “Whatever. You do what you want, then.”

I felt bad for using something we’d joked about privately against him, but if it’s what it took to get him off my back about this, then I wasn’t going to spend too much time dwelling on it, knowing he’d forgive me easily later.

Apparently, neither was Tristan.

“So,” she was bouncing in anticipation, “Are you gonna kiss him or are you gonna drink?”

Sighing, I turned to look at Harry. Almost his entire body seemed to have gone rigid, his thigh stiff against mine and hand frozen over his lip. The only part of him that was remotely expressive were his eyes. They were focused on me, a dark shade of green as they flickered back and forth over my face.

I knew what he was thinking, because it was exactly what I thinking.

The last time we’d done this, both of us were drunk enough to only remember bits and piece of it in the morning. It’d been a complete impulse and it ended with me leaving him high, dry and probably hard without any sort of explanation. This time we were sober, or at least he was and I was more sober than I’d been on six tequila shots, in front of our friends who would never let us forget and more likely to remember it in the morning.

I was about to just deal with it and take my fake drink. Really, it didn’t matter what our friends read into it or how much shit I’d get for it later from Niall. Neither of us were getting any drunker and I’d rather not screw up the little I’d managed to salvage from the summer before between Harry and I – if I had at all.

But when I caught Harry dropping his hand from his lip and shrugging his shoulders with an indifferent raise of his eyebrows, I decided if I was going to ruin everything I might as well do it in classic Adriana fashion and do it all at once.

“Fuck it.”

Without really thinking about what I was doing, I cupped my hand around the back of his head and pulled Harry into me for a kiss.

He seemed shocked at first, his lips hard and unresponsive but after a second of tangling my fingers through his long curls, his lips softened and started working gently against mine. They were just like I remembered them, full, pliable and with a hint of mint I’d never be able to get rid of, and for some reason I couldn’t fathom, just like before, I wanted more of them.

I had to make myself pull away, slipping my hand out of his hair and onto his shoulder, because I knew, for the sake of us both, I couldn’t let this go any farther. But when I tried to back off, I felt Harry’s hand slip around my waist, his fingers widening over the expanse of my lower back as he parted his lips and pressed me closer to him.

My hand stiffened over his shoulder, my breath getting caught in the back of my throat. I wasn’t sure what he was doing or if I even wanted him to do it, but just feeling his tongue dart out and run over my bottom lip had me sighing and wrapping my hand back around his neck.

He deepened the kiss once he felt me relax. His lips kneaded more urgently, getting me to open my mouth so he could nibble on my bottom lip and for a glorious thirty seconds that was the only thing I was aware of. The press of his fingers into the dips of my spine, the way his curls felt between my fingers and the needy softness of his lips.

It wasn’t until I heard the cheering that I remember exactly where we were.

I pulled back more forcefully this time, detaching us from the kiss and pushing myself off his chest to sit upright on the couch. I licked my lips, trying to rid myself of the taste of him and bring myself out the daze as I noticed the people grinning around us. But even after a few prolonged seconds, I couldn’t get rid of the mint still lingering on my tongue.

“I’m going to get another drink,” I suddenly announced, shoving off of the couch and to my feet.

“Wait!” Niall exclaimed, a frown pulling down the corners of his mouth. “Where are you going? The game’s not finished! We’ve still got another king left.”

I let my shoulders touch my ears and slipped out from between the couches. “I’ll be back in a minute. Can’t really play with an empty drink, can I?”

I tipped the top of my cup upside down but before anyone could say anything, I turned on my heel and headed back towards the kitchen.

I wasn’t lying when I said I needed a drink. My real intention was to actually find something strong enough to dose the poignant flavors in my mouth. I was even considering breaking my own rule and pouring myself a straight shot of tequila but when I rounded the corner and stepped into the empty kitchen, I heard boots clunking on the linoleum behind me.

With a hefty sigh, I avoided the heavily raided bar and veered off towards the fridge on the other side of the open room.

I caught Harry leaning up against the island with his arms crossed over his chest as I reached for one of the water bottles on a top shelf. He stayed silent, watching me twist the cap off and lift it to my lips before one side of his mouth quirked.

“You’re not going back out there, are you?”

I finished chugging around a quarter of the bottle and whipped my mouth before answering him.

“What gave it away?”

“Well, last time you kissed me, you said you were going for a drink and never came back. I assumed it was just a habit.”

Whipping around to face him, I had my mouth open to protest but when I saw a wide, amused smirk stretched across his face, my shoulders slumped and I gave another sigh.

“I guess I deserved that.” I raised the bottle for another drink.

“Maybe,” he conceded.

“I’m not usually like that, though,” I rushed out, glancing up at him.

Harry rose both of his eyebrows, his lips curling a little higher. “Yeah?”

“Oh shut it,” I narrowed my eyes at him and rested back against the door of the fridge. “I may not seem like it but I’m not the kind of bird who snogs someone and leaves. Most of the time I’m usually nice enough to let them come home with me.”

He chortled with a low bit of laughter, “Guess I’ll keep that in mind, then.”

I felt myself smile slightly, tucking my chin down to run my thumb over the label on the water bottle as a silence settled over us. It was broken by a loud, obnoxious burst of cheers and laughter. I could distinctly hear Niall’s Irish accent shouting over the commotion. Something told me he’d probably drawn that last king.

Snorting softly, I shook my head and looked back up across the kitchen to find Harry still standing next to the island observing me.

“God,” I huffed out, “I’m not nearly drunk enough for this.”

“Don’t think I am either.”

I gave him an unimpressed look. “You’re not drunk at all.”

“Maybe not,” Harry shrugged with a small grin, “but if we’re being honest, I don’t think anyone here is drunk enough to deal with the two of them.”

“Probably not,” I agreed just as I heard Louis hollering at Niall to keep chugging. “But you don’t have to drag one of them home and deal with them puking all over your breakfast in the morning.”

“Sorry ‘bout that.”

I touched one shoulder to my ear, “Nothing new. He does it for me so I figure it’s only fair to return the favor, yeah?”

He nodded once, letting another half a second silence pass before bringing his hand up to his lip and staring over at me.

“Can I ask you something, Adriana?”

“Oh, um,” I mumbled, a bit taken back, “Sure, I guess.”

“Why did you stop drinking after the ping pong game?”

Averting my eyes down to the now wrinkled fabric of my skirt, I scuffed my heeled bootie over the tile and sucked my lip between my teeth.

I’d been expecting him to bring it up. It was obvious he’d noticed from sitting next to me on the couch, I just wasn’t sure if I wanted to answer him. Mostly because I wasn’t very proud of the answer myself. And whether that was because I was ashamed of what it meant or I was just annoyed that I’d let it get to me, I wasn’t sure. But I figured after sticking my tongue down his throat again, I owed him some sort of explanation.

I picked my head up and shoved a loose piece of hair out of my face, “I – “

But before I could even get a word out, a hoard of boys came trampling into the kitchen. I recognized most of them as some of Liam’s teammates from around campus but none of them even seemed to notice we were there. They went straight for what was left of the communal bar, grabbing the last unopened whiskey bottle and dispersing a few different shots glasses before popping off the top with a resounding cheer of what obviously called for celebration.

I raised my eyebrows across the kitchen at Harry, trying to ignore them completely.

“Do you wanna go somewhere else?”

I didn’t know what his reaction would be. I almost thought he might refuse, since the last time I asked him something similar, I ended up straddling his lap with my lips attached to his neck.

But I was surprised when I saw him nod, dropping his hand from his mouth.

“Yeah, alright.”

I allowed myself to glance back once as I lead him out of the kitchen away from the living room, by passing the game room to head farther into the flat. There was a lounge room I remembered stumbling into the year before when I was looking for the bathroom and it was almost deserted, just a pair of girls giggling with each other over a bottle of champagne in the corner.

Harry and I didn’t give them a second glance before I plopped down on the fancy white sofa facing the window.

“Why do I feel like we’re not supposed to be in here?” he asked, sitting a few feet away from me.

I shrugged and kicked off my boots, bring my feet up and tucking them carefully underneath my bum.

“Liam’s too busy trying to impress Tristan to worry about where anybody is and he’s probably had too many beers to care.”

Harry raised his eyebrows and relaxed back into the sofa, or as relaxed as anybody could get with his back still stiff.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Another silence took over, just the sound of the two girls across the room whispering to each other as I ran my fingers over back of the couch. Harry was looking at me expectantly, his mouth in a flat line and his body angled toward mine, waiting for me to say something.

I sighed and let my hand dropped to my lap.

“I have a class tomorrow,” I finally said. “That’s why I stopped drinking.”

He bobbed his head slowly, but stayed quiet like he knew there was more to do it than that.

Because, of course, there was.

“I didn’t want to,” I continued “If it were up to me I’d probably be about as sober as Niall right now. But when you told me you weren’t drinking because of your class in the morning, I felt guilty for not giving a shit about my own.”

Harry immediately sat up, “I didn’t mean to make you feel guilty. I didn’t want to ruin your night.”

I shrugged and let a short dark, chortle bubble up from my chest.

“It’s fine. Not your fault I can’t be fucked to get my shit together. Should’ve done that a long time ago.”

“Better late than never, yeah?”

“I guess,” I shrugged one shoulder and kept my eyes on my hands. “I just feel like I’ve wasted time, you know? Been here for three years and what I have a got to show for it? A few decent grades and how to bullshit my way through an exam with a hangover?”

Harry bent forward to rest his elbows on his knees, cupping his chin as he turned to look at me.

“I don’t know. It seems like you’ve got more going for you than you think. I’ve read your articles in the school paper. I had no idea thirty five percent of the student body prefers skinny jeans over bootcut.”

“Shut it!” I reached forward to tap him on the shoulder. “Mrs. Perkins made me write that and I still regret even letting her publish it.”

“Still,” Harry grinned back at me, “It was really well written, even if it was about something as irrelevant as trouser preferences.”

“Maybe,” I conceded, sinking back into the throw pillows. “But what’s that gonna do for me later? It’s not like I’ve got any internships or jobs lined up for when we graduate. I’m probably going to end up shipping myself back to my mum.”

His smile softened sympathetically.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out. You seem like the kind of girl who goes after what she wants.”

“Oh, yeah?” I cocked an eyebrow at him. “What about you, then? You got everything figured out?”

“No,” he insisted with a light chortle.

My expression flattened into a disbelieving stare.

“Alright,” he gave in, straighten himself back up again. “I mean, yeah, I’ve got a few options open for me and I know what I want to do. I’m just not sure how I’m supposed to get there, you know? Everyone keeps telling me different things and I don’t know whose advice to take.”

Nodding slowly, I bowed my head to pick at the seams of my skirt again.

If there was anything I could relate to it, it was being pulled in opposite directions. Mum wants me come back home and work at a dingy little news magazine in Manchester. Dad and Gran feel like I’m wasting my time trying to make a decent living off writing and insist I should go into something more useful and practical like nursing. While everybody else says fuck what anyone else wants because they’re not the ones who have to live with my life. The problem was I wasn’t even sure what I actually wanted to do with it.

But I’d already tormented Harry with enough of my issues for one night.

“What do you wanna do, then?” I asked, looking back up at him.

“Teaching, actually,” the corners of his mouth curved, “Primary school if I can manage it.”

“Really? Niall told me you were studying psychology.”

“I am,” he confirmed, “It’s just my minor, though. My counselor told me it’d help me get hired after I graduated, understanding human behavior and what not. He’s the reason I’ve put myself through Mr. Branson’s Studies in Consciousness course this semester.”

My head snapped up in surprise. “You’re joking.”

“No,” he scrunched his brows at my reaction. “I need it to graduate and he told me – “

“No, I mean,” I sat myself up on my knees, “You’re taking that course this semester? Because I am too. What day do you have him?”

“Oh. I’ve got him early on Friday morning at like eight. When have you got him?”

A satisfied smirk spread across my face. “Guess you’re gonna be suffering with me, then. And just so you know, I’m not a fully functioning human being until at least after ten.”

“Really?” Harry curled up one side of his mouth and angled himself to face me on the couch. “How did you get signed up for that one, then? Didn’t think you’d need any psychology for journalism.

I rested my elbow against the back of the couch with a small grimace.

“Technically, I don’t. But Mrs. Perkins suggested I take it so I could be a more “well rounded writer” and better empathize with the people I’m writing about – whatever that means. And the only class left by the time I signed up was either at seven on Friday night or eight Friday morning and I decided actually having a weekend was more important than my sleep.”

Harry laughed and reached up to tug at his bottom lip. “Maybe it won’t be so bad. Everyone tells me he lectures for most of the class but if you take decent notes and actually do the essays you can pass the class.”

“Does that mean I get to copy off yours so I can nap for the entire hour and half?”

“Only if you bring me a full English. I like extra sausage on mine too.”

I took one of the fancy decorative pillows and tossed it at him. It would have hit him in the groin if he hadn’t caught it.

“I won’t even make Niall a bloody fry-up and I’ve lived with him for two years. What makes you think you deserve it?”

Harry smirked and set the pillow carefully and neatly back into place. “Because if you don’t I’m gonna poke you every time you fall asleep in class.”

“God, no wonder you’re friends with Niall. You’re almost as infuriating as he is.”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” he chuckled in amusement. “But I guess you would know since you have to deal with him every day.”

I rolled my eyes, dramatically. “Don’t I know it. Worst decision I ever made when I agreed to move in with him.”

Okay, that was a lie but there were days I seriously considered moving out into a shitty studio flat of my own. Those days usually included Niall running around in briefs and refusing to put clothes on.

Harry diverted his eyes and cleared his throat awkwardly, “What’s going on with you guys, then? Is that like a thing or…”

“Oh god,” I threw my head back, “not you, too!”

“I was just curious!” Harry defended himself, “The way Louis talks about it and the way Niall acts around you… I thought…”

“Harry, I’m not interested in Niall.”

“Is he interested in you, then?” he asked apprehensively. “Because he didn’t look very happy when you kissed me.”

“I don’t know and it doesn’t matter,” I insisted with a huff, “because the last thing I want to do is date my flat mate who leaves cereal bowls in the sink for weeks at a time and thinks just picking his clothes up and moving them into the washing basket is an actual form of cleaning.”

Harry lifted his mouth into a slight smirk. “So, he’s not gonna come tear me one for being in here alone with you?”

“He better not,” I scoffed, “He’s got no room to talk with that bird he had on his arm.”

“Good,” he pressed his lips together, “because I actually kind of like this.”

“Like what? Being alone with me?”

“Talking with you, actually.” He glanced up with a small smile. “It’s nice to be around you without… uh…”

“Having my tongue down your throat?”

“Yeah, that,” he chuckled, running a hand back through his hair. “I mean, that’s good, too. I didn’t kiss you back just to be polite but I like getting to know you and stuff. You’re really quite funny.”

“Thanks,” I grinned back at him, feeling a bit of heat on my cheeks. “You’re not so bad yourself. Though I’m not really sure if you’re trying to tell me to kiss you again or you just wanna talk to me.”

Harry shrugged his shoulders rather smugly, dimples I’d never noticed he had indenting his cheeks.

“Maybe, both. But I’d really like to hang out with you again. You know, maybe when it’s actually light outside and there isn’t alcohol involved.”

I chewed on the edge of my lip, looking up at him. “My class ends at noon tomorrow. I could meet you for lunch at the pizza place just outside of campus. The one off of Langham?”

“I can do that,” he nodded, before his smirk widened even further. “You know, as long as Niall’s okay with it.”

“Urgh!” I leaned over to shove his shoulder with both hands, “I take it back. I’m not eating anywhere with you if you’re gonna keep bring him up.”

“I’m kidding, Adriana.”

“Good,” I grumbled, pulling back and crossing my arms over my chest.

We sat there in silence for a few seconds as Harry made a show of rubbing the sore spot on his shoulder. It was only then I noticed the two giggling girls were gone and the loud, thump of music still coming through the walls. It reminded me just how late it probably was.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then?” I offered, looking back over at him. “I should probably head back home now I have any hope of getting up for class tomorrow.”

“Oh, um yeah,” Harry shoved his hair away from his face, watching me slid my legs out from underneath me and reach down for my shoes. “I should probably go too. I need to be up at half seven.”

I snorted, leaning down to zip up my boots. “Forgive me if I don’t feel you. Knowing me, I’ll probably still be hungover.”

He chuckled low in his chest, watching me shove off the couch and onto my feet.

“I’ll meet you on the east end of campus, then?”

“Works for me,” I nodded. “Sorry, if I’m a little late. The Professor sometimes runs long if she’s not finished with her lectures.”

“That’s fine,” he craned his neck to look up at me with a small smile. “I can wait.”

A small grin broke out on my face as I started backing towards the door, “See you then, Harry.”

“See you then, Adriana.”

Still smiling to myself, I turned on my heel to leave but by the time I’d crossed the room and maneuvered through the furniture, I realized I still had something left to say to him.

“Hey, Harry,” I called, switching back around to linger in the doorway.

He looked up at me, his eyes wide and almost hopeful.

“Yeah?”