#harry preference

For the majority of Y/N’s life, she has been an afterthought. 

She was constantly picked last for teams in P.E., her friends in elementary school would conveniently forget to invite her to their birthday parties, and one time her parents texted her ‘Happy Birthday’ a week after her birthday already passed. Maybe it was her fault for never correcting them, or maybe she could have been more vocal about how her friends were constantly hurting her feelings, but she never was… It just wasn’t something she was comfortable with.

It used to bother her a lot; she wore the feelings of abandonment on her sleeve and the pain was etched into every fine line on her face. Now, she was so desensitized to the casual rejection that when someone forgot to text her happy birthday, or her parents realized they hadn’t called her back in quite some time, she’d just shrug her shoulders and let it roll off her back. 

However, this defense mechanism started becoming a problem when she realized that it was nearly impossible for her to form a meaningful connection with anyone anymore. In college, she ignored the invitations from her flatmates to attend parties because she knew eventually they would grow tired of her. It was better for them to invite her and allow Y/N to decline the offers on her own terms, rather than get attached to a friend group and watch them get annoyed at the way she stuck to them like glue— she would become bothersome and hard to get rid of. This way, she could decline their offers and be somewhat of an enigma. She wasn’t weird, she was aloof. It was her social barrier, and the only thing that really kept her together. 

When she thought back to high school, her throat squeezed tightly. Once everyone realized what a pushover she was, they would take advantage of her until they had no use for her anymore. The most haunting memory is when she had her first boyfriend, whom she dated for a total of three months, before she had found out he was getting paid by the other friends in their group. After that, she chose to eat lunch in the bathroom stall, which seemed pathetic, but it was much more comfortable than anyone probably expected.

Why her friends paid someone to date her, she never got a true answer for. After some sleuthing, the only answers she got was that they ‘thought it would be funny,’ and it ‘worked as distraction.’ 

Distraction for what? She didn’t think she could handle the answer, so she chose not to ask.

The guy who was being paid to take her out –good money, might she add– went to a private high school with Y/N, surrounded by rich folks and she didn’t fall short of that bracket either. She thinks maybe that’s why her parents are so… The way they are. No time for her when they were cycling in and out of their workplace, grossing high profits. He explained that he felt really bad for the whole ordeal, and wasn’t usually that much of a jerk. Her jaw twitched at his explanation, and before she could even filter the question, it had sprang out of her mouth.

“Did you ever… Did you ever grow feelings for me?” Y/N asked, kicking herself because she decided as soon as the question was out on the table, she didn’t actually want to know the answer.

By the way his face contorted, and his eyes were shining with a glimpse of sympathy, she knew she had her answer and immediately collected her things. As calmly as she could, she walked out of her school library and never talked to those friends again. 

For weeks, she begged her parents to remove her from school and let her do independent studies. She was smart enough for it. Time and time again, they told her no. So she did the only thing she possibly could and buried her nose in her textbooks. Determined to get into the best school she could, receive a job offer far away from her hometown, and get the hell out of where she grew up. 

And that’s just how Y/N graduated from college with her degree in accounting, got hired at a semi-big corporation that owned quite a few smaller businesses, and somehow became best friends with the company owner. The CEO was older, nearly her dad’s age, and though she had sworn off friends and enjoyed her reclusive lifestyle, there was something about Danny that was different. 

Sure, it was a little weird that she was just out of college and her best friend was a 50-something year old corporate executive, and maybe he didn’t realize that he was her best friend, but he never forgot her birthday.

It was like Danny was acutely aware of Y/N’s poor experiences with friends, and her unique inability to connect with people on an emotional level, so he met her where she was comfortable. He didn’t push or prod, but he kept her close enough to know she wasn’t alone, but at a far enough distance that Y/N was comfortable with the relationship.

And he invited her to his family barbecues. The first time Y/N went to one of those barbecues, she ate so much potato salad, she swore she wouldn’t touch it ever again.

Sometimes during her day, Danny would drop a few envelopes off on her desk and tell her that he needed them transported to his other facilities and given to their executives. It started off small, but then became a big part of her job. He even gave her a raise for all the time she took out of her day to drop by his other facilities. Was she overqualified? Yes, absolutely. But sometimes it was nice to take a break from crunching numbers and get out of the office for a while. By the time Danny realized she didn’t mind doing the silly little tasks he would assign her, he had grown fond of her and utilized her noninvasive personality to his advantage.

Some of the other facilities were… Sketchy to say the least. Often in the heart of a crime-riddled downtown area, or occupied by strangers that didn’t look too friendly. Regardless, she always completed her tasks without so much of a complaint coming from her. Anything to keep Danny happy, she’d do. Especially considering the fact that he had tucked her under his wing. If that meant she had to go to a couple places that made her semi-uncomfortable a couple times a month, then she would do it.

As time passed, Danny grew more open with her. Though he never explained why certain parts of his company were in weird spots (and sometimes so far away), he had made it seem like business was business— no matter the location. It wasn’t until the Christmas season that Danny asked Y/N what her plans were. When she explained that her family lived on the other side of the country and wasn’t too keen on holiday celebrations, he asked if she would come to Christmas dinner. 

So she did.

And when she got there and realized there were multiple gifts under the tree with her name on them from Santa (Danny and Santa, they were good friends, he had told her), she nearly teared up at the thought that someone… remembered her.

“Hey Y/N,” Danny poked his head into her office, interrupting her stream of thoughts. He usually came in first thing in the morning to let her know he was there but today was a little different. “We’re hiring another accountant.”

“Did someone leave?” Y/N swiveled in her chair, tracing her fingers on the invisible pattern atop her glass desk.

“No, we just need some more support. There are no more available cubicles, so we were wondering if we could put him in your office for the time being. Until there is some space for him?” Danny asked, which was nice of him, because he really didn’t need to do that. He owned the place after all.

“Of course,” Y/N said, “I’d be happy to share this space.”

“Great,” Danny said, and opened the door to allow the maintenance guys to carry in a desk setup meant for the new guy. Y/N could only laugh, because Danny knew she wouldn’t say no.

After the maintenance guys were done putting the desk back together and moving around some of the stuff that was set up for convenience (a printer just for Y/N so she didn’t have to make her way down to the copy room, a table full of sweet treats, and her own coffee maker), Y/N got back to work. Smiling at the maintenance guys, she thanked them on their way out.

It wasn’t but an hour later the new guy was knocking on the door, the blinds concealing her from seeing him through the window. She jumped slightly, not quite used to so many people knocking on her door and entering the space throughout the day.

“Come in,” Y/N squeaked out. The door knob twisted, revealing the new guy in all his glory.

Y/N couldn’t help her jaw become unhinged from the joints. He was beautiful— the kind of beautiful that made her insides turn and mouth water. He was wearing a black turtleneck, tucked into a pair of gray slacks. His hair, which seemed to be curly, was gelled back for the most part, but the subtleness of curls were peeking through. 

When he looked at her, it was with a gleam of mischief, like he was bound to get her into some sort of trouble. His cologne was a warm vanilla and musk, wafting toward her even though he was a good twenty feet away. As Y/N studied his face— the beautiful crook of his nose, the deep green of his eyes, the perfect indentations of smile lines— she tried to place where he might belong. That face wasn’t the face of an accountant. 

Quite the opposite, actually. 

He looked like he belonged in movies. The kind of movies that had Oscar nominations and played in theaters for months on end. Truthfully, he looked like he was the next contender to play James Bond. 

“Hi,” he breathed, stepping through the threshold and closing the door behind him. His shoulder bag, which seemed to carry his laptop, slipped off the slope of his shoulder, and he effortlessly used his thumb to put it back. And when he spoke, she registered that he really could play James Bond. The British accent was noticeable, with traces of American undertones like he had been living in the United States for a little too long.

Y/N felt underdressed as she looked at him, knowing very well that she was in the appropriate accountant attire. He was just so pretty, she thought maybe she needed to put on some lip gloss or accessorize a bit better. Maybe she didn’t feel underdressed, maybe she just didn’t feel beautiful the way he was. Sometimes when Y/N saw someone who was all too beautiful, it would trigger the memory of her fake high school boyfriend. If she was beautiful, like the new guy, that entire situation would have never happened to her.

Forgetting greetings, Y/N sputtered out, “I’m Y/N.”

He smiled, a breathy chuckle releasing from his throat. Approaching the desk, he held his hand out, “I’m Harry.”

She stood up briefly, extending her own hand out and clasping it in his. His hand was big and slightly cold from the atmospheric river happening outside. The pitter-patter of the rain had gotten increasingly stronger through each day of January. The drops hitting the windows were almost soothing throughout the day. 

“Your desk is over there,” Y/N motioned to the desk on the opposite side of the room. The more she looked at it, the more she realized she should have asked the maintenance guy if they could rearrange the feng shui. It was going to be terribly awkward sitting across from Harry, a side by side situation would probably be more pleasant for the both of them. “The maintenance guys put it in today.”

“I’ll have to thank them when I see them,” Harry offered a lopsided grin, settling his bag on his new desk.

“They’re pretty great,” Y/N told him, tucking herself back into her desk. Small talk was always awkward for her. In fact, she would much rather sit in silence than make mindless chatter with people who probably didn’t actually care about what she had to say.

“Why are you the only accountant that gets your own office? Are you the head accountant?” Harry was taking things out of his bag, placing random photos on the desk. Y/N couldn’t help but eye them, her curiosity constantly getting the best of her. Did he have a family? Wife? Kids? Maybe a husband?

“No,” she let out a soft laugh, “I guess I’m just Danny’s favorite.”

“How did you become his favorite?” Harry’s smile matched the tone of the conversation. His questions were inquisitive and threw her a bit off guard as not many people inquired about her life, but it was nice to actually hear her voice as she often stifled herself.

“I actually… don’t really know.”

“I’ve got a few reports that I need to take care of, so I’ll leave you alone. If my typing is too loud or you can hear the gears in my brain turning, please let me know.”

“Okay, you let me know too. The past couple months I’ve been in here by myself, and I can be loud on my own.”

He looked up, cocking a brow.

“No, I meant that— never mind.”

After their first encounter, Harry and Y/N didn’t really talk. Weeks passed with Harry coming into work, doing his job, and then leaving. Sometimes he would ask Y/N about her life, but for the most part he remained quiet, gently dodging any question Y/N threw at him.

Y/N couldn’t say that she didn’t like the silence. Growing up lonely made her accustomed to this kind of environment. She was a more effective worker when she wasn’t distracted by the chit chat of others, and even though she didn’t really know Harry, it was kind of nice to have another person sharing her space.

It wasn’t until two months of Harry working there that Y/N had run into him outside of a flower shop of all places. As the start of spring rallied in, she decided it was time to pick out a spring-centered floral arrangement for her apartment. Fluttering through the multiple flower options (turns out so many beautiful flowers were in season during the Spring), she heard a man clear his throat behind her.

“Y/N?” That familiar British accent was directly behind her. As she turned around, she took in his casual appearance, which was a drastic difference from the clothing he sported in the office. Trading slacks for linen pants and a tie for an oversized t-shirt, Harry looked comfortable and in his element in this flower shop.

“Oh,” Y/N breathed out, her face feeling hot. She wasn’t sure why she was getting so flustered, being in a flower shop was a perfectly normal place to be. “What are you doing here?”

Harry offered a small smile, the smirk etched onto his face like it was meant to be there. It was very obvious that he knew he made her feel flustered, and he couldn’t say that he was not used to making girls a bit weak in the knees. As cocky as it sounded, he knew he was a conventionally attractive guy. And for some reason, a girl like Y/N was like bait on a hook. Maybe it was the shyness or the awkward laughter that always followed behind her sentences, but it was clear Harry was more keen on getting to know her than he originally let on.

“Well, getting flowers. You see, typically, when someone enters a flower shop, they have one goal in mind,” Harry chuckled softly, the sarcasm dripping from his tone like honey from a hive. The words seemed direct, but they were playful, meaning to make Y/N more comfortable with his presence.

With one hand, Harry grabbed the beautiful floral arrangement Y/N had concocted. Tulips, roses, and daisies made the base of the bouquet. Harry looked around, finding some baby’s breath and wildflowers to fill in the sparse areas of the arrangement. With wide eyes, Y/N watched him, shocked at his eye for florals.

“There,” Harry said softly, “Now it’s perfect.”

After his first visit to Italy, he had fallen in love with the country. Hence, why he had rented out a house in a coastal town. The country’s natural and effortless beauty inspired him to write new music for his upcoming album. The beautiful sunsets, the sunny mornings, the art, and the food brought peace and tranquility to him. It was the perfect place for him to hide — for a while.  It was on one of his morning runs; he first noticed her. 

She wore a bright yellow bikini that exposed most of her olive skin to the sun rays. She sat on a striped towel that she had laid out on the hot sand.  Her hair was slicked back and wet after she had dipped in the ocean to refresh her body. 

Of course, she never caught sight of his dilated pupils or the way he had leaned forward — lured by her beauty.  Her attention was preoccupied with a hardcover of Pride and Prejudice; that she had brought along as a source of entertainment for the day.  The young woman appeared too indulged in the printed words to notice his existence. 

He watched her for a few hours. Now and then he would remind himself of the hundred reasons why he shouldn’t approach. He had even managed to take a few steps towards her. Harry eventually removed himself as soon as it became too much. He had beaten the temptation. 

The first time he spoke to her was at a local restaurant. Harry had taken himself out on a late lunch date. He had dressed up nicely and had walked to the bistro. He noticed her presence after taking his first sip out of his freshly served Chardonnay. She sat on the table across from him. This time she wasn't submerged in a book. He could finally admire her natural beauty up close. The fullness of the apples of her cheeks, her long dark eyelashes, her red-tinted lips, and of course light sunburn on her upper cheeks and across the bridge of her nose. 

A few minutes later, her order had arrived. It was ricotta and mushroom stuffed ravioli in a black truffle sauce. She was stuffing her face when they made eye contact. Harry’s lips curved upwards creating a lopsided smile as she scrambled to clean the creamy sauce off her face. He hadn't said anything to her, but she already felt embarrassed. 

”Sono deliziosa?” He had done it. He couldn’t just watch her and pray she’d take the first step. It was time to put his Italian to the test. He had been practicing his Italian and even though he already had a few weeks on the Amalfi coast; he still struggled to comprehend. Harry only hoped she would be able to understand him.

”E molto deliziosa” She smiled at him for the first time. She beamed, radiating an intoxicating wave of warmth and happiness towards him. Her lips parted open for a split second but before she could utter a word the waiter approached. 

“Hai bisogno di qualcos’ altro?”  He was asking her if she needed anything else. She understood what he was asking, but she couldn’t remember how to say cheese.

“Fuck” she said under her breath. “Queso. Fromage. Cheese” She had forgotten how to speak. All her languages had mixed in one and the wires had crossed. “How do you say it?” She whispered under her breath, her cheeks warmed in embarrassment as the waiter tried to comprehend. 

“Formaggio. Ha bisogno di formaggio parmigiano, per favore” Harry interrupted, noticing her uneasiness and her inevitable embarrassment. He knew that it wasn’t his business and he shouldn’t have been listening to the conversation, but he had to help her. 

The waiter turned his attention to the young celebrity. He was also a bit surprised that Harry had spoken for her. He had seen that Harry kept to himself. He usually attended dinner on his own and hardly even bothered to use his phone. “Inmediatamente”. 

“Thank you” She thanked Harry as soon as the waiter had left in search of the parmesan cheese that she so craved. Harry’s excessive focus on watching the server carrying out her request had prevented him from realizing that she spoke perfect English. He had to stop himself from gasping when processed her delicate voice. She had an accent. Slight. Gentle. Barely-there and it wasn’t Italian. He would later learn that her R’s made it more prominent. 

“It’s alright. It happens” She instantly recognized who he was. Her heart raced for a minute or two, but she restrained herself from making a huge scene. After all, it was Harry Styles. Whom she considered, the most stylish man of her generation. The man could wear a curtain and still pull it off. “I am Harry” He rises a bit from his seat, extending his right hand. 

“Catalina” She shakes his hand with a smile. “So, what brings you here?” Even her name was attractive — he wondered. 

“Is’not obvious?” 

“Not really. Enlighten me” The stranger gives him a small smirk while placing her napkin over her lap after crossing her legs under the table. Harry purges his lips as he uses his index finger and thumb to slightly tug on his bottom lip. 

His whole plan to stay away from her had failed. Did he regret it?. Hell no! He just hoped he had chosen wisely. 

“The art” He reveals as he watches her cut one of her ravioli before putting it in her mouth. She responds by only nodding; too indulged in the explosion of flavors within her mouth. 

“Music?” She hums as she brings the glass of wine up to her mouth. “ I thought you were more of a  dolce far niente type of man” her mouth curved into a smile. Dolce far niente means pleasant relaxation in carefree idleness. Harry instantly identified the phrase from Julia Roberts's famous movie — Eat, Pray, Love. She remembered reading somewhere that he was a rom-com fan. 

“Are you?” He shot back. There was no doubt that he was intrigued by her. 

“Si” She shrugged as she pushed around some ravioli. 

“Then we have more in common than I thought, Catalina” Her name rolled off his tongue without any strain. It was as if he had been practicing for months. She had never heard her name sound so attractively. Sure, he had an accent, but it was still beautifully pronounced. 

Harry’s order arrived moments later. He had ordered the classic spaghetti bolognese. He grabbed his fork and knife and right before digging into the plate, he looked up at her. Catalina had been watching him since silence had fallen upon them. His smirk grew into a soft chuckle as their eyes met. She giggled at him and first noticed his dimples. She now understood everyone's obsession with his smile. 

“Would you join me?” Catalina spluttered after a few minutes of mentally debating with herself. She felt her heart beating in her throat and her hands dripping with sweat as other parts of her body. It was all very hot. 

Catalina wasn’t the type of woman to initiate conversation. She rarely even texts first!. Her excuse is usually that she doesn’t want to bother or interrupt. In reality, she is scared shitless to make a fool out of herself. Therefore, she was quite surprised by herself to have asked him to have dinner together. 

Harry cocked his head with his lips pursed. To her, he looked very pensive as if he was making a big decision. She didn’t blame him. He was on vacation and the last thing he wanted was to be photographed with a random girl and for questions to be asked. Although, he had already agreed in his mind. He just couldn’t come across as desperate. Even though he was. Harry wanted to know more. 

His fingers tucked his clothed napkin into the collar of his shirt. A chuckle left his lips as he pushed his seat back and raised on his feet. He held his plate and utensils with one hand while his glass of wine with the other. 

“So, where are you from?” Harry was first to ask, as he twisted his spaghetti around his folk. Catalina leaned back on her seat, her fingers clenching around her wine glass as she finished swallowing. “I am English” he laughs as if his accent didn’t give it away. 

“Really? Bet my life you were Italian” Catalina bantered 

“What gave it away?” 

“The facial hair and the good head of locks” Harry grinned covering his face with his hands, feeling his cheeks heating up. He felt ridiculous for blushing at such a minuscule compliment. “But anyway, I was born in South America, but raised in Spain by my aunt”. She revealed playing with the small droplets around the cup of ice water that had been forgotten. 

“And what are you doing here?” 

“I study here” She had just finished her first semester. “Well not here, but in Rome. I am majoring in art history”.

The not so strangers sat for hours and indulged in one more bottle of wine. Harry encouraged her to pick but she politely refused. She said that she hadn’t spent enough time in Italy to know what was best. 

She told him about her parents. Her father had walked out on her mother after she had told him that she was expecting. Catalina also shared with him how she felt after losing her mother to cancer when she was only ten. She was quite surprised at herself. She had never shared so much with anyone. Let alone, someone she had met that same night. Harry brought her some kind of comfort that she had no idea she needed. 

Harry listened to her. She hadn’t finished speaking and answering his previous question and he already had another one formulated. He liked hearing her speak. She allowed him to pick at her brain and he liked what he saw. She was driven, independent, somewhat lonely, but incredibly smart. Catalina was also unbelievably wise for her age. 

“What about you? Is fame all you thought it would be?” Catalina asked moments after they had been kicked out of the restaurant. They eventually had to close. Harry held what was left of the bottle as they walked down the isolated streets. 

“That’s a heavily loaded question” He chuckled, “It’s way more complicated and difficult. I think I expected to never feel lonely by the continuous abundance of people around me. But in reality, sometimes it feels lonelier than when I was just Harry” Harry shrugged, masking the pain that the vulnerability that he suddenly felt.

“I get it. The screams and faces don’t match the number of people close to you” Catalina was not famous but she could understand where he was coming from. Sure, her aunt had raised her, but she had felt lonely for most of her life. Her mother's death had felt a gaping hole in her life that no one has ever been able to fulfill. 

“M’not ungrateful for my friends but I do feel lonely. I guess I haven't found what I am looking for” Harry flashed her a reassuring smile as they walked down to the main road. “Let me help yeh” He had seen her struggling to walk over the cobblestone streets. She wore low heel sandals that complemented the white satin dress that she has opted for. Unfortunately, the heels were thin enough to slip through the stones making her overly cautious where she stepped. 

Harry switched the bottle to his other hand and offered his hand for her to take. She stopped momentarily and stared at his massive hands. They were bare. His famous rings were missing as if they had gone on a vacation too. She took his hand and was slightly surprised at their softness. She had expected them to be rough but they were quite the opposite. 

“Thank you” 

“No problem” He wanted to spend more time with her. He wished that the night wasn’t ending. “I would invite you for some gelato, but it’s quite late. I doubt there is any place opened” 

“How long are you staying?” Catalina asked as she noticed them approaching the entrance of her hotel. 

“A few more weeks” the splendor of the lights of the entrance of the hotel illuminated her features. Harry couldn’t help thinking how lovely she looked. 

“I’ve had a lovely time. Will I see you tomorrow?” 

“M’not planning on goin anywhere” Catalina reached up, resting a delicate hand on his shoulder, she kissed his cheek. 

 “Still can’t believe he drives that thing to school,” Renny muttered. “I mean I would if I had one, too, but … cheating prick.” 

 I had to hand it to Renny. Even if someone was the most likeable person in the world, if they’d done something to cross her friends, she’d find a way to make them the most detestable. At least in her eyes. 

 We waited as he revved the engine and pulled out. He drove fast, but thankfully Renny’s VW could keep up. Grandpa would’ve been a different story. 

 “Where the hell are we going?” 

 “I don’t know.” I fought the urge to add ‘that’s the problem.’

 We travelled towards the coast before he senselessly veered inland again, ending up somewhere I’d never been before. We trailed him slowly, past locked up storefronts, and tagged alleyways, until he turned into a gritty-looking neighborhood. We slowed around the corner, making sure to keep several streets between us. 

 Around the bend, Harry suddenly slammed on his brakes. Renny lurched forward. 

 “What the fuck-” Renny ducked lower in her seat. “Do you think he saw us?”

 In the split two seconds I had, I wagered our chances of reversing and getting through this unseen. But my split two seconds were up, and I hadn’t moved. 

 The motor ran as he got out of the car, calmly, not bothering to shut the door. He’d known. He’d known all along. Time slowed when he faced us, arms crossed, squinting as his judgement penetrated through his Ray Bans all the way through the windshield. He stalked towards our car. No one was around in the rundown neighborhood street to yell at us to get our cars moving. No one could save me from this eternal embarrassment slowly mounting with each step of his black Chelsea boots. 

 The gig was up. 

 I rolled down my window when he tapped on the glass.

 “Go home,” he ordered. 

 I scoffed. “Really? You haven’t talked to me all week and those are the first words you’re going to say to me?” 

 He stepped backwards, acknowledging nothing. “Go. Home,” pointing the direction whence we came. 

 “We weren’t even following you. We were already in the neighborhood asshole!” Renny yelled. 

 I couldn’t have it end like this. I couldn’t have another week of silence, of questions unanswered. The plan was to follow him and see where he ran off to, not utterly expose my desperation. But now that plan was obliterated. Was this it? Was this seriously how he wanted to end things so… pointlessly?

 I opened the car door, running after his sulking frame. The second I placed a hand on his shoulder blade, he whipped around. I cowered. 

 He hadn’t needed to bare his teeth or shout at me to be intimidating. This oppressive darkness rolled off of him in waves, knocking me down repeatedly just when I saw the shore. Like a tired sailor, I’d return to the ocean, knowing the damage it could cause, but knowing it was worth it. It would be worth it… if I could only see beneath the surface. 

 He flinched as I pulled the shades off, but he didn’t look at me. My hand went along his jaw, against the slight stubble that’d made its way through. He relented.

 His pupils were blasted, almost shadowing the outer ring of green. 

 “I changed because of you,” I breathed. Something flashed in his eyes. Something beneath the darkened surface. “I’m not the same as I was before. And I don’t know even know how to… express it. I don’t even know if that’s a good thing,” I admitted. He opened his mouth, but I raised a hand. “I need to know what you’re not telling me. The old me could’ve gone without it, but who I am now? I can’t.” 

 But it was like he only heard half of what I’d said. “I never asked you to be in my life, Y/N.”

 “No, that’s right. You just swindled me into it by pretending to be dumb. You’re a little too good of an actor.”  

 It was his turn to scoff. “No one’s making you run after me.” 

 “No one’s making you be a complete and utter asshole right now, either. Besides yourself. Can you just-” I pushed his chest- “PLEASE. I’m clearly tired of getting nowhere.” 

 Harry looked at his watch, and his jaw clicked. “You know for someone so concerned with their life, you certainly don’t seem to have much of one.” His eyes bore into mine. 

 I swallowed, hard, unmoving though it stung. “I know Viv’s in on it.” 

 It was a stab in the dark, but it worked. He nearly growled.

 I heard Renny open her door behind me.

 “She’s involved in a lot of parts of my life, Y/N. But at least she doesn’t ask too many questions. And she sure as shit doesn’t overstep,” he growled. 

 “We both know I’m not Viv.” 

 “Yeah,” he chuckled. “You’re right…” His eyes levelled with mine. At least she actually fucks me.” 

 I felt like he should’ve stayed, watch the awful betrayal fill my eyes. But he walked away as the air was ripped from my lungs. I wanted to scream, I wanted to run up to him, push him to the ground and tell him-! 

 ...tell him what? 

 It was true. 

 He paused at the car door, not even trying to face me. “Get yourself home.” 

 I didn’t see him drive away. I just heard the slam of the car door as he left me, halfway up the hill. 

 Renny pulled the car up next to me, and I suddenly felt dirty. Like I needed a shower. A very hot, scalding shower, that would burn every inch of him off my body forever. 

 “What’s the plan?” she asked.  

 Clearly, our plan to trail the subject in very deep question had turned out very deeply miserable. 

 In a close encounter, the sailor realizes fairly quickly that the ocean holds all the power to kill them. But the second they acknowledge that, they don’t abandon what they’re looking for. 

 “Can you drop me off at a friend’s?” I asked.

 They just get a bigger ship. 

 -----------

 The just-built senior apartments were the envy of everyone on campus. Modern architecture and sleek interior made it THE choicest option for the upperclassmen - especially the athletes. It was the next best thing for those not living in fraternities or sororities.

 It was also the most expensive on-campus housing available. You could live there if you were rich enough, but more importantly, if you were lucky enough. There was one other way you could live here, though. Chapman held a raffle to “make our housing opportunity equal for everyone.” Which, was bullshit, considering the apartment only reserved four out of sixty rooms for those “raffle winners.” Four raffle winners, out of four THOUSAND upperclassmen.  

 Felix and Zayn had some pretty insane luck. 

 I knocked on their door, antsy as I thought of their probable reaction: “Why is Y/N standing beyond our door on a Thursday night without Renny?” She was my strongest link to them. I’d begged her to come up with me, but she wasn’t budging. Though she wouldn’t admit it, she was a little annoyed at spending the whole day only to have found no other woman and to have been told off by Harry - who she now deems worse than Lying Panty Tossing Baby. 

 A tall athletic-built woman eyed me as she carried their trash down the hall. 

 Felix opened the door. 

 “Oh, hey.” It was the awkward I remember you but we aren’t friends dance. “S’been a while. Come in.” 

 I noticed he was at least 6’ 2” as I moved past him into the foyer where Zayn and Andre paused the video game. They had a whole tech center set up around the T.V. and dull EDC music came from their speaker system. 

 Andre waved and Zayn’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Hey! What’re you doing here?” He moved a pizza box out of his way to head to the open kitchen. Before I could answer, he returned with a cracked beer, handing it to me. 

 “Thanks,” I said, taking a sip out of politeness. Old Da Vinci maps hung on their walls along with tasteful sketches of nude women, and a framed vintage Star Wars poster was in the hallway. 

 “Where’s Renny?” Felix asked, arms crossed as he sat on the arm of the couch. He’d meant it to be casual, but it wasn’t quite casual enough.

 I didn’t want to be the one to break his heart and tell him about Niall if he didn’t already know. And something told me Renny wasn’t cruel enough to rub it in his face. “Uh, not sure. She had to buzz off somewhere though.” To Niall’s bed. I looked between the three of them. “All of you got so. Lucky. With this place. I almost didn’t believe it when Renny told me.” 

 “Not me!” Andre lifted his beer and dramatically pounded it, slamming it down on the table next to the other four beers.

 “Woah-ugh! Pa! That’s mahogany!” Felix spluttered. 

 “You found it at a garage sale!” 

 “It’s still mahogany!” he squeaked. His gangly arms flailed before adjusting his collar. “Either I’m never donating furniture to this apartment again - or you’re not allowed back in this apartment again. Or both.”

 Andre didn’t answer, just fell flat on the couch. Something was off with him. The energy shifted in the room as the guys eyed Andre. I’d clearly come at a wrong time. 

 “I can swing by later, I know you guys were in the middle of a... game…” 

  Zayn swatted his hand. “No, you’re fine. He’s just…” 

 Andre perked up, awaiting Zayn’s next words. 

 “You want to tell her?” Zayn finished. 

 Andre let out an awkward moan. “You know how date night is coming up?”

 My brows stitched. 

 “No??” He cleared his throat, surprised he had to explain. “So Sig Chi’s date night is coming up and basically we just bring a date, and… party. There’s a theme and everything. You really haven’t heard about this?”

 I shook my head.

 “Huh. It’s kind of a big deal that’s why I’m kind of... huh.”  

 “When is it?” I asked.

 “Tomorrow.” 

 “Tomorrow?!” I paused, thoroughly confused. Had Niall told Renny about this? And if it was Sigma Chi then… Harry must already have a date. For tomorrow. My blood boiled thinking that could be part of the reason why he’d dropped off the face of the Earth this week. So he wouldn’t have to take me as his date. 

 “Mine cancelled on me,” Andre said, running a hand over defined black coils. 

 “Dude, for the hundredth time, it’s not that big of a deal.” 

 “You’re not the one in a frat, Felix!” He laughed humorlessly before landing in a pile on the couch again. In a rare moment, I laughed with him. It was slightly ridiculous how important parties were.

 “Oh-kay,” Felix muttered. His blonde hair flopped on the couch next to Andre. He looked up to me, shrugging. “He’s helpless. Without the distraction of video games. Absolutely helpless.” 

 Zayn gave me a once-over. “You’re in the sorority with Renny, aren’t you?” 

 “Uh, yeah. Kind of. Not officially official yet. Kind of in the process of everything right now. Uh, but” -his eyes narrowed from my rambling- “Yeah. Yeah, I’m in it,” I settled on. 

 Andre came to life again. “Would you go with me?” 

 “Oh! Uh…” 

 “You don’t have to,” Zayn offered. 

 “I can do it. I wasn’t doing anything anyways.” The Netflix I was betraying threw a tantrum in the back of my mind. This weekend I’d been wanting to do nothing but lay low, and preferably, in bed.  

 But if today taught me anything, it’s that my plans clearly never work out too well.

 “Seriously?! It’ll only be a couple hours, I won’t make you stay the whole time. Actually, you can leave whenever you want. Just walk in with me.” 

 “Excuse me?” I asked, half-smiling. 

 “Okay, that sounded bad.” He let out a breathless laugh. “What I meant to say was, thank you. You’ll have a great time.” He threw up the finger guns. 

 Zayn nudged my shoulder with his beer. “Want to go on the balcony?” His eyes bore into mine, and I knew that he knew this wasn’t just a friendly visit. A slight chill ran through me at his perception. It was unnerving how he always seemed to… know. But I guess I shouldn’t judge him for having a keen sixth sense. 

 I let him lead me to the sliding glass door.  

 “Oh, the theme’s James Bond, too! So dress like a Bond girl!” Andre called after us. 

 “Like heels?” I asked. But Zayn slid the door shut behind us. It was dark out, but inside I could see Andre give me a thumbs up before resuming the video game with Felix. 

 “Saved his life. Mate wouldn’t stop gabbin’ ‘bout how gutted he was.” Zayn muttered. The flick of a lighter grabbed my attention. The slight orange illuminated dark features and hollowed cheeks as he took a drag. There was no denying he was handsome, especially in this mood lighting. He probably could’ve been recruited for any fraternity off looks alone, but something told me he wouldn’t step near the place. His vibe was too… anti-organization. He blew the smoke over his shoulder. 

 “Very tortured artist of you,” I noted.

 His head tilted at tortured as if throwing the title back to me. “Artist, maybe. Tortured, no.” 

 “What’s a yes for you, then?” 

 “Yes to whateva you’ve been plannin’ on asking me,” he smirked. “Must’ve been important if you didn’t find me in the studio.” 

 I looked down, then out at the city. Thousands of little people scattered everywhere. Students crawling from late-night classes on the fringes of campus looked like ants. I held my thumb up for scale. Verified ants. Maybe smaller. 

 “I came here to find a different perspective.” My hand fell. I faced him square. “Your perspective.” 

 He took another drag, letting the smoke fill the space between us. “On?” 

 I was a little surprised he didn’t know.

 “Harry.”  

 If he didn’t know, he also didn’t seem too surprised. He leaned against the railing, hazel eyes undressing desperate thoughts. “What do you want to know?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

 The ash from his cigarette floated down to his feet, but an unseen wind carried it up again, rolling over and down like dirty snowflakes to the street below. 

 “I know he doesn’t like you.” 

 Zayn’s laugh was light, soft, but carried the same fullness as Renny’s. “Perceptive girl, ya? S’not what you want to know though is it.” 

 “Why is he so scared of you?” His brow arched, and I could tell I was losing him. “What do you know?” I clarified. 

 Another drag and his shoulders straightened. “Thought you were flatterin’ me there for a second.” Something glimmered in his eyes, something just beyond the surface, and I looked away before I could see anything more than friendly. “Can I ask you somethin’ in return?” 

 I nodded. 

 “Why do you want to know?” he murmured. 

 “I just want to understand.”

 “Mm,” he hummed, the treble of his voice like slow-spilling silk. “Curiosity killed the cat.” 

 I swallowed a little too loudly, but his words hit a little too closely. 

 “S’all right,” he continued. “S’human nature t’want to understand.” He cocked his head a little. “I actually met Harry before school started during the summer. I was working at Hilltop Resort.”

 “Really?” 

 “I was his server.” He let out a short breath as if he couldn’t believe it happened. “Tipped well, actually.” 

 “I remember you working there!” Faint summer memories of Renny whisking us away for lunch on our treat yourself day came back, stirring faint feelings of happiness. It seemed so long ago. I felt like I’d aged five years in three months. “So let me get this straight. He doesn’t like you because you’re in the service industry?” I spat.

 He winced. “No, s’more like…” He took a breath. “There was a coworker of mine. He wasn’t mean, but he wasn’t exactly nice either. Kept to himself on breaks, never really chatted with any of us except to flirt with the bartender. Anyway, I used to see Harry a lot there, but when Jack got promoted Harry’d only sit in Jack’s section.”

 I crossed my arms, the night time air finally sinking in. 

 “I didn’t think too much of it at first,” he admitted. The cigarette moved in his mouth, hand fiddling with the lighter. “But one night I was running out to give a guest the card they’d left behind, but I saw them together instead.” 

 Before I could picture Harry and Zayn’s coworker making out against the wall, he continued - “He was giving Harry stacks of cash.”

 Flashbacks of Viv trying to pass Harry money in the Catalina Island bar played out like a movie in my mind. 

 “What’d you do?” I pressed.

 He shrugged. “I saw Harry slip something else in his pocket. It looked like a little bag. Must’ve been a bonus.” He muttered the last words. 

 “A bonus for what?” 

 “I didn’t know then. I just thought he’d somehow found a way to steal from the manager’s safe and was splitting the profits.”

 “Why give it to Harry though?” 

 “That’s what I couldn’t figure out.” He leaned in. “I saw them together a few more times. The second was an accident. Third, not so much. Harry saw me that time. Then before I left for the night, I searched his locker. Took me a while, but I found some pills. Little bag of coke, too. He came in right when I was putting it back.” 

 “No.” 

 “Yeah. He didn’t say anything. Just stared at me like he was going to kill me. I got my shit and got the hell out of there. Next day, the boss said they received a tip to check my locker and they found the drugs in mine. You know the fucked up bit? I was fired.” 

 “But it wasn’t yours!” 

 “Doesn’t matter. Still found it there.” Zayn stamped out his cigarette, blowing away the last smoke. I guess pity was etched in my face, because he suddenly turned defensive. “Don’t look at me like that. I work at Javier’s now. I’m fine.” 

 Javier’s was the fancy Mexican restaurant overlooking the Pacific. He was doing more than fine.

 “That’s still not fair to you,” I muttered.

 “I didn’t want to be involved, anyway. S’better I left one way or another.” 

 “What was his name again? Your coworker’s?”

 “Jack.” 

 Jack. Why did that sound so familiar? 

 “He’s not sound, you know,” Zayn added. 

 “Well clearly if he gave you murder eyes.” 

 “No, not Jack. Harry. He’s not…”

 “Sound,” I repeated. The word felt heavy on my tongue.

 Zayn nodded, tucking a cigarette behind his ear.

 “I can’t believe Harry got you fired.” 

 “Well, I don’t exactly know. Jack must’ve been the one to move the drugs into my locker.”

 “Yeah, but who told him to?”

 Zayn didn’t answer. The facts had been there this entire time, but I didn’t want to see it. I still didn’t want to see it. But Zayn was here, undeniably linking them together for me. Harry and drugs and money were three things that’d been circulating in the same place much longer than I could know. For some reason beyond me, Harry was a dealer. Or ran as head of them. Which meant his association with the men who’d assaulted me was… what? A business deal gone wrong?

 “England’s a small country, you see the same faces everywhere. Like here, if you’re perceptive enough. And in each, he’s jus’... involved in something bigger, while at the same time trying to hide. S’like he’s a magnet for infamy to his own detriment.” 

 “Are you referring to his adoption?” 

 He twisted the cigarette behind his ear, realizing I didn’t really need an answer to this question and that now I was just testing him for what he knew. “Contrary to what he may believe, I don’t know everything.” 

 But I couldn’t fight the feeling that he was talking about me. Smooth artist’s fingers fiddled with the lighter again, but he didn’t light the second cigarette. He knew more than what he was telling me. 

 But even the new me didn’t want to hear much else tonight.  

 “You don’t want to stay?” he asked.

 I didn’t realize I was walking towards the door ‘til his words stopped me in my tracks. Disappointment tinged his words. I felt a little guilty, heading out the door as soon as I’d gotten what I’d needed. 

 But I was tired. And sadly, unless there was a sketch pad in front of him, I didn’t know what else we could talk about. I didn’t know what else he’d see. 

 I shook my head, and he lit the cigarette, not bothering to walk me out. 

 ------

Racing down the spindly halls, my heart pounded out of my chest. I heard the cries above the whispers of the Watchers, and they grew louder with a sickening urgency. A gutteral wailing meant for me. 

 I looked down the hall, awaiting the dark shadow to appear from the walls, when he’d creep closer, suffocatingly closer. 

 The door wouldn’t open, not past an inch. 

 But he called for me, this time. My name fell from unseen lips.

 “Y/N,” he called. It was hoarse. He was scared. I’d never heard that cry before. This time it wasn’t solid air the door was against - it was pills. Tiny pills, hundreds of them, thousands of them, multiplying on top of each other until they filled what I could see of the room. Until they were spilling out the crack. 

 “Y/N!!!” His voice was panicked, but muffled. It was muffled now. Why wasn’t he opening the door?? Why couldn’t he reach me?? The shadow drew closer. It surrounded me, outside, every inch of the hall covered by darkness. 

 My heartbeat was the only sound. 

 A waterfall of pills. The glint of a knife. 

 I couldn’t reach him in time. 

 I couldn’t save Harry. 

 I couldn’t even save myself.