#makeshiftneverland

I bite my lip, lifting a hand in an awkward wave for the camera that Harry has focused, his finger pressing the shutter button repeatedly. Niall’s looking at me, eyebrow raised and mouth upturned in a suspicious smile. I settle on placing a hand on my hip and beaming, trying to get the hang of this whole taking photos before shows thing. My costume glows in the dressing room light. I’m excited.

“Selena looks great.” Harry grins, turning to his bandmate. “I want to capture tonight’s memories. It’ll be her first time playing Madison Square Garden.”

My fingers tremble at the reminder. Gosh, tonight was the night.

“Right,” Niall scoffs, turning pointedly to me. “That’s right, Harry wants to take an innocent photo of you to celebrate MSG. Except he’s not taking one photo, he’s taking one thousand.”

“You make it sound ridiculous!” Harry protests. “What, have you not heard of friends supporting each other, Ni? Just because you’re not supporting her doesn’t mean I’m not going to be as supportive as I can.”

“I am supporting her!”

“No you’re not! You’re going to make some crude joke about me jacking off to these photos when it isn’t true.”

I feel my cheeks flush, my body buzzing with a different sort of nervous energy. “Come on boys,” I interrupt, or they’d squabble for days. I also don’t feel like entertaining thoughts of Harry jacking off, let alone to photos of me. “Let’s take a selfie for my Instagram. I’m due on stage in five.”

We squeeze together on the sofa as I try to get all three of our faces in the picture, and I’m surprised when Harry buries his face in my curls, nose pressing against my cheek in a sort-of kiss. If my face weren’t loaded with stage makeup, my cheeks would be notably red.

I’m bouncing with nerves when I step to the side entrance, my heart pounding in my chest. This is it. The night I’d dreamt of, thought of, analyzed to death and tried to prepare for. I knew that stage like the back of my hand, memorized every curve of my wrist in the choreography, every longing stare timed to the beat for the cameras.

The heat of the lights warm the air.

It’s my cue.

  -O-

 I cannot be consoled.

“Love, it’s alright.” The side of the armchair in my dressing room dips down, Liam’s familiar voice filling my ears. “Things like this happen, and they don’t mean anything in the long run.”

“Yeah,” Zayn echoes. I look up to find him standing at the door, foot tucked behind the other nervously. I don’t blame him for being wary. A girl sobbing for a solid hour is probably something he doesn’t deal with often. “We’ve forgotten lyrics before, Sel. People get over it. They forget.”

Hearing him say it out loud makes the tears flow harder. I had forgotten lyrics. To my own single, my lips stumbling over the wrong words as the crowd had chanted the right ones back at me. And I hadn’t even taken it in stride. My features had fallen into a look of horror that was mirrored on each of the massive three screens, a collective gasp echoing through the venue. I wasn’t an established artist. I couldn’t afford to make these stupid, rookie mistakes. I can almost envision my career crumbling.

“Babe.” Liam tucks an arm around me, half-heartedly stroking running up my back. “I know you’re shaken up, but you can’t let this define you. You can’t let this performance define you. You’re human. You slip up sometimes.”

“You’re also working really hard,” Niall adds. “It’s been a really hard tour and we’re almost at the end. You’re losing steam, like everyone is. I almost missed my solo this show.”

“Stop making excuses for her.”

The sound of Harry’s voice makes me cringe, my fingers tightening around my face. Gosh, I’m a fucking mess. I’d hoped that he wouldn’t catch wind of this, spend his evening busy eating late-night catering in the lounge.

Nobody says anything back to him, probably as surprised as I am that he’s said something so heartless. I’m surprised when I feel nothing but appreciation. The insistence that my mistakes don’t need to be justified means a lot. Makes me think that maybe it doesn’t need to be chased away with reasons, but simply forgotten. I tuck my legs into my chest, hoping that they’ll take it as a sign to leave me alone.

“Maybe we should go,” Zayn says from his spot at the door. “I hope you feel better, Selena.”

“Thanks,” I mumble into my knees, not willing to raise my makeup-smeared face.

I hear the boys pad softly out the door, but there’s someone still in the room, breathing so light and I’m surprised that I recognize it. I’ve obviously spent too much time watching them during vocal rehearsals.

“You can go too, Harry.”

“Don’t really want to,” he says back, and I feel the couch dip with his weight. “What was the song?”

“Distraction.”

He makes a soft amused sound. “Hard song. Lots of lyrics that come really fast with the hook. Big belt in the pre-chorus too – hard to go into it straight from the verse, because you need all that momentum and you barely have a second to get a full breath of air. I hate when you have to hit every little beat with a syllable because then the words get mixed up in your brain. You’re too busy trying to keep up.”

I stay silent, not sure why he’s still here. He was the one who said to stop making excuses for me. Everything he’s said is true, but that’s my job, isn’t it? Come through always, even when it’s hard?

“But I’m not here to make excuses,” Harry chuckles, reading my mind. “You shouldn’t have made that mistake, babe. Lyrics are something you need committed to memory, written on your heart. Engrave them on your palms. It’s a sign of professionalism to know your own song.”

“I know that,” I say bitterly, slightly more upset. He didn’t need to tell me those things. It’s why I’m crying in the first place.

“Get your face out of your hands, come on.” He tugs lightly on my arm. “Lou will have a fit with what you’re doing with your pores, smothering them that way when they already need to breathe every moment possible.”

I shake my head, pulling away from him. God, no.

“Is it because your makeup is all smudged? Come on,” he laughs softly. “Who cares? I can’t talk to you when you’re a little ball of black velvet. Straighten out. Look human.”

Reluctantly, I lift my head, trying not to cringe.

Harry bursts into laughter, and a small smile spreads on my face. “You look like a panda!” he chortles, dropping his head to my shoulder.

“Stop it.” I smile. I look ridiculous and I’m exhausted from crying, but his joy is infectious. “What do you even want to talk to me about? There’s nothing to say.”

“There’s plenty to say,” Harry counters, lifting his head and running a hand through his long curls. “I think you’re better than what happened tonight. All the things the boys were saying is true, but I think you just need to put a bit of work in, is all. It’s the breathing, isn’t it?”

I swallow hard, nodding. I wish my label hadn’t chosen such a difficult song for a single. “I’m just so focused on getting that breath in every single time. I feel like I’m hyperventilating when I get to that chorus. Do you know what I mean? Like you’re just gasping and it’s like fuck the words I need to just not fall over right now.”

“Do you know the show Red and Black?”

I shake my head. “I’m American, remember?”

“Well, back when we were just starting out, our first television appearance of What Makes You Beautiful was on that show. I was breathing really hard too. Gasping in my solo. I was shaking like a leaf. Didn’t even have to do any sexy choreo like you’ve got in Distraction.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“No, don’t be. I’m not sorry that you forgot the words tonight either.” Harry looks at me thoughtfully. “You know what you need to learn this early in your career? You can’t be lazy, Sel. You need to learn the right breathing in that song. It doesn’t matter that you’ve aced it and managed to get through until now. It doesn’t matter that it’s hard or that you’re tired. You need to get all the breathing right so you have the brainpower to remember the lyrics, to engage with your audience.”

I sit up, listening. I’m grateful for any experience Harry has to offer. Sometimes we’re so silly with each other that I forget he’s so wise, that he’s worlds ahead of me in this industry, that he’s thoughtful and reflective and a professional to the core. “Okay,” I promise. “I’ll work on it tomorrow morning before the next show.” I want nothing more than to fix this, make sure it never happens again. This offer makes me feel worlds better, like I’m actually moving forward.

“I’ll work with you. 8 AM. I’ll listen to you and we’ll work out where you need to breathe and make sure you’re breathing from the right places.”

I eye him warily at the mention of the time. Harry likes sleeping in and will probably be late. As much as I want to work with him, I don’t want to be distracted. I can already envision him staggering in late in his joggers and probably no shirt, bowl of blueberries in hand and curls everywhere. “Fine,” I concede. “But you have to come on time. You never come on time for things like these.”

“What, for things with you?” Harry plays mock offense. “I always come on time for you.”

“No, things that aren’t work-related. You’re always late. You need to come on time tomorrow, because the show is earlier. You can survive with a little less sleep. Just set an alarm and come.”

Harry’s expression turns into a naughty smirk, eyes sparkling. “Oh, I’ll come tomorrow. I’ll make sure you come first, though. But you won’t have to wait long for me.”

I stare at him, stunned and speechless. That came out of nowhere, but Harry’s humour is never really normal. Was he making a dirty joke?

“Sorry,” Harry says sheepishly. “That was rude.”

My mind is racing, still unsure what he means. “What—what was that?”

“I made a horrible, inappropriate joke.” Harry sighs, watching me. “I’m sorry.”

“You are so weird!”

“Sorry.”

“Where did that even come from? We were talking about a work meeting!”

“’M sorry,” Harry protests. “I was being a lad.”

We sit there in silence for a few moments.

“I’m going to bed,” I say finally, rubbing at my panda-eyes. “Thanks for offering to help me, H.”

“Of course. I believe in you, Sel. You can figure this song out, hard or not.” He pauses for a moment, giving me a puppy look. “Can I give you a kiss goodbye?”

“Britishisms.” I roll my eyes, but tilt my head. I won’t deny I enjoyed these British kisses.

Harry plants one on my cheek, before making a big show of sputtering and choking, complaining about my heavy stage makeup. “I think I’ve eaten some! Isn’t this toxic? Selena Adair, I could die! You’ll owe my label seven million pounds!”

“Shut up!” I laugh, before gesturing for him to tilt his head. “Wrong cheek,” I chastise, when he offers me the side without the big dimple. “You know better by now.”

I plant a hearty kiss on his dimple before getting to my feet. “Night, Harry.”

“G’night.”

-O-

 “Who gave you the right to post that photo?” I huff a few days later, planting my hands on my hips. “And you normally don’t even use emojis!”

Harry gives me a shy little smile, his cheeks dimpling sweetly. He plays with one of his in-ears, sipping from an enormous glass of banana smoothie. “I said I’d post a photo of you because the tour is almost over! You said that was okay.”

“You didn’t tell me it was that one!” I stare at my phone screen again, my face flushing. It was a photo from the one time Harry and I had slept in the same bed – not slept together, slept in the same bed – when management had messed up and hadn’t booked enough hotel suites in Vegas. I’m curled up asleep in the photograph, drooling on my pillow. He had kindly captioned it All Selena does on this tour, and added three Zzz emojis with a big pink heart at the end.

“I told you I would post it!”

“I didn’t think you were serious!” I stomp over to him until we’re nose to nose, giving him my very best glare. “You will take down this slander, Harry Styles.”

“Won’t.” He grins.

“Will.”

“Can you guys just fuck already?” Niall says from the table, causing us both to turn and glare at him. He shoves more cereal into his mouth, before giving us a What? look. “The sexual tension is so thick and I’ve had enough of your shit. We’ve got two more weeks of this tour and I can’t watch any more of this. Brianne’s got lots of condoms in her room. You just have to ask.”

“Why does Brianne have condoms in her room?” Harry says, zeroing in on the most important information.

“Because our stylist can have condoms if she wants to!” Niall rolls his eyes, shrugging. “Did you not know about this, Harry?”

“No!” He looks genuinely upset. “I’ve been buying all my condoms and that’s such a shame if there were free ones!”

I squirm, the fact that Harry’s been having sex making me a tiny bit jealous. I had no idea he was, and we spend a lot of time together. He hasn’t mentioned anything. Then again, I don’t know why he even would.

“But you know,” Harry sighs, a soft groan escaping his lips, “not like I’ve even used the ones I bought.”

My heart soars. So he hasn’t been having sex. I feel guilty for being happy, because I shouldn’t be mad about him having sex. That is his own private thing. I clear my throat, trying to return to the salient issue at hand. “To pay me back for the damage to my reputation Styles, I get to tweet from your account.”

“Okay,” Harry says easily, slipping a hand into the pocket of his jeans for his phone. My eyes follow the movement instinctively, and I almost choke. Did he have to wear jeans so tight? They literally framed the outline of his dick, and I could see the way it tucked slightly to the left, the bulge looking bulgier than usual. “Here.” He types his passcode in, before handing me the iPhone. “Do what you like, love.”

I blush, before sitting down giddily. I open up his Twitter and tweet a hearty, “Going for the baby Tarzan look today” with an added peace sign. I blink a few times, staring at his updated dash, and the notifications alert me to the fact that it’s already received five hundred retweets. Chuckling, I hand his phone back.

He reads my little sentiment, brow furrowing into a small crease. “Selena Adair, you are paying for this!”

I dash away, before he can attempt to smother me with an aggressive hug.

-O-

 My hair fights me as I attempt to force it into a ponytail for the third time. My workout has left it all fluffy and volumized and it refuses to be tamed. I’m walking quickly through the hotel halls, ears open for any sound of the boys jamming or horsing around. I left for a choreography routine practice this morning, followed by workout, and I have no idea where they are.

“Hi!” I greet Lou, when I find her in the prep suite. She’s got thirty bottles of hair product on the table, trying to organize them all into some sort of system.

“Looking for Harry?” she says as she smiles.

“Not really,” I mumble. “Do you know where all the boys are?”

“They should be around in one of the rooms,” Lou replies. “Don’t think any of them meant to leave, and they shouldn’t because we’re due at the venue in a couple hours.”

“Thanks.” I smile, making my loop around the floor again. I wonder where they are. I’m surprised when I hear Louis’ familiar shout down the hall that I haven’t gone down. Do they have a room down there? I have no idea. It turns out to be a stairwell, the boys seated in different corners and on steps. I’m about to round the corner and say hello, when their conversation topic stops me.

“You like her, Harry. Don’t even deny it.”

“We’re really good friends! We get on. Of course I like her.”

“Not like that.” Liam sounds tired. “You should ask her to dinner and see what she says.”

“That wouldn’t even help,” Louis retorts. “They have dinner all the time, curled up in a corner whispering things into each other’s ears.”

“I’m 90% sure you guys have fucked.” Zayn lets out a soft giggle, sounding highly amused.

“I’m 90% sure they have not,” Niall replies. “Have you seen how they interact? No outlet for that Zayn. It’s all bottled up inside.”

My heart is pounding in my chest, the thrum loud in my ears. They were talking about me. Talking about me. And Harry. I’m suddenly terrified that they’ll find me here, listening in and trapped like a deer in headlights.

“Okay, you all need to stay out of my business!” Harry interrupts. “Selena and I aren’t like that. We’re just friends and we’re happy like that.”

“Fine,” Louis says with a challenging tone. “I’m going to see if she wants to come for a walk with me tonight.”

“A walk?” Harry gawks. “What even is that? What are you trying to do, Louis?”

“I’m going after Selena,” he says easily. “You said you guys were just friends. Put in a good word for me, will ya mate? She’s fit as hell.”

My eyes widen. I think about stepping in awkwardly and saying hello, think about feigning nonchalance and ignorance. My stomach rolls. Everything inside me wants to skitter away. I couldn’t be caught here, wouldn’t have a word to say after hearing what I’ve heard. Louis is going to ask me out? Harry--

I haven’t run away on tiptoe faster than I do in that moment.

 -O-

 “Do you ship it?”

I blink, wholly confused by what I’m seeing on my computer screen. I’d woken up early, had a few strawberries that were in the mini fridge and scrolled through my work email. It’s the Instagram feed that freaks me out the tiniest bit, as Zayn poses the question to his fifteen million followers.

“Do you ship it?”

The caption describes a photograph of Louis making bunny ears behind my head, the two of us grinning widely at the camera after the end of a good show. We look cute, but certainly not in the romantic way. I’m not quite sure about how I feel, having this question posed to the public.

I frown, trying to swallow the lump in my throat.

X makes it all disappear, at least for the moment.

 -O-

 “I fucking hate this!” I storm into Zayn’s dressing room one evening, surprised to find Louis and Liam both there. Even better. They’d agree that this is something we all need to talk about now. “This is ridiculous.”

“What is it?” Liam asks, stretched out languidly on the settee. “Everything alright?”

“No.” I frown, trying to steady my breathing. “There’s a war on Twitter between fans who support Team Louis and Team Harry and they’re fighting over me. Please take the photo down, Zayn.”

“Of course, of course.” Zayn’s eyes widen in realization. He pulls his phone out, swiping through it immediately. “I’m sorry, babe. It was all a joke. The whole thing about asking people if they ship Louis and Sel was a joke.”

“#TeamLouis and #TeamHarry,” Louis reads from his phone, groaning. “Fuck it. It’s happening.”

I bite my lip, trying not to freak out. “Why do people even ship me and Harry?”

“I think they always suspected something was going on between you two,” Liam says after a moment, looking hesitant. “You called him onstage for a duet, you’ve said that you two write together a lot. Haven’t there been a few pap photos of you two out and about, too?”

“And then the photo of me and you came out.” Louis sighs. “I guess that was enough reason for them to think that we’re squabbling over you.”

“Are you?” I can’t help the question spilling out of me, the directness of it clearly surprising everyone in the room. It’s a question I’ve been wanting to ask, but never having the nerve. I’ve seen the subtle tension when Louis tries to make a move, Harry pausing a moment before stepping to the side, a wary smile on his face. I’ve no idea where I stand with either of them.

“No…?” Louis trails off. “I think?”

“Okay. So neither of you are interested in me.”

“Well, I--” Louis pauses, looking caught. “I don’t like you that way, no. But we all think Harry might, maybe. At least, we’ve been teasing him about it. The whole plan to make him jealous was just playing off of that. You’ll have to ask him, I guess.”

“Okay,” I mumble, already tired and the show hasn’t even begun. “I’ll see if I can find him before soundcheck.”

 -O-

 I don’t expect Harry to be so upset.

“I hate how they make it seem like we’re fighting over you, like you’re a prize or something!”

I also don’t expect to be the one trying to calm him down.

“Everybody just wants to be in our business, and it’s bullshit!”

“Harry, everything’ll blow over. Don’t worry. You, Louis, and Zayn have all tweeted about it and people are calming down. #TeamHarry isn’t even trending anymore.”

“Yeah, but #TeamLouis is,” Harry snaps, a conflicted look crossing his face.

“Okay, about that.” I fiddle with the rings on my fingers, trying to figure out how to phrase everything correctly. “Do you--do you like me, Harry? As more than a friend? Because that’s what Louis said.”

Harry glares at me. “Louis isn’t minding his own business; nobody is! If we get together, we get together. We don’t need everyone and a half’s opinion on it, and we don’t need any help!”

I almost choke. “Is that, uh, a yes?”

“I don’t know,” Harry groans, running a hand angrily through his hair. “I don’t know, Sel.”

“Oh.” I’m not sure how I feel about him either, don’t know if I’d like to sit down and think through and put a finger on it all. I wonder what this means. “There aren’t any feelings…?”

“There aren’t any feelings?” Harry says, with a questioning tone.

I clear my throat. “There aren’t any feelings…?” I repeat, having no idea whether we’re answering or not. I have no idea why it even matters, why I’m just standing here agape repeating the same question while he parrots it. “Just--everything will be fine, H. I’ve got to warm up.”

“Yeah, go warm up,” he echoes, looking at a spot above my head. I guess the conversation is over.

“Uh, okay.”

“Okay.”

I’m almost out of the room, my steps slow and hesitant at the door.

“Can I get back to you on that?” he says quietly, still not looking me in the eye.

“About what?” I breathe.

“About the feelings.”

I swallow hard. “Sure.”

I leave him there, my spine tingling with unplaced tension.

 -O-

 “I’ve missed you,” Harry says into the phone, all soft and whispery. I can almost feel his breath against my own cheek, my fingers tightening on the mic in my sweaty hands. “You’ll do lovely, Sel. Remember the right breathing. I can’t believe you’re playing Good Morning America.”

“I’m terrified,” I say honestly, sneaking a peek out at the enormous crowd that had woken up early to see me. “This is so, so real, Harry.”

“I know it’s real. Isn’t it amazing? You’ll do lovely, I know it. It’s such a big thing to play GMA.”

“I know.”

“I’ve missed you,” he says again. “You should tour with us again.”

“I should.”

“But with how big you’ve gotten, it seems like we’ll have to do a co-headline, and not any of this opener stuff.”

A smile blooms on my face. “Flattery.”

“I’m getting back to you,” he says after a moment.

“About what?”

“About feelings.”

And then suddenly the floor’s been whisked out from under my feet, the clock is ticking and telling me I’ve got seven minutes before I take the stage, and my hands are sweaty and slipping on the mic more than ever before.

“Are you still there, Sel?”

“Of course I am,” I manage. “What is it you want to say?”

“I have feelings. I have lots of feelings. I like you a lot, Selena.” He stops, and I think he’s going to say more. Except he doesn’t.

“Okay.” I’m breathless, trying to synthesize some sort of response. Did he have to talk about this minutes before I’m broadcast live to the nation?

“But I just don’t think it’s going to work. You’re so busy and I’m so busy and we’d never get to see each other. It doesn’t seem fair. I don’t even know how you feel about me. But maybe we can still see each other sometimes? Be friends?” Harry rambles out. He lets out a soft sigh. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” I say, at an utter loss of words. In thirty seconds, Harry’s managed to tell me he likes me, maybe wants to be with me, but doesn’t because he doesn’t think it’ll work. I’m still fighting to figure out where I stand with my own self. How I feel about my feelings. God, I wish I wasn’t about to go on stage, getting ready to sing something with a lot of meaning.

“What are you performing?” Harry asks, even though he already knows. I suspect he wants to change the topic.

“Distraction.” I’m glad for the song choice, wouldn’t have wanted to sing something like Stay or Hands Holding Mine. I wouldn’t be ready for that, couldn’t do that. Not with this phone call and the voice on the other end of the line.

“Good,” Harry says breathily, the sound loud in my ears.

I don’t say what I think he’s thinking. What I’m thinking.

My manager motions to me, beckoning me get off the phone and prepare during the last few minutes.

The sentiment is strong though, as I hold my mic tighter between my palms, thinking about Harry sitting down to watch me sing. I think about how people who choose this path and walk this walk don’t have it so easy, have to have conversations like this where we’re too busy and we miss each other but fuck, we have to work. We have to pull ourselves together and say goodbye.

I remember Harry telling me that he hates love songs. Hates how they remind him of everyone he had to leave behind. Hates how they mean so much, too much, but he can’t have them mean more because he’s always let go.

We must be thinking the same thought. It hurts.

The streets were buzzing and the low thrum of the bass pumped through the brick exterior of the club that the group of girls stood outside of, queued up in line and eager to get inside. She'd never done much partying back home, the constant fear of being caught drinking underage stopping her from ever bringing anything more alcoholic than a Smirnoff Ice past her lips, but here she was of age and judging by the pace her new friends were setting, she was sure this would be a regular occurrence.

"You're going to love it, Si," Lydia reassured the girl, snapping shut her compact when she'd finished tidying the coal liner beneath her baby blues. "Best way to spend the evening, hands down."

"I could probably think of some better ways," she replied under her breath, tucking her loose hair back behind her ear.

She'd allowed them to style her for the evening and that meant a tight dress that felt far too short -- "you need to show off your legs, they're gorg!" they'd insisted -- and her bleach blonde hair with rosy tint fell in waves around her painted face. Sienna'd willingly admit that she did look nice, but it wasn't necessarily a look she'd go for every day. She admired the amount of prowess it took for them, being able to pull it all off in such a short amount of time.

"Gotta get the girls out," Miranda commented, more to herself, and began adjusting the low cut of her dress to emphasize her cleavage. "Not had a proper shag in ages. Taking someone home tonight if I've got anything to say about it."

"Please go to theirs, no one wants to hear your squealing in the middle of the night," Sasha snickered, earning her a glare from the raven-haired girl beside her.

"Think you may be the one needing a shag, babe," Miranda cooed, bumping her hip into Sasha's and smirking.

The line was moving, more clubgoers being let in, and that left the four girls next in line, IDs out to show the bouncer. Quick checks of age and soon enough, their ear drums were being beaten to the tune of the EDM song coursing through the speakers.

Sienna scrunched her face, the noise grating. The energy of everybody squished together in the dance floor was almost electric, but Sienna couldn't see herself pressed up against anybody, let alone a complete stranger like her friends intended, but she knew that she'd have to make the most of the time there if she was going to make it through the semester.

Despite the music blaring, Sienna took the chance to look around and take in the club. It was mostly dark, save for the flashing colorful lights that flickered to the beat of the music. She was about to make a comment to the girls in front of her when she noticed a group of four guys in the corner of the room in a booth.

They looked to be about the same age as the girls, three with brown hair and the last with a shade of blonde similar to the one she had when she didn't decide to add a color for a change, but the one that caught her attention the most was the one with the loose curls that fell around his face and sheer button up shirt.

"Hey Lydia?" Sienna called forward, catching the girl's attention and stopping her in their trek to the bar.

"What is it, love?" She asked, leaning in so she could hear better.

"Do you recognize those guys over there?" She asked, motioning in the direction of the booth.

Lydia looked towards where Sienna was pointing and squinted her eyes, taking in their features with an inquisitive look. "I don't think so, but they're quite adorable. You've got your eye on one of them?"

Sienna sensed the teasing tone in her roommate's voice and gave a quick shrug. She didn't want to give away that the features of the long-haired boy had caught her attention almost immediately. "Not really, I was just wondering."

"Sure you don't," Lydia laughed, reaching out to grab the other girl's hand. "By the end of the night, you're gonna go up and talk to one of them!"

"Over my dead body, maybe!" Sienna retorted, sending a playful glare in her direction.

Sienna and Lydia followed the other two towards the bar, her hand secured tightly in Lydia's as they forced their way through the crowd. With one last look in their direction, Sienna took in the sight of the beautiful stranger and -- wait, was he looking this way?

She didn't have time to linger on that fact before they'd regrouped with the others, taking up all of her attention. Sasha had already opened a tab and ordered two shots of some strange looking liquor for each of them. By the time the last two girls arrived, the drinks were set out on the polished surface and arranged to each

"Okay!" Miranda called out over the music to get everyone's attention, handing everyone a small glass filled with some foul smelling liquid inside. "Drink up, girls. Tonight's Sienna's first night here and we're gonna celebrate properly."

"To Sienna!" The three cheered, toasting and downing the first shot.

Sienna hesitated, sniffing the drink before bringing it to her lips. The bitter taste burned its way down her throat and she has to resist the impulse to gag. "What even is this?"

"Fireball," Sasha laughed. "Hell of a first drink, eh?"

"You can say that again," she laughed low, shaking her head and setting the glass aside.

The second round of shots were downed and before she knew it, Sienna was the last one remaining by the bar as the other girls were whisked away to the dance floor by various guys who had caught their attention. She insisted she didn't mind, since it gave her a chance to wash away the terrible aftertaste lingering on her tongue and assess her surroundings.

"Could I get a Sprite?" She asked, the bartender nodding and fulfilling her request, sliding the glass across the bar.

"Not a partier?"

"Not at all," she responded with a soft laugh, picking up the drink and taking a sip of the lemon-lime soda. "Thank you."

Turning back around to look over the swarm of bodies, her eyes went wide when she came face-to-chest with a rather tall individual. She brought her eyes up and immediately recognized the chocolate curls, now accompanied by a confident smirk on his extra pink lips.

"My mates bet me that I wouldn't be able to start a conversation with the most beautiful girl in the place," he started, thrusting his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the others. "Wanna buy some drinks with their money?"

Sienna was speechless. Not only was the cute guy from across the bar standing right in front of her, but he was actually hitting on her too. Was this some sort of strange, incredibly realistic daydream, like she was so prone to in her high school years?

"I, uh..." She began, trailing off when she realized she really had no idea what to say. More often than not, the guys who would hit on her were subpar at best and she'd be able to politely decline, but how could she do that to a face like this. "As long as it's not Fireball."

"No Fireball, check," the curly-haired boy drawled in his thick northern accent, chuckling and then looking in the direction of where he'd been with his friends, sending them a wink. "Could I get you something more palatable? Another one of whatever you're having now?"

"Sprite? Sure," Sienna responded, nervous high-pitched laughter leaving her. He grinned, amused at her comment, and that action alone was enough to raise a rosy tint to her cheeks. "I mean, unless you wanted to go with something else. That's fine too."

"Let's try something different, yeah?" He suggested. With that, he leaned against the bar, bicep on full display, and ordered her some drink with an odd name she'd only heard in movies and on television and a rum and coke for himself. "M'Harry, by the way."

"What?" Sienna was caught off guard by the statement, still trying to compose herself in front of him. "I'm hairy? I shaved, I swear. Did I miss a spot?"

Laughter fell from his lips and a dimple pressed into his cheek, face scrunched and emphasizing the crinkles of his eyes. "I'm sure you're far from hairy, love. I said my name is Harry."

"Oh." Well, this was awkward. "It's nice to meet you, Harry. I'm Sienna."

"Not from around here, are you?" He asked, leaning against the bar. That action was enough to allow his shirt to ride up ever so slightly and it gave her a good view of the toned physique hidden underneath. She couldn't help but stare and he caught her almost immediately, smirk twisting the corner of his mouth upward. "Have I distracted you?"

"I'm so sorry, I just -- I'm so embarrassing, wow. Please ignore me, I don't know how to act around attractive guys," she stuttered, waving her hand dismissively.

"Least I know you find me attractive now. Makes things a bit easier," he chuckled, hoping he'd lighten the mood some.

Standing straight once more when the bartender brought over their drinks, he handed over the cocktail to her and took his own glass, raising it to his lips. "Tell me what you think. If you like it, I'll get you another."

Sienna nodded and took a sip, the fruity flavors the first thing she noticed. In fact, they were the only thing she noticed.

"Is there even alcohol in this?" She asked, brow raised as she looked towards him sipping on his own drink.

"Yeah. Tastes good though, doesn't it?" He asked, grinning. He seemed proud of himself for his choice, at least from what Sienna could tell.

"These could be dangerous," she commented with a laugh, taking another sip and humming low to herself. "But... I think I'd be good with at least two more."

"Two more for the lady!" Harry called to the bartender once more and he chuckled, looking towards her. "You here with anyone?"

"Mhm." She nodded, swallowing. "My new roommates. They decided that dragging me out the night before school starts would be a good idea."

"Not what I had in mind, but solid answer," he remarked, shrugging. "This is where everybody who's anybody comes night before uni starts, so good on them for making you part of it."

Harry's comment made Sienna's brows furrow together in confusion. "Then what did you have in mind?"

"Meant if you came with anyone in a romantic sense," he said slowly, as if beating around the bush.

"Are you asking if I have a boyfriend?" Sienna bit her lip.

"Significant other, yeah." Harry's eyes landed on hers, an almost hopeful gaze if ever there was one.

"I do not have one, no," she responded, a coy smile coming to her face. "Why do you ask?"

"'Cos it'd be rather unfortunate if you did and I asked if you wanted to get outta here in a few. Be a bit bummed, y'know," he explained casually, finishing off his drink.

Sienna didn't know what to say. She'd never been put on this position before. The last time she hooked up with someone, it was an unexpected thing resulting from a frustration-induced adrenaline high, but now she had the option of saying yes or no -- was she really even considering saying no? -- and she didn't know how to process the events that led up to this moment properly.

"I... Would like that very much." Yeah, that was a good answer, she thought.

A playful grin came to both of their faces and once a few more drinks were downed, the two of them were back out into the crisp air of the night, making their way towards Harry's flat that he kept insisting was only a few blocks away with every block they walked. He kept his arm around her the whole time, leaving her tucked into his side due to her short stature, but she didn't mind it. They arrived at the building and once he managed to find his keys, they headed inside, Harry tugging her in along behind him.

"Now that we're all alone..." Harry's words trailed as he snaked his arm around her waist, pulling her in and ducking his face down closer to hers. She could smell the alcohol on his breath, but she wasn't nearly sober enough to do anything but find it arousing. "May I kiss you?"

"I love that you asked," Sienna responded, then leaned in to close the gap between them.

Their lips met and though the kiss began slow, they quickly built momentum until their tongues were brushing against each other in a heated liplock. Harry lifted her from the ground, his arm tight around her waist and other hand grasping at her backside to help hold her up. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, fingers slipping through his curls and deepening the kiss that much more.

"M'gonna... M'gonna bring you to m'room," he mumbled against her lips, kissing her again before he carefully made his trek up the short staircase.

Sienna barely acknowledged his comment with a soft hum, her lips trailing from his down his jawline. Harry let out a soft groan at the feeling of her teeth grazing along the sensitive skin of his neck, the motion only prompting him to move faster.

He pushed the door open before the two stumbled onto the mattress, kicking off whatever dirty clothes were hanging on the edge as their hands began to roam each other's bodies.

Sienna's immediately moved to the front of his shirt, fumbling to undo the buttons from top to bottom, but Harry's hand dipping beneath her skirt and lifting it up her thigh proved to be more of a distraction than she'd anticipated. She whimpered in frustration, pouting at the shirt once she'd managed to get only a handful of the buttons opened.

"Stupid shirt," she mumbled, tugging to try and remove the remaining obstacles to no avail.

"Excuse you, I like this shirt," he commented with a small laugh, reaching up and swiftly undoing the rest with one hand as the other gave her thigh a squeeze.

"Do you do this often?" She asked while watching him pull the fabric off and toss it.

"Really wanna know the answer to that?" He asked, leaning back down though he didn't bring his hand or lips back against her skin, waiting for an answer on her part.

Sienna paused, looking over his face for a few moments. Did she care of he slept with a lot of other people? It's not like it affected her in any way. They weren't dating, nor did he have to answer if he didn't want to, but he was willing and that was enough.

She shook her head before leaning back in to capture his lips, bringing forth a moan from him as he returned it eagerly.

The night carried on like this until the wee hours of the morning, the sexual desire mixed with bumped heads and elated laughter. Sienna wasn’t sure when she’d fallen, but when the sun peeked through the thin curtains the next morning and cast itself across her face, she knew that it had been way too late for a school day.

Groaning, she slowly blinked awake, the throbbing pain in her head a reminder of the previous night’s events. Her foggy mind thought back over everything, remembering the dimple-cheeked grin of the boy she’d gone home with last night most clearly. She looked to her left, expecting to see those broad shoulders and back of his bared towards her, only to see that the boy she’d been with the night before was gone.

“Oh…” She mumbled, a soft frown turning her lips.

She didn’t know what she’d expected. It wasn’t like this was anything more than a hook up. She was sure she’d probably never see him again either, unless she went back to the club and fate happened to be kind to her. It would be weird to show back up at his flat without any sort of warning beforehand, wouldn’t it? Maybe she could leave her number for him on the off chance he wanted to reach her too.

Sighing, she shifted to sit up and grabbed her purse from where it sat on the ground, holding the sheet that covered her up against her chest to keep it covered for her own sake. Her lock screen was littered with texts from her roommates, asking where she was, if she was coming home, and generally worried over her safety. She responded to one, let them know she was fine, and went back to the home screen.

Her eyes immediately noticed a bright red notification over top of her reminders app and her eyes went wide.

“Shit, I’m going to be late!”

She threw the covers off of her and frantically searched the ground for her clothes among the mess they’d made -- or had it been there before and she simply hadn’t noticed in the heat of everything? -- and managed to locate her underwear and that was about it. Frustrated and with no time to waste, she pulled some clothes out from his drawers and made a mental note to return them later as she slipped on a ratty old Rolling Stones t-shirt and a pair of black skinny jeans, grabbing her purse, and darting out of the flat.

She darted down the back streets of London towards the campus, chest heaving with the force of her labored breathing. She was certain she’d pass out by the time she made it to the lecture hall.

Weaving in and out of students that littered the walkways, she made her way up the steps and into the building, swiftly moving down the hall.

"Where is it...?" She murmured under her breath, looking over the room numbers. They grew higher and higher and she was convinced she had the wrong building until she reached the end of the hall where the double doors leading into the hall stood tall.

She slowed to a stop and gulped down a few breaths, coming her fingers through to calm her windswept hair. When she felt she didn't look like a complete mess, she slipped into the back of the room, found a space in the last row of chairs, and settled in as quietly as she possibly could.

The class was well under way when she walked in, the professor explaining a partner project that would take up a lot of the time of the semester. A few people turned to look at her, but she kept her head down and slipped over towards the last row of seats to find one of the few remaining empty ones at the back of the classroom. She took a seat and it wasn’t even another minute later when the door opened again, catching her attention.

Looking over her shoulder, she took in the figure of the person who just walked in the door and her eyes went wide when she noticed a familiar head of tousled chocolate curls. He closed the door as quietly as he could before his eyes locked with hers, bringing a soft smirk to his face, then walked over towards her and plopped down into the seat beside her.

“So nice of you both to join us,” the professor called out towards them, to which Harry sent a nod down towards him before the professor continued on with his instructions.

“What are you doing here?” Sienna hissed under her breath, confusion written all across her features.

Harry raised a single finger to his lips to shush her, opening up his backpack and pulling out a small plastic container and a fork of the same material before setting it onto the desk over her lap. “This is my class too. You left before I could bring your breakfast to you,” he whispered. “Hope you’re hungry.”

Sienna looked down at the container for a moment, brows furrowed. Slipping the top open, inside were scrambled eggs, bacon, and two slices of toast with tiny containers of butter and jam tucked into the corner. She looked over to him and noticed the smile on his face, though he was looking forward and focused on the professor as he spoke.

“Thank you,” she finally said after a few moments, smiling some.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, chancing a quick glance in her direction out of the corner of his eye, smile growing. “Nice shirt, by the way.”

Sienna’s face turned a rosy shade of red and she looked away again, her hair falling in curtains around her face to keep him from seeing the blush. “I’ll return it soon, I just couldn’t go to class in what I wore las--”

“Shh, s’alright,” he reassured her, placing his hand onto her leg and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Looks better on you anyway.”

“Since you two seem to have so much to contribute already to this project discussion, why don’t you work together on this, hmm?” the professor spoke, clearly exasperated at the fact that the two were continuously interrupting him.

“Sorry, sir,” Harry spoke up. “Won’t happen again.”

“It had better not,” he warned, then returned to his notes.

Harry looked over to Sienna with an amused smirk. “So… wanna meet at mine later then? Work on this project and all.”