"Happy Birthday!"
I flinched, looking up from my bowl of cereal at the sudden chant before me. My eyes landed on Sarah, who stood behind Elin with a wide grin on her face. A puzzled expression crossed my own face, as I sat across from the pair of them.
Elin and I had met up in the hotel for an early breakfast that morning. Elin was somebody who tended to wake up early, anyway, and in my case - I hadn't really slept at all.
It wasn't like I hadn't tried. But the moment I'd gotten back to the hotel, into my own space, my mind was entirely occupied by Harry. Each time I closed my eyes, all I saw was him on the stage in front of me; his eyes fluttering closed, his microphone grasped between his fingers, "Do you think I'm cool, too? Or am I too into you?"
I hadn't had a chance to speak to him once the show ended. Even upon the finishing of this new song, I'd sort of frozen in place - unsure of whether to return to my main spot, where I usually would start off, or to try and shift myself back around to follow his movements for the rest of his set, accordingly. But I felt as if I didn't trust myself to move, unable to force everything that had just happened from my mind. What was that?
Harry was not interested in me. I knew that. That was how I wanted it - so why could I not stop analysing the entire events of that evening?
I wondered if it was deliberate, that he hadn't spoken to me after the show. Of course, it wasn't, he just had other things to do. As soon as we'd gotten onto the tour bus, Harry appeared to fall asleep in his chair; now wearing a baggy hoodie and some sweatpants, free of the extravagance of his stage clothes - he'd pulled his hood up over his head, and leaned his head against the window, blowing gentle breaths between his lips. With the way that his eyes occasionally flickered, and his arms would shift from where they were crossed over his chest, almost hugging himself, I wondered if he was actually asleep. But he had appeared tired as he'd stepped off stage, only to be whisked away by Stella and Ally to discuss something else he was probably supposed to be working on.
I'd called Grace as soon as I made it back to the hotel. It was barely the early morning for her, but, rather selfishly, I couldn't help it. I needed to speak to her; I needed to alleviate some of this weight from my shoulders, because at this point, my plan was going very downhill.
I'd known the pang of relief I'd felt in my chest when Harry had told me that what had happened between us, shouldn't have. I knew that although laced with a sting of rejection, deep down, I was relieved, and agreed with his words. I knew that preventing our relationship from spiralling any further; from growing any deeper, was by far the best option, for both of us, but I knew, most certainly, for me. I knew that I wasn't equipped to handle anything deeper, and that his suggestion for us to be colleagues, friends, and nothing more, was undoubtedly what needed to happen. But I couldn't shake him. I couldn't shake the funny chill that travelled along my spine when he said my name, or when he lay a hand on me to brush past, or the way my heart thumped when he looked at me with that thoughtful glint in his eye, or when he playfully tilted his head to beckon my responses to him. I knew from the second we'd laid our ground rules that the impact he was already having on me was far too great, and I needed to instill some more distance between us. But why couldn't I do that, fully? It was like I couldn't bring myself to properly force some space between us, because deep down, I wasn't sure I really wanted to. And that was anything but good.
I didn't know, really, what I wanted - I kept telling myself to stay away from him, and desperately tried to force these relentless, puzzling thoughts from my mind, but I couldn't do it. I'd never known somebody who kept managing to slip through the cracks, before; I'd never known somebody who I was unable to push away, due to my own head wanting to prevent me from doing so. I'd never known anybody like Harry.
I was achingly desperate to have the resolve to cut off all extra contact I had with him, outside of strict professionalism - but each time he looked at me, or so much as spoke in my presence, I seemed to forget exactly why I wanted this distance; it all seemed to melt away. That was the most terrifying part.
I couldn't let myself forget why I felt this way. I couldn't let myself lose sight of what I knew was best; I couldn't stop prioritising protecting myself.
Harry, himself, was often as confusing to me as my own head was. Part of me believed there was absolutely no way that he had an ounce of interest in me - why would he? And if he did, why would he have been so firm in stating that we had to put an end to whatever it was that had happened between us? Why had he attempted to stop me from taking this job in the first place, really?
I refused to believe it was anything deeper than that he truly didn't know what my intentions were, and that it had simply shocked him to see somebody he'd slept with only a week previous, turn up at his place of work. But his actions since then were what must have been truly preventing me from forgetting what had happened between us. Not only did I have my own infatuations with him; his mannerisms, his appearance - him, but the second night we'd spent together was something I just couldn't push from my head. And though it had been less than a week - I knew I was right in my original thought that Harry, and this silly little crush, would be difficult to ignore.
But, perhaps, I hadn't tried - maybe I hadn't tried hard enough. Maybe I really just needed to rip the bandage off, and stop talking to him; break our eye contact when it connected, reject his smiles and his occasional touches, and make sure that there was nothing there. I needed this job more than anything - this job extended beyond whatever connection Harry and I had, and I felt like I was spending far too much time fantasising about him.
The fact he'd shown up at my hotel room that night, of his own accord; the fact he'd gotten so irritated by me interacting with somebody else in the club, the fact he'd been so fixated on my annoyance with Stella. When he'd told me that it was merely 'complicated' when I'd asked why he had ignored me that whole day; the way he'd looked at me, his gaze filled with so much more than I could distinguish - I couldn't get any of it from my mind.
It had to be the intimacy of our first interaction that made me feel this way. The fact that upon meeting him, I'd been granted the privilege to touch him in any way that I liked, and now I couldn't - that had to be it. It had to just be the foreignness; having to get used to this new way of things. It wasn't any deeper - please - it couldn't be.
"I'm not seeing the problem here," Grace had said, yawning dramatically into her phone screen. I'd clearly woken her up when I'd called, and she rubbed her eyes occasionally, as I ranted on. I widened my eyes.
"How? This is awful," I groaned, running my hand over my face. She laughed.
"No, it isn't. Just because it's unfamiliar, it doesn't mean that it's awful," she told me, shaking her head. "Look, this could be good for you. A little summer romance," she teased, and I sighed. She didn't get it.
"It's not a summer romance," I shook my own head, "it's a list of complications that I don't need."
"Izzy, there's obviously a reason why you haven't just ignored each other yet," she said, raising an eyebrow, telling me exactly what I didn't want to hear. 'I can't stay away from you', Harry had admitted to me that morning in the hotel. My chest lurched, remembering it well. "Just let it play out. Is it such a bad idea that, just maybe, you could be happy, for once? And maybe that could have something to do with Harry?" she asked, and I bit my lip back into my mouth. Yes. It's a horrible idea.
"It's not an option," I'd told her, quietly, silently recalling not only my hesitations, but his, too, "for either of us."
I couldn't help but dread seeing him later on. Each time I did, it was only a reminder of the constant inner turmoil I was feeling. Harry was forcing me to reconsider every boundary I'd ever set, and every wall I'd ever put up - and I wasn't sure I liked that.
I had texted Elin as soon as I deemed it late enough in the morning to be appropriate, having not slept a wink, knowing she would be awake. She'd told me before how much she loved mornings, and hated sleeping any later than necessary. I was thankful when she'd replied, telling me to meet her downstairs for breakfast; thankful for the distraction, and to get to spend some time away from the topic of Harry. Elin had been so lovely to me since I'd joined the tour, and was quickly becoming a very good friend, which I welcomed.
She was far more lively and awake than I was, when I met her at the breakfast table, but one thing she had certainly failed to mention as we'd both ordered our coffees and helped ourselves to bowls of cereal, and spent a good half an hour or so chatting to one another, was that it was her birthday.
I looked up, now, eyes widening at Elin before me, as Sarah wound her arms around her neck, tugging her into a hug. Sarah took a seat beside her, pouring herself some coffee.
"I didn't know it was your birthday," I admitted, rather sheepishly, "I'm so sorry."
"Oh, don't be silly! How could you have known?" Elin laughed, waving her hand dismissively. "You'll know for next time," she shrugged, sending me a genuine smile.
I reached across the table, squeezing her hand for a moment, "Happy Birthday," I told her, trying to ignore the twist in my stomach at the phrase. I hated birthdays. I was also unable to feel anything but guilty. She was right - I couldn't have known, but I couldn't help but feel like if I wasn't so constantly wrapped up in everything with Harry, I might have noticed.
Sarah turned to me, now, "Did you like the new song last night, Izzy?" she asked me, sending me a playful wriggle of her eyebrows, which caused Elin to laugh. I frowned, puzzled by the meaning behind her question.
"Oh, stop it. Izzy's just as bad as he is," Elin giggled, before turning to me, "I mean that in the most loving way possible."
"What do you mean?" I asked, genuinely confused. What were they talking about? As bad as Harry?
"He's taking it off the setlist, now, anyway," Elin rolled her eyes. "I guess he didn't like it, after all. Literally, the moment we got off stage, he said that we wouldn't be playing it again." Why would Harry perform this new song, only once, out of the blue, and then be so adamant that it wouldn't be played again?
I frowned, "Why?", but I didn't receive my answer, when Mitch walked into the room and took a seat beside Sarah, cutting our conversation short and greeting Elin with his own 'Happy Birthday'.
"Anyway," Elin changed the subject, leaving me without the answer I wanted for my questions, "how are things going with your new photography account? I was snooping through it last night - the pictures look amazing."
"Oh, thank you," I smiled back at her. I knew Harry liked my photos, and I knew Ally did, as well, considering both of them had approved my first couple of posts, before giving me the freedom and trust, then, to post whichever ones I liked, but it still meant a lot to have somebody tell me they liked them, of their own accord. I still felt a little unstable in my position, here, still unsure of my bearings, despite everybody telling me I was good - I didn't exactly feel it, just yet. "It's going really well. Harry's fans have been really lovely," I said, honestly, and they had. I'd received countless lovely comments - all aimed at Harry, of course, with my photos being of him - but they were nice comments, all the same. I still kept my notifications off, only checking them when I had the chance. The number of followers I had was beginning to creep up to a scary amount, and I figured the less I fixated on that, the better.
I could sense Harry the second he walked into the room, something I was unintentionally making a habit of. I looked up, just as he did, locking eyes with him - but he didn't hold it, as he usually seemed to. Instead, he quickly broke it, bringing his eyes away from mine, causing a strange thump in my chest. It probably wasn't on purpose. And what did it matter, anyway?
It appeared as if he was studying the table layout in front of him, slowing his movements as he neared the table. None of the others had noticed him, yet, exchanging jokes and drinking their coffees. I knew I ought to look away from him, but I couldn't. Sarah and Mitch sat alongside each other on one side of the table, also beside Elin, who I sat opposite. In the absence of Pauli, who had clearly yet to wake up, the only available seat was beside me - but why was he hesitating to take it?
I pursed my lips, resting my chin in my hand as I tried to focus on what Sarah was saying to the group - but Harry still didn't sit down. It could only have been a few seconds, but it felt like torturous hours of him standing there, refusing to take a seat beside me.
Finally, Pauli walked into the room, and Harry quickly turned to greet him, now catching the attention of the whole group, who acknowledged him, now. I watched as Harry then lay a hand on Pauli's shoulder, gesturing him to take his seat first; therefore practically pushing Pauli into the seat beside me, and allowing Harry to take the final seat at the opposite end of the table. I blinked, forcing a smile on my face to greet Pauli. Had Harry just blatantly avoided sitting with me?
I tried to ignore the weird sting in my chest that I was feeling. I hoped I was overanalysing - and even if I wasn't, I tried to see this as some kind of positive. It was one way to restore some distance, I suppose. He was doing me a favour, then. With him sitting far away, I didn't have to worry about the occasional, accidental brush of our knees, nor did I have to hold my breath in an attempt to ignore his presence beside me, or to try and ignore the hypnotising scent of his cologne. Fine. This worked. Fine by me, Harry. He was doing what I was unable to do; separating us from unnecessary communication - good. Great. This was perfectly normal for colleagues.
"You're coming, right, Izzy?" Pauli said, suddenly, breaking me from my thoughts. It was only then that I realised my eyebrows had been tensed into a scowl, and I quickly tried to neutralise my expression. I bit my lip.
"Sorry, what?" I asked, making a shameful confession that I hadn't been listening to the conversations. I needed to stop thinking about Harry. This distance was exactly what I wanted, and what I needed. Even so, all he'd done was sit at the opposite end of the table. Maybe it wasn't as complex as I was making it.
But it felt like it was.
Elin sent me a knowing grin, which Sarah seemed to mirror, causing me to grow more confused, again. "We're going out, tonight, for my birthday. Making the most of these next couple of days off - apparently, Dallas has quite the nightlife," she continued to grin across at me. "You'll come, won't you?" She was right - we had a few days until Harry's next show, and we didn't have to leave for the next city until tomorrow evening. Harry had a media appearance that next day, but nobody had anywhere to be, tonight; not that I was looking for an excuse. I was looking to be more involved, away from thinking solely about Harry - this worked for me.
"Of course, I wouldn't miss it," I told her, causing her to clap her hands together, excitedly. It was then, that Harry's voice finally sounded from the other end of the table.
"I'm not feeling great today, Els, I'm sorry," Harry spoke up, a little solemnly. I watched him, his hands wrapped around his mug of steaming coffee. He looked a little tired, at most - but if he was ill, his appearance certainly didn't allude to that fact. "I'll have to give it a miss. You guys have fun though - buy a bottle on me," he said, his tone even, and free of emotion. I furrowed my eyebrows. What was going on with him?
"Don't be sorry," Elin told him, "if you're feeling any better later on, you know you're welcome to join."
Harry nodded, but didn't say anything else. I turned away from him, trying not to bother anymore with trying to figure out what he was thinking, or what he was doing. I should've known by now that I couldn't figure him out - he was far too confusing. I barely even understood my own thoughts, let alone his. But I couldn't help but think it was weird. Why wouldn't he join us for his close friend's birthday? Maybe he was unwell, or perhaps the intensity of tour was beginning to take a toll on him - but then again, this was nothing he wasn't used to; not to mention that he still had much, much more to go. He'd been doing this for years, now - how could he really be so burnt out at such an early stage?
I tried my best to look forward to going out that evening. I tried to focus on the fact I would be having a fun evening with my friends - the last night out we'd had, certainly hadn't been uneventful. I couldn't help but feel that it was a shame that Harry wasn't coming, but I knew, deep down, I needed to have some fun, without him.
I had a brief meeting with Ally in the early afternoon. She said that this was something she liked to do with newer employees; have frequent check-ins, casual in nature, just to make sure everything was running smoothly.
"First of all," she said, as we'd sat down in a random coffee shop she'd found in the city. I sipped my drink, waiting for her to continue. "I just want to say, honestly, I'm so happy with how this is working out. You're really fitting in here, so perfectly. It's amazing," she said, a warm smile on her face that instantly settled any nerves I had. Ally just had such a kind, reassuring energy about her, that just seemed to put me at ease. Her and Grace had that in common, being family, I supposed.
I smiled, nodding, "I'm really glad you think so."
"Oh, I know so. You just seem to be getting along amazingly with everybody. Not to mention how amazing all of your work has been, so far. I couldn't have asked for this to go any better," she reached across the table to squeeze my hand. "We all just adore you, already. Harry thinks you're just wonderful, as we all do. We're going to be very sad when you leave us." Harry thinks I'm wonderful. I did my best to focus on anything but that, but I'd have been lying to say that it wasn't at the forefront of my mind. I'd only been on tour for a week, and the fact that my days were numbered, there, wasn't something I liked to think of, much. I already knew my final two weeks on tour weren't approved by the firm, and I could only hope that they would be. But until then, I planned to desperately try and live in the moment, and avoid the question of whether everything would work out.
It warmed my heart to know that the others on tour enjoyed my presence. That was a huge relief - it was something I'd feared from the beginning, and to be able to fear that a little less, gave me a lot of comfort. I was somebody with an incessant fear that everybody I knew secretly despised me - that they were only nice for show, and were really exhausted by my very existence. It provided me with slight reassurance to know that they'd spoken highly of me, to give Ally such a good impression.
Somebody I'd have been surprised to hear if they'd been speaking highly of me, was Stella. Ally didn't mention her at all, and I hadn't seen her again since our odd interaction at Harry's media appearance the day before - only in slight glimpses at Harry's show, last night. I hadn't mentioned, to anybody, her strange disillusionment with me, nor had Harry and I discussed it further, despite him definitely being suspicious when it happened. I decided it was better to try and ignore her - everybody else seemed to. It also helped that she spent very little time with our group, anyway; she appeared quite clear in wanting to separate herself from everybody except Harry, or sometimes, Ally, and everybody else seemed very satisfied with it being that way.
When my meeting with Ally eventually drew to an end, it had provided yet another example of why I needed distractions from Harry; encapsulated by the fact that the moment Ally told me that he thought I was wonderful, I didn't think of much else for the rest of our meeting. It was only a casual exchange, thankfully, meaning there wasn't much consequence for my poor attention span - but I noticed it, myself. I needed to stop thinking about him. Urgently.
When I'd arrived back to the hotel, finally, it was the middle of the afternoon, and the smaller of the two group-chats I'd been added to on my first day was alive with messages. I opened up my notifications from it, scrolling up to the first that was sent, today.
It was Pauli, his message decorated with an array of emojis. "Cake in #440!"
I assumed that was his room number, and with the message having been sent over ten minutes ago, and acknowledged by the others in the chat, I figured I'd best head up there to join them.
I stepped out of the elevator on the fourth floor of our hotel, my head buried in my phone as I replied to a text Grace had sent regarding her plans for the night. It was only mid-afternoon for me, meaning it was now evening for her, which also meant that she was now properly awake - as opposed to how she'd been when I'd called her earlier that day, in distress. A large part of me was really beginning to wish she was here - with her being just about the only person in the world I felt I could properly confide in, I missed the reassurance and comfort she'd provide in a situation like this, as well as some sarcastic wisdom.
I looked up as I reached the hotel room I was aiming for, only to be greeted with the very figure I could've ideally avoided. I lifted my head, as he stopped, apprehensively before me. I narrowed my eyes.
"Are you feeling better?" I asked him, before I really meant to.
Harry glanced at me for a second, before he appeared to purse his lips. He was dressed in the same, very comfortable looking, hoodie that he had been earlier. He always looked so warm, and oddly inviting. He only nodded, tucking his hands rather sheepishly into his pockets. I furrowed my eyebrows.
"Thank you," he then said, quietly, refusing to meet my eye. I looked at him, as his eyes, instead, fixated on the hotel room door in front of us. I bit my lip, neglecting to mention this weird tension that appeared to have heightened between us. There was always something unspoken in the air between Harry and I - something I could never quite put my finger on, or seek to confront. But this felt a little different. It felt far less like background in our conversation - a little tension, lingering in the back of our minds - instead, this seemed to prevail. He had nothing to say to me.
I knocked on the door, as Harry made no attempt to move, lingering a foot or two away from me; eyes anywhere but on me. The few seconds it took for the door to be opened were spent in torturous silence, my mind spinning around relentlessly. I hated this kind of treatment. I wasn't sure what I'd done, or what had happened, or how we'd gotten here, but I didn't like it. How we'd gone from very smoothly co-existing, and undoubtedly getting along as friends, to this, didn't make sense in my mind. His performance last night felt charged; I wasn't sure how, or with what, but it seemed to reignite everything I was attempting to suppress regarding Harry. It had played relentlessly on my mind from the second I'd heard it, and I'd known that in reality, there was no meaning behind it; at least, not directed at me. But my first mistake had been to even entertain my own thoughts - to not forcefully push any inkling I'd had from my mind, immediately. I'd tried, but not clearly hard enough. My second, had been to let myself get carried away, as always.
I'd grown up in a household of shouters - of screaming, of throwing things, and breaking valuables. Loud voices, constantly, at any inconvenience or hardship. I hated shouting, and I hated raised voices; but I was a little immune to it, now. Silence was worse. Being ignored, or shut out, was foreign - and I decided I hated it far more than anything else. And I especially hated it, when it came from him.
Interestingly, despite having ultimately no clue what was going on inside his head - his silence didn't feel laced with malice. It didn't feel goading, or mean-spirited. He was merely solemn; almost timid, here, in my presence.
"Finally!" Sarah exclaimed, pulling the door open with a wide grin. Her eyes shifted from me, to Harry, and I realised we had, unintentionally, arrived together. I watched her lips twitch, but she didn't say anything, only stepping aside to let us through. Harry stayed back for a second, letting me go first.
I walked in, to find Pauli, Elin, and Mitch, seated on the spacious couch of the hotel room. I wasn't exactly sure whose room we were in, but judging by the embroidered guitar case that rested upon the bed, I figured it was Elin's. I watched as the group of them exchanged looks with one another, at Harry and I's arrival, and I suddenly felt transported to the weird smiles I'd received from Mitch upon my arrival at the airport, on my first day. It felt like everybody knew something I didn't - but at this stage, I wasn't sure what there was to know.
I took a seat in an empty armchair, and Harry awkwardly shifted to take a seat on the edge of the desk. The chatter told me that nobody else was feeling as conflicted as I did, but I felt like the air was thick with tension. I looked across at Harry, who had his bottom lip pinched between his forefinger and thumb, as if deep in thought. He hadn't blinked for a minute, his eyes fixated on the wall. What was going on inside his head?
Mitch appeared to be watching him, as well, his eyes slightly narrowed. Perhaps he was as confused by his demeanour as I was.
"Here we go!" Pauli called, excitedly, inviting an array of cheers from the rest of the group. He'd gotten up at some stage - I hadn't noticed - and was now reappearing with a cake in his hands, a row of lit candles messily sprawled across the top. Elin laughed gleefully, and I couldn't help but mimic the grand smiles upon everybody's faces. The joy in this room was truly infectious, everybody linking arms and laughing as everybody began to very poorly sing 'Happy Birthday' in staggered keys. I couldn't help but laugh; for a room full of musicians, there was not the slightest harmony able to be detected as everybody threw their heads back to belt out the verses.
I pulled my camera out from my bag, unable to resist snapping a few photos of the group all huddled together - the only person out of shot was Harry, who was too far away, but still sang along with a small smile on his face. I knew he loved his friends, but his smile still felt distant, or a little more performative than I'd seen. There was something going on with him, and despite all of my reservations, I found myself aching to know what.
Elin blew out her candles, and everybody cheered, applauding her loudly. I grinned over at her, setting my camera down so that I could clap my hands, as well. I felt a pair of familiar eyes on me, but I didn't dare to look, instead focusing on the other four ahead of me.
We stayed that way for a little while longer; everybody chatting happily, exchanging jokes - mostly centred around Elin - and sharing cake. And though I'd never liked birthdays, birthdays like this didn't seem too bad. I would've called it my worst nightmare to have this much focus on me - I'd never had any grand gestures, or celebrations for any of my birthdays. I wondered what that would be like - to have people keen to celebrate you. My birthdays weren't celebrated, or even acknowledged, growing up, and after that, Grace had tried for many years - the most I'd ever let her away with was taking me out for a drink, but I'd always insisted on simplicity. It wasn't as if I had any friends, other than her, and so I was satisfied to be spending time with her, and her only.
When we finally left Elin's room to head back to our own, to get ready to head back out shortly after, the silence from Harry was becoming rather deafening, for me. I knew it was best; I knew I had ought to take advantage of the fact that he had ripped the plaster off for me - I should've been grateful, if anything. I wasn't able to separate us, and so he did it, and that was his prerogative. I might not have liked it, or it might have felt sudden, and out of character - but it was fair enough, I knew that. But the attempts I'd made to convince myself of it's practicality all day were quickly revealing themselves to be fruitless; to me, fact Harry wouldn't be joining us for the night out, felt like a real shame. He liked to be the life of the party; the entertainer. And I knew he loved Elin, and him missing her birthday for some unidentified reason felt deeply unfortunate.
I'd spent the entire day in my own head, trying to point out all of the positives that came with this new distance. I'd told myself I wanted to be more present, without him, and I wanted to focus on myself, and the others. But I wasn't sure I'd been telling the truth.
"Harry," I said, before I could really realise what I was doing. We had been the last to leave the room, and now the only two in the hallway. He'd been walking a considerable distance ahead of me, but upon the sound of my voice, he stopped, turning around slowly. I bit my lip, as he waited for me to continue.
"Yeah?"
"Why aren't you coming tonight?" I asked the question that had been on my mind since breakfast. He pursed his lips, as if contemplating his answer. I watched as his fingers twitched in uncertainty.
He glanced away from me for a moment, before bringing his eyes back to me. He hesitated, before he finally answered, "It's complicated."
He'd told me that before. On our first night in America, he'd said it was far more complicated than I knew. My lips twitched into a small smile at the irony.
"You should come," I said, softly, watching his facial expression soften. It was only then that I'd realised how tensed it had been, how firmly set in some kind of anguish. I'd taken a few tentative steps towards him, enabling myself to see his face far better, now. He'd caught a little sun since we'd been here; I supposed he was somebody who tanned rather easily, because his complexion somehow appeared even smoother and more radiant than it typically did, only emphasising the piercing green of his eyes. Sure, distance was right, but it was Elin's birthday. I knew she would've wanted him there. And rather selfishly, though I hesitated to admit it, I wanted him to come out tonight. I wanted him to be there far more than I should have. I wanted him to be there a dangerous amount.
But that was normal, wasn't it? It was normal to want your friends to come out, and have fun with you, and the rest of your friends. It didn't have to be complicated, not for me. It was normal to want to share company. As a matter of fact, I figured it would've been less normal if I hadn't invited him out - really, this was the friendly thing to do. There wasn't anything more to it. Of course not.
Harry's eyes seemed to search my own, now. It was like he was trying to figure out what was going on in my head, just like I was trying to figure out what was going on in his. He was quiet for a moment, his lip drawn between his teeth.
"Why?" he asked. I hadn't expected that question.
I swallowed. Not because I want you there. "It'll be fun," I said, trying to sound convincing. He titled his head, slightly. I sighed. I want you there. "Elin wants you there for her birthday."
He stared at me for a moment, and I suddenly felt very exposed. I shuffled awkwardly, smoothing my hand over my opposing arm under his watchful gaze. His lips twitched the tiniest bit. I wondered if he was trying not to smile.
"I dunno, Iz," he said, now, and I was grateful for the return of my nickname. He hadn't called me anything else, today, but the exclusive, shortened use of my name felt far more amicable than our other interactions had, today. I felt my heart flutter, just at how nice it sounded rolling from his tongue. I cleared my throat.
"I thought you were feeling better," I said.
"I am, a bit," he leaned against the wall. I hated how good he looked. He still wasn't budging.
"We're all going. We'll miss you if you don't," I said, instantly regretting the second part as soon as I said it. I wasn't sure how I'd planned to convince him without it being the least bit personal, but I was certainly failing. I pressed my lips together.
"Who will?"
Me. I looked away from him. God, he wouldn't let me have it easy, would he? I wanted him to come out, to a rather pathetic extent. I enjoyed his company a lot more than I wanted to admit, and though I loved the remainder of the group, it didn't feel as if it would be quite the same without him. That was all - perfectly innocent, and perfectly friendly. Nothing else; nothing more.
His face told me that he was really asking. The same look of conflicting nature returned to his face; the one I'd seen upon it since breakfast, this morning. His question didn't feel rhetorical, or overly teasing. He wanted to know.
"I will," I said, my voice sounding awfully small. I was tempted to regret the words as soon as they left my mouth. That was the last thing I'd wanted to say to him from the second we'd declared ourselves mere friends and colleagues - but the way his face changed stopped me from doing so. I could've grown really used to that softer expression of his; I felt like I could melt into his hands when faced with it. I cleared my throat, "and the others, obviously. You really should come." Please let that be enough.
His eyes shifted along me, looking me up and down in a way that was near undetectable. It was a gesture that, by its very nature, would make me feel so vulnerable; but from him, it didn't feel the least bit derogatory, or intimidating. I sort of liked that funny warmth, and the weird buzz that it gave me, even in the midst of awkwardly and tentatively asking him to join us on a night out.
"You're awfully persuasive," he said, suddenly. Yes. I couldn't stifle the smile on my lips. "Okay. I'll come," he stepped away from the wall, turning to continue making his way down the hallway. Though the weirdness of our interactions today was still playing heavily on my mind, and I still felt a strange distance in his demeanour, that knowing, beckoning glint of his had returned to his eye. He paused, almost as if debating his next words. But his wit prevailed. "I wouldn't want you to be stuck missing me, Iz."