#Gracie Abrams | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

writingsfromhome · 12 hours ago

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That’s so True

A/N: this one’s sort of from a request in my inbox but coincidentally I came across a reel where this song was from the guy’s pov and it + the comments obviously got me inspired (IG: itschloeduvall—recommend!). It’s not my best but here’s a mash of your and Harry’s POVs based somewhat on Gracie’s TST <3

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The stuffy room buzzed with the attendees of both schools that bordered our borough. There’s laughter and music flowing through the rooms and a laid-back atmosphere.

When our uniforms were on the school rivalry was always thick but at these sorts of house parties everyone was friendly. Yet despite it all I��m not as laid back as I want to be.

I lean against the kitchen island, and listen to my friends banter. From where I stand I can see the beer pong played on the table to my right but also all the way down the hall rammed with bodies to the front door.

“Bet you didn’t notice why I wore blue shadow,” Zoe bats her eyelashes up at me. She was a year younger than me and just as into me as all the other girls I’ve been with. She knew exactly how to handle herself and how to be fun. But that’s what made girls like Zoe cool. They adored you until they didn’t, and I would have fun with them before that expiry came around.

“I noticed,” I press a kiss to the shell of her ear.

“Really?” She laughs and pulls away. “You didn’t say!”

“Not right now,” I look down at her. I remember the first time she approached me leaning against my car in the parking lot. It was just days after I ghosted my last fling and I didn’t think I was going to have a new one so soon but when life gives you lemons...

“Why?”

“I was going to save the admiring for later.”

“Oh?” She puts her hands on her hips but there’s a tipsy sparkle to her eye. “Harry I don’t need to just be admired in private!”

“I’m here with you tonight aren’t I?” I brush her cheek, kiss her neck. “This is me admiring you publicly.”

“Really?” She murmurs.

I kiss her long and lingering in response.

“Well I don’t mind—public or private.” Zoe says when we part. The look in her eyes undresses me right there.

I don’t know why I look up just then but my line of sight to the door shows me exactly who walked in.

YN’s cheeks are flushed from the cold and I nearly remember the feeling of my burning lips against them.

The memory comes flooding back in a rush—the night we sat in my car by the chilly beach. We’d been hooking up for a couple weeks by then. And she had been crying and trying not to, and for the first time in my life I’d wanted to take all the pain away from someone. And it terrified me.

It got too close; I hated how it made me feel. I hated how it lingered. I had no choice but to quit her cold turkey after that. I try to push all of that out of my mind when I feel Zoe's hand on my arm.

“Would you be mad if I wanted to leave early with you? I bummed some stuff off my friend we could hang out in your car…”

“We can leave early,” I promise her. She was hard to resist. “Let’s just act like we’re interested in being here first though.”

Zoe gives me a peck and leans into me, her cheek resting on my chest. My gaze drifts back to YN, just in time for her to look my way. I force my eyes to slide off of her, she didn’t mean anything special. She wasn’t any more special than the girl in my arms.

But I can’t deny the physical jolt that goes through me, how the blood roars in my ears in the split second we locked eyes.

Fuck that. I don’t care. She should know I don’t. I imagine her watching me with Zoe, knowing she and I would only ever be another discarded fling.

“Your heart’s racing,” Zoe comments, cheek still glued to my chest.

“Feeling restless. I’m grabbing a drink.” I leave her a lingering kiss before I head to the beer pong part of the kitchen. But a sensation creeps up my neck I can’t shake.

I end chatting with some of the guys watching a football match—knowing them from the team when I played last season.

Zoe eventually joins me after making eyes at me across the room from the kitchen where she was caught in conversation. And even though there’s a few inches of space beside me and Marty on the couch she wriggles her way in, most of her body draped over me.

I don’t mind it, she was miniature sized. I tell her that.

“I could fit you in my pocket,” I muse.

She presses her palms into my chest, her eyes dark with want. “If I’m in your trousers I don’t want to be in your pockets.”

She laughs into the next kiss.

She really didn’t hold back.

“Watch watch watch,” Marty shoves my knee, jostling both Zoe and I as he leans forward on the couch beside us. “He’s gonna make thaaat—aw bollocks!”

We all laugh at Marty’s favourite player messes up a perfectly set-up goal.

“Y’sure he’s not getting paid on the side?” I joke.

“You shut your mouth,” he barely spares a glance to me, his eyes glued to the telly. “He’s a genuinely good guy.”

I glance at Zoe and amusement colours her face. I’m about to tell her something about the game when I feel a prick on the back of my neck. I glance around and there she is as real as the last time I saw her, her presence burning into my skin.

Zoe mirrors me, glancing around but clearly YN didn’t draw her in like she did me.

I distract her, tuck her hair behind her ear. If YN was watching I want her to see it all. I undo the clip in Zoe’s hair and it falls around her face. And just like she usually does, she cranes her face towards mine and I kiss her. She’s soft and smells like vanilla and vodka. She was confident and sexy but I’m bottomed out with a hollow feeling.

I fill it by kissing her again, desperate to get rid of it. Or maybe I just needed to get more drunk.

But my eyes betray me, flicking up briefly to YN. Her poker face betrays her with the clench of her jaw. I could hear her voice in my head accusing me of using Zoe, of being a coward. My heart picks up speed but I push it all down and focus on Zoe’s touch.

Maybe I was just feeling guilty because I knew she was going through a tough time personally. But it wasn’t my responsibility. I was a good person for feeling bad. I didn’t actually care about her.

-Your POV-

I only know time is passing because the muffled beats of the songs start and end like clockwork. Otherwise, I stay sitting on the garage steps in the dark. I’ve stopped noticing the dusty oil smell that clings to the air—it's all blended into the dark.

The party was getting too much as soon as I stepped in but I forced myself to stay because of my friends. But then an hour ago I was forced to stand there and watch Harry and his new girl slobber all over each other. I bided my time until my friends stopped watching me like a dog waiting to bolt—not that I could blame them. Because I bolted as soon as they stopped watching.

I wish I could get over it. All of it. Everything felt so heavy all the time.

Grams was moving to be closer to her sister now that she lived alone ever since Grandpa……left.

I couldn’t blame her. Wouldn’t I do the same? I was so selfishly thinking in the short-term when we both knew I’d be out of this damn town in a few months. And, I already booked my ticket to visit her this summer. It was supposed to be fine, right?

But why couldn’t I just move on?

And Harry. Fucking Harry. Why the hell did he get to me? He was taunting me and I was letting him.

But only in the dark here, slightly tipsy, a small part of me admits the hurt. It hurt.

But why? He was just some guy I had a short thing with. I wanted to lose myself to a fun casual fling. He was the type of guy who just liked to have fun, nothing serious. I knew it going in.

But he saw me so vulnerable. And the thing that gets me is how much he actually seemed like he cared that night. How his eyes drank in everything I was feeling and in that it felt like I wasn’t alone.

He surprised me by being sweet—which my rational brain knows is just a honey trap for girls. But it felt so genuine, like he truly was being sweet for me. How could I get over something like that!

Move on. He obviously has.

I let my eyes flick over to my phone, just for a second. I’m tempted to look at the stories from the party, from everyone inside. The party that I’m separated from by a single door—FOMO.

That’s a new low.

I pull my gaze away and try to ignore the impulse.

He had noticed me when I walked in. Even though he looked away I know he saw me because I saw him.

I’d heard he moved on—it’s crazy that this time last week we were in his car together. I was ready to trickle off after that heavy night but not before having a talk with him. It’s not like I was expecting him to be waiting around for me but I also didn’t expect him to be so cruel showing off and being obnoxious right in front of me with this new chick.

"Nah, I got it!" A voice near the door says. My heart skips a beat for a second. The voice—his voice. But it fades as quickly as it came.

I'm about to let out a sigh when the door swings open and a flood of light spills into the garage. It's blinding at first.

“Where the—ahh!” I whip my head up, but of course, I don’t need to see him to know it’s him.

He stands there, wide-eyed, caught off guard for a split second. Then he recovers, straightens his shoulders.

"What the fuck, YN?"

I don’t even answer him. I just turn away, chin on my knees, staring back into the dark.

In my silence he goes down leaving the door open a sliver to let the light in so he can see. I hold my breath when he passes, knowing breathing him in would engulf me in the exact same way it used to.

Not that I was nostalgic for it but I didn't want my brain playing tricks on me when I was a sitting duck here.

I track him as he heads to a small pile in the corner of the confined garage and pulls out a few six-packs. He stacks a couple and comes back my way.

There’s just enough space on the stairs for him to sit beside me without crowding me, and I can feel him hovering. I can feel him deciding whether to stay or leave.

Damnit. The step creaks softly as he chooses to sit, the door still cracked open behind him, casting a slice of light across his face.

I breathe in, catching the familiar scent of him. It floods my senses, sharp and heady like it used to. Shit.

I hate that a part of me wants to tell him to screw whatever game he was playing with me and just meet me upstairs. Somewhere dark and tucked away. But my dignity and the reminder of an unanswered text makes me pretend he didn’t affect me.

I hear the shift of cans in his hands. "Are you sulking out here?"

His voice is casual. Like us. Casual. He’s playing this like we can just go back to being nobody-classmates with each other.

I glare in the dark. "What’s it to you?"

"Didn’t take you for the sulking type," he says, leaning back a little like he’s amused by me.

"Well, that’s reassuring."

"What is?"

"How you don’t know me."

Our eyes meet for a beat, and it feels too much like everything between us again. But then his eyes crinkle with a cocky amusement and it pisses me off. Like he knows how annoying he is right now and it’s entertainment.

He adjusts the beer in his hands, then tilts his head toward the door, like I’m the weird one for not being inside with the rest of the people at the party.

"Why are you out here when the party's in there?"

I don’t answer right away. I can feel my pulse thrumming too loudly in my neck. I feel awashed in shame, hot waves down my neck; he knew exactly why I might be out here when the party’s in there. Is he playing dumb to show me how much he never cared, how unimportant my story was? Or is he trying to get me vulnerable again?

"None of your business," I snap, turning away.

The silence lingers a moment, but then—"s’it because of me?"

I blink. Did he just ask me that? He can’t possibly be that bold. And yet, the question is spoken like a secret.

I feel a sharp rush of irritation flood my chest. How dare he pity me. "Because of you?" I ask. "Do you really think the small blip of time we spent together affected me enough to isolate myself out here just because you brought some new shiny toy to the party? Get over yourself, Harry. I’ve got bigger things going on in my life."

For a moment, his face falls, the amusement fading, but it’s gone in a flash. He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, but the shout of someone inside calls his name. "Hurry up, man!"

I glance at him, his face had hardened into the cocky fuckboy we all know him to be. A complete contrast to the face that watched me that night.

He never existed.

"The eyes don’t lie," he says, leaning in just a little, his usual cocky smirk crawling back into place. "I see the way you’ve been watching me all night, YN. Say what you want to say—"

"Why are you here?” I interrupt. My skin prickles, my pulse quickening. I had something to say but he was making me too angry to say it. My words were for a gentler Harry, not this fucker. “Is it just to bother me because you can leave.”

He pauses, just for a second, his eyes darkening, but then he shrugs and gets up to go. "Well, sorry you’re missing out."

"I’m not missing out," I turn to say, my voice hoarse. "I’m just taking a breather."

But even as I say it, the words feel like a lie.

I stare at him, standing in the doorway. He pauses, half-turning. The smirk’s still there, but it’s thinner, like he’s pushing something down.

"Sad, sad girl," he murmurs, shaking his head, as if he's disappointed in me.

I scramble to get up--to cuss him out, to launch myself at him, I really don't know what; his condescending cocky tone sets something off in me.

But he knows exactly what that would do to me. By the time l've untwisted myself the door is slamming shut behind him and I'm left in the dark.

I swear loudly, the sound echoing off the walls like a threat. My fists clench. "Fuck him," I mutter.

All that responds is the silence and it feels suffocating.

-Harry’s POV-

She’s won’t give me the satisfaction of following me up but I know it gets to her—the way she stiffened when I said she was "missing out." And I know I’m a dick but it’s because for a moment there I almost fucked it all up and asked if she was okay.

I pull a new beer out, pop the cap, and take a long drink.

Your ego’s bruised, you’re trying to be cruel to hurt her.

I drink more.

I liked having fun. It’s part of being young—before I get old and have to settle down and get serious like all the adults in my life. I want to meet all kinds of girls and just have fun. I want to live without looking back with regrets—so no strings attached and no consequences.

Then she had to come along. With that sharp wit and broody eyes. She just approached me at a party like this one one day and by the end of the night we were hooking up.

My parents had been away for the weekend so the only thing to do was invite everyone over. But what started out as inviting my group, their dates, and some other girls led to nearly the entire class in my home.

“Mum’s gonna kill you,” my sister had said before she left the house. “You better clean it all up before she gets back and I’m not helping.”

“Duh,” I say. But it’s overwhelming this many people in my house.

After a few beers the overwhelm shies down to a forgotten thought in the back of my mind. I’m the man of the hour because I was throwing the party. Usually I was just attending them. This was different. Good-different.

Some of the guys are playing video games and I settle with one of the controllers but my loss is so painful I have to leave to get another drink and stay a few feet from any of the controllers.

After fucking around in the den and flirting with a couple girls younger than me I can’t remember the names of, I go back to where the game is being played.

My spot’s been occupied by YN—I’ve been in school with her for years but we’d only spoken a handful of times. We ran in different circles and she didn’t always show up to parties. But tonight she has a controller in her hand and her face is scrunched in concentration. It’s cute.

YN was cute, she was really smart and everyone knew she was going to graduate and do things that made the rest of us say we knew her when…

But in that way she was out of my league. Girls like her never bothered to hook up. They were always studying or in committed relationships. Last I heard she was dating someone in the year above us but they broke up before he graduated.

So that’s why I’m taken aback when she comes in second place and cheers with first. She knocks back her drink in celebration and somehow her eyes find mine.

I raise my brows and lift my beer to her. She grins and her face lights up—she’s really cute. I laugh and she mocks a bow while sitting. I shake my head at her before her attention’s stolen by first place asking her to play again.

My heart is pounding and I can’t stop looking her way. She agrees to playing again and even though I miss the round when I have to find more drinks, by the time I come back she’s just leaning into the couch, arms crossed and drink resting against her. She watches the screen but she glances when I walk back in.

She looks away. Then she looks back.

There’s a challenge in her eyes but I don’t know what she playing at. Girls like her simply didn’t hook up with guys like me so I didn’t want to read the signs wrong. She was probably being friendly and she was drunk.

But the stars must have been misaligned because after making eyes she stands confidently and walks over to me.

Her shoulders are bare in a sweater that wraps around them and when she comes closer it’s in a wave of a sharp clean scent. Her skin looks tantalizing like she’s put something glittery on it and I have to force myself to keep my eyes on her face and listen close above the music and my heart beating in my ears.

“You’re not jealous are you?” She asks.

“Of what?”

“Well I saw you playing earlier and it was…” she bites her lip.

“What?” I shake my head seriously. “You didn’t see that absolute loss happening from me.”

“I didn’t?” She raises her brow. “So that wasn’t you?”

“No! No it wasn’t. I uh, have a twin. Total loser. Didn’t you know?”

“A twin?” She asks with humour in her eyes. And I can’t believe her as she moves closer to me. The magnetism emanates from this new confidence she talks to me with. “What’s his name?”

“Why? Are you interested?” I ask.

“Well,” she blinks. “Clearly he needs some tips from a pro. I thought you could introduce me and I can show him how to win.”

Now she’s inches from me. I’ve done this dance a million times and yet I feel like I’m in unchartered territory. I always had the upper hand but she was catching me off guard. I had to flip this.

“Show him how to win?” I ask. I decide to make the first move, touch her. I take the hair that’s spilled over her shoulder and brush it back. Her eyes flicker down to my lips. “Why would a pretty girl like you waste your time doing that?”

“I’m more than a pretty girl.”

“Yeah I know. You’re smart as shit and a total killer over there.”

“Mhm,” she says. The sound shoots straight into my chest. “So? You won’t even introduce us? Tell me his name?”

“My brother…isn’t really your type.”

My hand slides down her back to her waist. Her hand comes up to my chest, up to my shoulders. I want to kiss her. Bad. Know what she felt like.

“You sound jealous. Won’t even give me his info.”

“Uh well,” do I kiss her—does she know I’m not into serious dating. “He’s…Gary….Styles.”

We lock eyes and then spring apart as laughter spills between us.

“Oh my god,” I choke. “I can’t believe that just-“

“Gary?!” She cries. “Was that-was that the best you could…”

She’s laughing too hard to finish, crouching down to contain herself.

“I was trying to think of a rhyming name!”

“Sure!” She tries to breath through her laugh. “Name him the most unsexiest thing ever!”

I laugh again. “I told you he wasn’t your type!”

That sets her off again and there’s a warm pride filling my chest at making her laugh this hard. Most people found me funny but seeing smart and pretty YN crouching down on my living room floor from laughing so hard, standing and brushing the tears out of her eyes—I could float on this feeling for a while.

“Fine.” She’s still smiling and I’m grinning just being around her. YN was cool—who knew. “Forget Gary.”

I slap my hand over my face and she laughs as she says it.

“C’mon,” she peels my hand off and instead of letting go she places it back on her waist. “You’ll do if he’s not around.”

“I-I’ll do?” I’m once again caught off guard. And if my ego wasn’t so inflated by her attention and laughter I would be fighting for dominance but she takes the lead once more. Like she was cool and confident and she knows what she’s doing.

“Yeah? Have you never hooked up Harry? I thought that’s what you did? Or was that your brother all along?”

“No!” I tug her waist. “That’s definitely me. Gary has no game.”

“Naturally,” she nods. “This is your place right? I’m guessing you have a room?”

She’s bold. Direct about what she wants from me. It’s different.

“I have to sleep in the room under the stairs. Gary has a bedroom upstairs though.”

“So all Harry’s sleep under the stairs then?” She grins. I laugh. She was cool. And funny. And cute, and flirty, and I wanted to kiss her.

“Most of them.” I look at her lips, they’ve got that glossy stuff on them and I imagine they taste like strawberries.

She quiets and leans in and when our eyes meet again I know she's thinking about kissing me too. We’re caught in limbo and when she tips forward it’s all the confirmation I need.

I grab the back of her head and bring our mouths together. She didn’t taste like strawberries. It was minty instead and the coolness prickles my lips as she trails her fingers up my neck.

My hands slide to her waist as we kiss and she moans when I slide my tongue into her mouth. She was so soft, and real. Her hands were on my chest, sliding over the fabric of my shirt. Holy fuck I was kissing YN. The feel of her lips was like a drug and I needed to get my fix.

I wanted to get closer. Know what her skin felt like under my palm. The idea made my heart beat faster. My hands travel there before I could think, my thumbs rubbing circles into her lower back.

“Maybe,” she breaks the kiss. Her eyes as dark as mine and her chest heaves against me. “Not here? We can find that bedroom.”

“Just what I was gonna say,” I can’t take my eyes off her. I don’t care how many people were here I wanted my lips back on her.

“So!?” She tugs me out of my daze and I apologize.

With a hand on the small of her back I guide her upstairs to my bedroom. Nobody’s here just like I told them not to be and by the time I close the door her gaze is flitting around my room.

“You like music?” She asks, pointing to the guitar and CDs in the corner of my room.

“I live and breathe it. Sorry for-“ I point to my clothes laying on my chair and the bed. I toss the ones on the bed onto the chair. I didn’t think I was hooking up with anyone like this tonight, too occupied with cleaning up later.

“You should see mine,” she shakes her head.

“Really? You seem like your room would be perfect.”

“Perfect?” Something flits across her face. “No. Definitely not. ”These days my room looks like a storm’s swept through.”

I walk back to her and brush her hair back again. Here, away from everyone else, she’s a little less bold. She’s softer. That overwhelming need to kiss her is still there but it’s enveloped by a need to hold her too. To savour her.

“My mum always says your room’s a reflection of your mind.” I say. “She’s always disappointed in mine.”

She lets out a short laugh. “Ha! That must be true.”

The look on her face again. I want to ask but I sense she doesn’t want to be asked. She looks behind us to my music instead.

“Yours must have a lot of music in it.”

“Yeah. Every moment.” I go with the change in subject. It wasn’t my business.

“Even this one?”

“Mhm,” I hum. I pull her in from her waist and press a kiss to her throat. I whisper against her skin, “Even this ones.”

Her body shudders and her voice is barely audible when she asks, “And what’s playing?”

I smile against her.

"You.” I tell her. “Your breath, your laugh, your heartbeat. It's a tune unique to you. Your song.”

“You’re good,” she laughs quietly before tilting her head towards me and our lips find each other again. This time we're alone and I don't feel bad for exploring. She was the most beautiful and surprising person I'd met and I didn’t want her to slip through my fingers.

She makes quick work of her sweater, pulling it over her head. It takes my breath away.

"Y’okay?" she asks.

I don’t know what to tell her with all the feelings rushing through me pumping with every racing heartbeat. So I go with, "You're beautiful."

Her face softens, I want her even more.

Her hands cup my face and I lean into her touch as she kisses me again. I let her have control for a bit, but her control is measured and soft and exploring. It feels careful.

She begins to take my shirt off and I do the rest, tossing it to the side. I nudge her gently towards the bed and she scoots up, taking down her hair. I never in a million years thought I would have her in my bed. That I would get to see this side of her. I feel lucky in a way. Luckier than anyone downstairs.

"So goddamn perfect," I say again. I climb onto the bed and kiss her lips. I work my way to her neck. It's the best thing I've had in a while. I reach her shoulder and suck at the skin there, the sound that escapes her lips is intoxicating. I want to hear it again.

I reach her collarbone, trailing wet kisses; she’s so much more perfect than I'd imagined. As we move and explore each other, she feels amazing but I pause when she slows down.

"What?" she asks.

"Are you…it’s just...you’re…" her eyes flash and I can tell she’s embarrassed that I’m pointing it out.

"I'm sorry," she blinks a bunch. “It’s sorta been a while?”

“That’s okay. That’s alright. We can take it slow.”

She nods and doesn’t speak.

“Is this okay? What do you want?"

"I want you." She's staring up at me and I see the want clear as day. “Not slow.”

The words go straight to my core."Then you have me."

Her hand trails down as I kiss her and it’s tentative as it reaches lower and lower. Warmth cascades down my body and I feel like I’m in a dream.

“You’re amazing YN,” I tell her. “You feel amazing.”

I tilt her head back for the taste of her, bite the skin of her shoulder. Her sounds alone drive me crazy. But I’m priming her, making sure she’d ready. When she buckles her hips into mine I tug at the elastic of her panties.

"Is this okay?"

She nods.

"Say it."

"Yes," she breathes. “God, you’re bossy. S’okay.”

I pull the dainty fabric off with a smile and throw them to the floor. She nods when I look at her, her eyes are hooded and dark . “Protection?"

"I have some." I lean over and dig through my nightstand. When I sit back she’s quiet but I’m focused with the task at hand so she catches my by surprise with her question.

“H-how many girls do you hook up with?"

I look up at her and she's watching me with those dark broody eyes. They're so wide and so deep and I’m drowning.

"Some."

"That's…not an answer."

"It is. You’re not getting posessive are you? We’re still haven’t finished getting to know each other.”

She flushes furiously.

"So a lot then," she continues.

I laugh. "Do you usually do this? Is this some sort of foreplay?"

"I-i just-I want to be sure you’re-“

“I’m clean.” I promise her when I realize why she’s asking. Idiot Harry. “Plus we’re using protection.”

“Okay.” She nods. “Okay. Good. Now come back here.”

She gasps when I sink into her and I can't help the curse that escapes.

She responds with her own impatient expletives. There’s a desperation in her voice that sets me off as her nails dig into me, like she wanted to lose herself here.

She’s present as we flow in my bed but I know when I’ve lost her, as her grip loosens and her eyelids flutter shut.

We collapse onto the bed, chests rising and falling as we finished one after the other. Her hair is splayed out on my pillow, her head resting on my arm and she looks angelic. I kiss her neck slowly, peppering kisses onto her shoulder, stroking her back. Slowly bringing her back. Gently.

"Harry,” she says my name. Breathes it. It makes my stomach drop. Something about her was stirring something within me and it was exhilarating but scary. I splay my hand on her abdomen and bend to kiss her, she’s more pliable than before, clearly spent.

"Stay here," I whisper. It’s the wrong thing to say but I don’t care about the party anymore. I just want to stay here and continue exploring this perfect woman here. Before she goes back to being the YN I knew from school. The one who I previously thought would never crawl into my bed willingly.

She blinks. "But the party-“

“Party’s fine without us for a bit.”

She smiles. "Okay. Fine."

I hold her against my chest and we stay like that. Neither of us speaking. Yet I can tell there's something on her mind. Has been most of the time we were together.

I almost ask if she wants to talk but remember she wasn’t my girlfriend, my anything. She was here to hook up not spill her feelings. I didn’t do feelings—I wasn’t anyone’s boyfriend for a reason.

Her fingers trace shapes into my chest and it feels nice. The softness is new so is the cuddling—if I stayed in bed like this with a girl it was usually to gear up for round two. But this is different, we’re simply just catching our breath and existing in this space together.

"I think I should go," she whispers, sitting up after a while.

"What?"

"Your party, won’t they notice you’re missing."

"And?”

“You should get back. Can I use your bathroom?"

"Yeah," I sit up, I didn’t think I could convince her to stay. “Through there."

She nods and walks away with a few of her items. When the door closes, I can hear her sniffling. I want to go in but it would feel like an invasion of her privacy and our boundaries. I lay back and wait.

When she comes out, her hair is brushed and her makeup is fixed. She looks like she did when she came into the party. Except she’s only got a bra on.

“You missed a spot.” I tease. She blushes, self-conscious and so different to before.

“I did,” she plays it off. “D’you see my top?”

I spot it on the floor beside me and pick it up. She waits for me to get to her and reaches for it but I hold it tight.

“Are you holding my sweater hostage now?” She asks.

“No,” I don’t know what comes over me but I scrunch it and hold it over her head. She blushes again as I pull it over which isn’t very hard with how wide the neckhole is. It drapes back down below her shoulders. I usually undressed girls, I think this was the first time I helped one get dressed.

“You’re sweeter than you look.” She says once her arms are through.

“This is just so I can undress you again,” I tease.

I kiss her sweet and slow and it takes her by surprise. She leans back a bit but then meets me again, melting into me.

“We should get you a drink.” I tell her. She needed to relax more. She was suddenly tense after what we did.

“Ok. Yeah. A drink sounds nice.”

And so I spent the rest of the night with her, and she stayed tucked beside me with a quiet strength and a whisper of a smile the whole time.

Now she’s wriggled through every fucking belief I had and got too deep into my head. I can’t stop thinking about her. About the last time we were together. About how different she was. How the girl I saw in school and the girl she was in the dark with me were like night and day.

I want her and I hate that I do.

“Where’d you go?” Zoe asks, her voice tugging me back into the moment. Her fingers brush against my arm as I zone out.

“Huh?”

“The garage isn’t that big,” she says, eyebrows raised, clearly confused by my distance.

I offer a quick grin, leaning in a little too close. “No, but you know what is?”

It’s enough to get her laughing, pulling me closer. It works—just like it always does. But even as her hands trail down my chest, I’m somewhere else.

Zoe pulls me back into the present, tugging me to the dining room packed with friends now that beer pong is over. She sits on my lap, head resting on my shoulder as one of my friends tells some story about a haunted house down the street and we’ve all drunk enough to listen aptly.

Even in the middle of this, I find my eyes drifting across the room. YN, back from her garage break. She’s talking to somebody, a friend. Her friend touches her shoulder, tucks her hair behind her ear. I remember doing that too.

My stomach sinks as I remember the way her hair felt in my hands, how I could pull it into a knot, bury my face in the warmth of her neck. Her scent was sharp and clean, like fresh laundry and something else—an addictive kind of feminine softness that I couldn’t put into words but got into my bones.

Her gaze shifts, and I catch her eyes. It’s like a punch to the chest. I can’t look away. Not now, not when I see the flicker of something in her expression—something that was there that last night together in the car.

I found out later her grandfather passed a few weeks before. He had been sick for a while and she’d practically been raised by her grandparents so she’d been so broken after it; I told myself I wasn’t going to get too involved, that it wasn’t my job to fix her, but of course I couldn’t help it. Not when her eyes grew teary and doe-like. That night I did things I swore I never would. I comforted her feelings and held her, I let my guard down.

But then I ran once I realized I was in too deep, once I felt her pulling away. I left her alone with her grief.

I feel self-loathing creeping in, sharp and insistent. What the hell am I doing? I can’t shake this feeling, this pull toward YN, it’s not supposed to be this way.

It’s her fault. I keep telling myself that, over and over, like a mantra. If she really wanted something with me, she wouldn’t have stopped replying to my texts the day after.

And when I was down there in the garage with her, it was just us. There was no one else. It was a test—she could’ve been honest. But she wasn’t. She chose to shut me out. So now I have to be cruel. I have to push aside all this stupid, complicated shit in my head and make sure she knows I’m not going to chase her down.

I shove the thoughts of YN aside, convincing myself it’s not a big deal and tighten my arm around Zoe. I tune back into the story being swapped,the groups laugh about all the pranks and fights the schools have gotten into.

They pull me in, accusing me of skipping out on the last prank.

I laugh. "Nah, mate, you should’ve seriously seen it! Last time I went down there, I almost got my ass kicked!"

"Don’t tell me you were actually scared Styles?" one of the guys pipes in.

"Scared? Nah. I call it being smart," I say, but the words come out louder, more exaggerated than I mean. I can feel YN’s eyes on me from across the room. I want her to see me having fun, see me living my life like I don’t give a shit. I want her to think this could have been her.

A small part of me knows I’m being shitty but the drunk part of me shuts it up.

I take another swig, making a point of not looking over at her, even though I can feel the weight of her gaze on the back of my neck. But my eyes betray me when she walks out of the room altogether.

-Your POV-

We make eyes from across the room. The look is so intense, it feels like he’s reaching across the space between us, pulling me in like gravity.

Why the fuck are you still looking at him, I think.

I turn back to my best friend, trying to focus on anything other than him.

“…you should spend as much time as you can with her before she moves,” she continues what she was saying. “Be mad later.”

"I’m trying to be mad later," I insist. “I’m trying to savor the time now, but…” I let out a frustrated sigh. "When I’m not there—like tonight, I’m thinking about how I’m not with her. And when I’m with her, I’m just mad and want to get away.”

“That’s so fucking complicated,” she says, staring at me like she can’t quite make sense of my mess either.

I want to explain, really I do, but it’s too much. And right now all I can hear is Harry’s laugh cutting through the noise of the room. It feels like nails on a chalkboard. But then, a beat later, I can’t stop myself from looking.

And there he is, tugging at some girl with that stupid cocky grin of his. Josie or Zoey or something, I don’t even know her name, pretty sure she was younger than us, but she was in poster club with me and even though we didn’t really talk she was cool. Part of me feels bad for her, wants to warn her.

But I wasn’t over it enough, I wasn’t that evolved as hard as I wished I was. And it didn’t matter, because it’s not about her. It’s about me. The way his hands are so familiar as they slip through her hair, and my stomach turns at the memory of how we did that once or twice.

I don’t even know what I want from him at this point.

“He’s such a dick,” my friend says, clearly reading me like a book. “He’s obviously doing that to make you jealous.”

“No, he’s not," I snap, but my voice cracks just slightly. "He doesn’t care. He’s just a player."

“Then why else would he be so damn obnoxious?” she presses, but I don’t have an answer.

At first I was hurt and confused when he straight up ghosted me when I tried to communicate with him after. Then it made me angry. And now seeing him with her—I knew who he was as a player, I didn’t expect anything different. But that night he was so different. And the callous way he’s being tonight makes my heart chip a little.

“He’s just like that,” I reply stiffly. “That’s Harry. I don’t know what I saw in that.”

She shrugs. “He was just some fun for you. You deserved to have some fun after everything at home—sorry.”

“It’s true,” I murmur, rubbing my thumb along the rim of my cup.

She didn’t have to apologize. I had been looking for a distraction, looking for something to take me away from the heaviness at home. Grandpa’s sickness. The waiting. The slow, aching loss of him. The aftermath.

“Anyway,” she continues, shaking her head at Harry’s antics across the room, “he’s usually loud, but not like this. He’s putting on a show. Dickhead. It’s his loss for ghosting you.”

I nod, but it feels hollow. Because, in a way, I ghosted him first. After that night, when he was too kind and I didn’t know how to handle it, I shut down. I avoided him the next day. But when I wanted to talk he avoided me right back. I thought he just wanted space but a few days later I see him flirting with her. He’d just ignored me and moved on.

“Guys like him end up fat or bald by the time they’re thirty,” she jokes, dragging me out of my head. “He’s just another dude—don’t waste any more time on him. Let’s go somewhere else.”

I let her pull me away, though it takes everything in me not to glance back. But as we pass, I feel his eyes on me. I know, because I feel the heat of them burning through my skin, even without turning around. I fight the urge to look. Fuck him, I think, holding my head high as we walk towards another part of the house.

-Harry’s POV-

...What the hell am I doing?

The thought has been a constant echo in my for the last week no matter how much I distract it or smother it with alcohol. I feel like I’m being haunted.

All week I see YN in the regular spots at school but it’s always a reminder of not only our time together and how different things felt with her, but also how she was going through a hard time. How I was being cruel.

Jeez is this what it was to be sensitive. I fucking hated it.

It’s after school and I’m late to leave, walking down a mostly empty hallway. And of course I catch a glimpse of her in the computer room. Probably working on yearbook or whatever other club she was in.

That’s part of why it was so surprising when she approached me that night. When she willingly became a notch in my bedpost. It only took a couple weeks to find out she had been looking for a distraction. Usually that was my forte.

I linger, my heart wanting me to go in but my head screaming at me to go. I finally choose head and start walking away. But my squeaking shoe catches her attention and she looks up.

We have an awkward stare off. She swallows and looks away.

“Do you need something?”

I don’t expect her to ask.

I walk forward and lean against the doorframe. She can pretend she’s over it all she wants, but her cheeks are pink.

"I was just helping coach with something. I saw you and…"

I don’t mean for it to come out. God why did she have to make me feel awkward. I was never awkward. I didn’t feel awkward.

“Are you doing your nerdy shit?” I try to switch gears, slip into cocky jock but she’s too real. She doesn’t let me.

“Seriously? Are you trying to make casual conversation with me again?”

“Why not?”

“Why not.” She scoffs.

“No seriously YN why the fuck not?” I demand. None of the other girls I hooked up with did this! Once we were over they either treated me like it never happened and continued being friendly, or they just moved on themselves to someone else. None of them looked at me the way she did. Bit at me like she.

You also didn’t want them like you did her.

“You’re really playing the stupid angle. Or maybe it’s not playing.” She mumbles the last part but I still catch it.

I move a few steps into the room.

She sighs. “I don’t want this cocky…jocky Harry okay?”

“Okay.” I put my hands up; I also couldn’t give her the Harry from that night if that’s what she wanted. But I let my defences down a little. “Why can’t I make conversation with you?”

“I’m pretty sure there’s an unanswered text in your phone from weeks ago? Asking to talk?”

I don’t respond. Of course there was.

She gets fed up when I don’t reply, “So if you want to talk then I’m okay to talk about that. Otherwise I’m not interested.”

“You want to talk about that?!” I go for the humiliating angle and hate myself for it. “We weren’t a couple you know that right? We were just sleeping together and then we weren’t. There’s no us to talk about.”

Her eyes are rimmed red when she looks at me, anger burning in her eyes. A part of me acknowledges the hurt.

“I. Know.” She says slowly. “I’m the one that approached you to hook up. I know we weren’t dating or something. But I dumped a bunch of baggage on you when I didn’t mean to. A-all I wanted to do was apologize like a decent person. But you’re obviously too much of a dick to understand that. You thought I was like, hung up over you and your new fling!?”

I’m dumbstruck. My pride is shot to space. She wanted to apologize? For opening up? I was a dick.

I can hear voices coming down the hall. I don’t want anyone to hear this, to tarnish my image with whatever softness was here. I push the door closed and walk to where she sits, perching on the chair next to her.

"What are you doing?" she snaps, glaring at me.

"You wanted to talk" I shoot back.

“Don’t insult me and act like you care what else I have to say Harry. I’m sure you can find some other girl around this late if you’re killing time or something.”

“I want to listen.”

“No you don’t. I got that hint pretty clearly when you ghosted me.”

"I was ghosted first," I retort, like a petulant child.

"I had a good reas—actually that wasn’t even ghosting I was just taking some space to-" her words are clipped. "I wanted to collect myself before I spoke to you. Make sure I was in the right headspace. You on the other hand had no reason to cut me off."

"Cut you off?” I challenge.

"What's your excuse?" she rolls her eyes.

"I wasn’t ghosting you I-it-it's just wasn’t that deep," I say, trying to sound casual. Way to go you stuttering idiot.

She stares at me, a million emotions flickering on her face. I can almost hear her say it that night was deep to me. Or maybe it’s my own voice saying it.

But then her face blanks, like she’s given up.

"Well, whatever. I'm sorry," she replies even though I expect her to continue arguing with me.

I stare; her hair was pulled away from her face today into a half bun thing and her lips are glossed. I know what they taste like and that thought makes my stomach dip and lose focus.

She must think I’m confused because she sighs, “for dumping my baggage on you and for making you uncomfortable? M’sorry for asking you to handle me with care when we were just hooking up. I don’t-“

“Stop.” I can’t handle it anymore. “That’s enough already.”

How was she still somehow decent. Why did she make me feel like I wanted to protect her, tuck her away and save her. It scared me. I never felt this way—girls were just fun.

"I'm not mad," I say, the words tumbling out of me. "I just didn't know how to respond, okay?"

"That's why people say things," she snaps, exasperated. "Discuss things so you can sort out what to say.”

“Look,” I snap. “You’re obviously the most…I don’t fucking know. I don’t normally do this. You’re the most serious or…mature person I’ve ever…hooked up with? Nobody…I don’t know what I’m doing ok? I’m out of my fucking depth here.”

“And I know.” She emphasizes. “That’s why I said I was sorry!”

“No! Not like that I’m not trying to make you feel bad-“

We quiet as a group of people walk past the door, in the silence I realize how loud we’d gotten. She must too.

She leans forward, her tone serious. "Do you actually want to talk about it?"

I swallow, trying to collect myself. Trying not to get lost in her eyes. Trying to ignore the tugging in my stomach, the desire to touch her.

“Obviously not. But I’m trying to not be a dick or whatever.”

"Can we start with the text first?" She crosses her arms.

"Ok," I sigh, dragging my hands down my face. "I'm sorry for ignoring you. It's just easier for me if I'm an asshole.”

It’s easier to apologize now that she has. Easier to want to be decent and not cruel. For a second I glimpse us reconciling, her allowing me to touch her with a tenderness I’ve never felt before.

So I backtrack. I couldn’t do this open honest shite. I had to wrap it up tell her I couldn’t do feelings. This wasn’t me. I wasn’t me around her.

“I didn’t mind that you wanted someone to talk to. Like it was a lot but…I don’t do that sort of thing. I’m used to hooking up and no messy feelings okay? And you didn’t text me back the next day so I moved on. But didn’t realize you wanted to apologize.”

“Okay…”

“No hard feelings seeing me with other people though—like, I’m chill if you wanted to hang out some time but-

“That’s alright.” Her jaw clenches, I get the sense that I’m saying all the wrong things. And yet I feel so desperate and clingy inside.

“Not that-I get why you were uhm…” I freeze. I’ve never had a reaction like this—I’m just frozen.

She studies me and I try not to squirm. I’m afraid of what the results of her study show her.

“Right.”

We sit in an awkward silence until I can find my voice. “It was a lot. And I wanted to ignore it.”

“Yeah. Yep. I got that. Thanks.”

She was done. I wrack my brain. She was just apologizing and now she’s trying to end the conversation.

“Is that it?” I ask when her eyes flick back to her screen, now a screensaver.

“I guess so.” She says. And I’m stumbling over my thoughts to think of something else to say. All this time she really was just mad that I didn’t reply? She just wanted to apologize and go back like nothing ever happened. All those biting words and hurtful glares weren’t because I was with another girl?

Was I imagining all that fucking chemistry?

“You got…it out of your system?”

“Yeah!?” She glances at me. “I’m fine. I know what I know—I’m just a girl and you’re just another dude right? I got to say what I wanted. Two ships passing in the night and all that.”

“Yeah. Oh yeah okay. Alright.”

I’m dumbstruck yet again as my feet move me away from her. Out of the classroom. I stand there for a few just thinking of this feeling. Of tables turned.

She didn’t actually like me like…more?

The questions carry me home. My sister takes one look at me and laughs.

“Girl problems?”

“No.” I bite.

“Really? Because this looks like girl problems. L-o-v-e problems.”

“Shut up.” I want her to stop poking at the soft place.

“Fine,” she shrugs.

“I’m fine.”

“Hmph,” she eyes me. “I can say it’s nice to see you getting a taste of your medicine Har. Girls aren’t just playthings.”

I ignore her and she heads to her room, calling out “Pass me her details later I’m gonna write her a thank you card.”

…a taste of your own medicine. Girl’s aren’t just playthings.

“Hey I don’t think-“ I try to argue but she’s already in her room, door closed.

I didn’t think girls were playthings. But the girls I hooked up with we just had fun. They knew it.

What if some of them walked away from it like you are now, a voice in my head whispers. I want to shut it up. Shut it out.

I grab my phone, hit up Zoe and when she says she’s busy I find someone else in my phone. I needed to get this feeling out of my system.

But still, when I crawl into bed at 2 in the morning after being out all night, I’m wide awake thinking about her so hard I swear I see her in the brushstrokes of my ceiling.

All along I had just been punishing myself; that was the only prize I had to show for all this.

It all comes crashing down on me. I feel like a part of me was hollowed out, thinking I was fine but it was coming from a coffin. Because everything my sister said, everything YN said—every single thing was all so true.

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