november
contains a somewhat mature scene
Harry knows that what he just did might've been a little shitty. A little bit of an ásshole-y move. And he's staring at the place where Bella and Zayn (fúcking Zayn) just disappeared from, and he rakes his brain, looking for an answer as to why he's being like this.
Why did he just do that? And why did that make Bella want to leave? The people in the booth must be pretty stupid if they hadn't discovered what a lie of an excuse that was. Because, they weren't leaving for Zayn's benefit. They were leaving for Bella's. She wanted to exit the booth first.
Harry might be a little hazy from the alcohol and the two beers he ordered for himself the moment Bella stepped out of the club, but he knows that this small fire burning inside his stomach is only one thing: jealousy. So then, he thinks about why he's jealous of a person who just left with Bella, who had his arm wrapped around her the whole time, who Bella actually talked to.
It is with little time that Harry realises now just how he feels for her. He realises that the crush he thought he got over with those three years has just begun coming back to him, in only a month of being closer together. He enjoys her company (in the little time they have it because Bella always walks away first) and he wants to comfort her from nightmares and protect her from further situations, like the ones in New York.
He knows that if he had jumped on that plane with her, had accepted to go to NYU instead of denying and staying at home to keep her mother company, then he would've been there to avoid the three situations that Bella had to come across on her own. The overdose wouldn't have happened, nor the coma, nor the pregnancy scare.
He could've been there for her but he failed. And now he's sat in the booth of a club with a girl draped over his lap, a girl that he likes, yes, but not as much as he adores being with Bella. It could've been her draped over his lap and giving him sloppy kisses up and down his neck. It could've been her running her hand higher and higher up his thigh. It could've been her lips brushing over his in the daze. But it's Paige.
They're alone in the booth now, Gemma, Brad, Niall and Krystal having left for the dance floor, and she's still on his lap. He wants to push her off. Instead, he brushes a piece of her hair behind her ear to tuck it and leans forward, "We need to talk."
Paige struggles to open her eyes, but she can clearly see how this 'talk' isn't going to be a good one. She can only nod.
"I think we should break up," he says as his arms fall limp around her and he places them by his sides.
"What?" she blinks her eyes a bit and sits up.
"I think we should break up."
"What? Why? What did I do wrong?"
Harry shakes his head and he's about to say 'It's not you, it's me', but it's so cliché he might as well just kill himself. Paige deserves a good reason behind it but he isn't too sure if he can tell her 'because I might still have feelings for my ex (ex?) best friend.'
Paige sighs and moves away from his lap to stand by the booth, extending her hand in front of him. "Come on, let's get you home."
"But I want to break up with you. I am breaking up with you," he thinks he sees two Paige's but then he shakes his head around and there's one. Oh, there pops the other one again.
"Come on, Harry, you're drunk. I'll get you home," one of them takes a hold of his hand and pulls him up by her side. There's only one now. Where did the other go? It's good at least because then he just has to break up with one instead of two.
