Italy In The Spring [h.s]

14

an: uh... don't kill me k thx <3

•••••

"Rora."

My brain snaps back into focus, spotting Harry sitting right across from me.

Still inside the café.

Timmy doesn't look mad.

Harry looks blank.

I blink in confusion and glance all around me.

Did I not just kiss Harry? Did we not just have that entire argument outside? What the fuck?

"We're leaving, Rora. You zoned out," Liam speaks again and I cut my eyes to him.

What the fuck?

No, because what the actual fuck?

"You okay, Beauty?" Timmy laughs softly before taking a sip of his drink.

My mouth remains slightly open, trying to fix my scrambled mind and find the words that refuse to fall from my lips.

Everyone looks calm and content, finishing up the last of their food and acting as if I didn't just jump into Harry's arms and kiss him senseless. There's not a single trace of awkward energy in the air, the same people still in the same seats, Timmy's arm still draped across the back of my chair. Harry keeps his eyes down while he pushes his food around on his plate, no hint of me ever kissing him showing in his body language.

And I called him my Capolavoro. For the first time in two years.

"Did I not just fucking kiss you?" I finally blurt out to Harry, everyone at the table going immediately quiet and still. "Did we not just have an argument outside?"

"Rory, what the actual hell are you talking about?" Louis chuckles nervously. "You've been sitting here the entire time."

I shake my head and keep my eyes trained on Harry, "No. Harry and I left and had an argument that led to us kissing. Right in front of the café." I turn to Timmy who looks equally confused and a bit mad. "And you saw. You were watching from the window."

"Aurora, none of that happened," Timothée says with an even tone, trying to hide all of his emotions. "Why do you think it did?"

"Because it did!" I half-yell in frustration. "I swear it did!"

"It fucking didn't!" Timmy snaps back, anger fully weaving its way into his voice.

My breathing is coming out quick and uneven. Confusion stays planted in the very front of my mind and my mind is racing a million miles a fucking hour. It was real. It had to be real. It felt real. There's no way it was all in my head. No fucking way.

I don't know what to say next, darting my eyes around the table in an attempt to find my answer there. They're messing with me, right? Some sick, twisted way of messing with my head. Making me feel like shit for kissing Harry while I'm with Timothée, so they're all playing dumb and I just lost the last five minutes where we came back inside and decided to sit down and act like nothing happened.

"It happened," I choke out in a whisper, looking down at the table while trying to gather my thoughts. "It happened."

"Rora, you're not making any sense," Timothée huffs in frustration while everyone else remains silent.

Tears form along my waterline, frustration tugging on the strings of my heart. I'm not going crazy. I'm not. It happened. I kissed Harry. Timothée saw us.

Maybe I am going insane.

"Tell me this is all a joke and it happened," I look up again, searching Harry's eyes to see if he'll give in. "You guys are playing some sick game on me."