Cherry Bomb [h.s]

36

Harry

My phone buzzes on my chest as we pull into the parking area of our Wichita hotel. The screen lights up with two unread messages, one from Spencer and one from Shark. I already know what Spencer's text says. As for Shark, I don't know. I've been ignoring them. 

I know I had agreed to work with Shark again, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. Not yet, anyway. It still felt... wrong. Too early, or something. 

I don't know what's wrong with me. 

"You good, Styles?" Niall asks as he passes by my cot.

"Yeah, why?" I respond, my voice monotone.

"We've been parked for five minutes now, and you haven't even budged from your spot." He points out.

"It's not illegal for me to lay here," I shrug.

"Touché."

I let out a long breath and force myself to sit up anyway, stretch, and pivot my feet to the floor.

Sitting on the edge of the bottom bunk, I run a hand through my hair as I look for my sneakers.

"Harry," Niall speaks again, and I look over to him standing in the doorway of the bus.

"Yeah?"

"If you ever need to... talk about anything, something bothering you or whatever, you know I'm here for you, right?" He gives a small smile, but I can tell he's super uncomfortable asking this. We don't usually get personal like that.

"Sure," I reply, "And then afterwards we can have a pillow fight."

"Oh... yeah, a pillow fight." He lets out a short laugh and looks down, and I can tell I hurt him. Normally I would just let him walk away and get over it on his own, but I've been feeling sentimental recently.

"It's a nice offer, Niall," I say, "But I'm fine. Really."

"Okay," he nods, "See you in there, I guess. If you ever make it out of here."

"Right," I force a chuckle.

He gives one last glance towards me, like he's expecting me to say something more. But I stay silent, so he leaves.

In the still silence, I slowly gather up my things and try to shake this feeling that I do need to talk to someone about whatever's going on with me. The anxiety about Spencer and Shark, Johnny Marx, it's all just building up. 

It doesn't help that I haven't released any tension for weeks now. I haven't even so much as looked in anyone's direction in a coy way, or even thought about anyone in that way. Well, except for one person in particular. 

I just need to go find a one-night, get it over with. Get me out of this slump I'm in. 

As I walk into the lobby, I see Spencer waiting at the elevators. Her hair falls down over her shoulders messily, a slight wave to it. She's wearing an oversized t-shirt, her shorts just peeking out beneath. As I approach, she hears and looks my way. Remnants of last night's under-eyeliner is smudged beneath her lash-line, the rest of her face bare. And her eyes still sparkle when they catch mine.

She snaps her head back to the glowing display between the elevators, and lets out a sigh when it pauses once again. 

"I've been waiting for five minutes now," she says, "You'd think a fancy hotel would have faster elevators."

"It's a busy weekend," I reply. 

"Still," she reaches over and mashes the up button a few times, even though it was already lit, "I don't want to take the stairs, I'm on the top floor."