Misadventure

29

Harry's POV

"You're rushing through the ending," Mrs. Ramirez told me. "Start over from measure 64. This time, slow it down."

I nodded absentmindedly and flipped the sheet music back to the previous page. The paper stuck to my clammy hands, and I shook it off. It fell to the floor. I quickly bent down to grab it, muttering a quiet apology.

I attempted playing through the song's ending again, but I could not get my hands to stop shaking.

"Slow it down." She sounded a little irritated, and she kept glancing at the clock.

Concentrating on the music, I was able to slower my pace. Then without meaning to, I found myself falling back into the same frantic tempo as before.

"Okay, stop." The professor frowned. "You're clearly distracted by something."

Distracted was an understatement. My mind was totally preoccupied with thoughts of Louis. Normally, playing piano was the one foolproof way I could take my mind off of anything, but apparently Louis Tomlinson was the exception.

"Maybe we should call it good for today," she suggested. "There's only five minutes left anyways."

"Five minutes?" Now I was glancing at the clock. It was only 12:25. I was scheduled to be here until 1:00.

"I've had to cut your time in half for today. It was in the email I sent out. I've got a student coming in for extra credit, and this was the only way I could fit them in," she explained.

No wonder I hadn't got the memo; I was the type of person to avoid checking my school email account like it was the plague.

As I gathered my things and left from my private lesson, I was even more scatter brained than I had been this morning.

Did I over reacted before? Had my own family history made me see the whole Louis drinking situation as a bigger issue than it really was? It was normal for college students to drink.

I walked down the sidewalk, boots crunching over leaves, thinking back on my conversation with Dad last time I was home. How he regretting reacting so explosively when he found Mum's needle in the trash.

Regardless of whether or not Louis' drinking was currently at a problem level, the way I confronted him was all wrong. Now I feared I had drawn an irrevocable line in the sand, shifting the dynamic between us. I wanted him to feel like I was a safe person to turn to, and I blew it.

He still hadn't spoken to me since that day. And while I wanted to respect him and give him space if that was what he needed, I was also growing more and more worried about him by the day.

****

"Harry?"

"Erm, hiya." I waved nervously.

"Louis isn't here, sorry."

"That's fine, um... I was hoping I could talk to you actually. Do you have a minute?"

Confusion flashed briefly across Zayn's features. If I had blinked I would have missed it. Then he was back to his cool, composed self, opening the door for me and letting me in as though we'd ever engaged in any real sort of conversation before.

"Want tea? I'm putting some on for myself anyways."

I almost turned down his offer out of instinct, not wanting to impose. But then I realized it might help calm me down, so I nodded, following him into the dorm. Inside it smelled like cigarette smoke and acrylic paint, but it wasn't exactly unpleasant.

He shut the door behind us and headed for the kitchenette. "You can have a seat on the couch. I'll join you in a minute."

I sat down, letting my eyes wander around the room. There were several things that caught my attention, the first being a massive collection of empty bottles under one of the beds.