Eight | W2S

TWENTY SIX.

(Sorry. I'm going to hide in a time out corner for a while now.)

In all honesty, I'd completely forgotten I'd agreed to this stupid twenty vs one video. After everything that had happened in the last month and a half, this had been at the bottom of my mind.

But now it was in front of me, and it was all I could think about.

"It won't be that bad," I tell a very moody Harry, who is sulking on my sofa. "It's just a video, it'll only be awkward for me."

"Only awkward for you? Are you joking me?" He asks, standing up from his position. "I've got to sit there and watch you go on dates with men —" he interrupts, sighing with frustration.

"They aren't serious dates, I'm sure all the guys will fuck me over. You know how it is! You've done it yourself," I argue back, feeling a little frustrated with his lack of understanding.

"That's not the point, Kenzie, and you know it," he tells me, looking at me seriously. "I just — it's different now."

I shoot him a sympathetic look. "I know, look — I get it, I do. But I can't just suddenly turn round and say I don't want to do the video. I'm sorry."

"Why?" He asks, breaking his usual habit of accepting the end of the conversation.

Incredulously, I look at him. "Why?!"

"Yeah. Why?" He asks stubbornly.

"Harry — I can't even believe you're seriously asking me why? Because our crew is currently setting up the studio? Because there are paid extras on set? Because I made an agreement and I'm not going to back out of it just because you're having a funny five minutes?" I shoot back, the words tumbling out of my mouth before I had a chance to think.

He looks shocked at my outburst, and I can't blame him. "I guess I'll go have my funny five minutes at my own place, then," he says, grabbing his jumper from last night, walking past me to my door.

"Harry — wait," I call out after him, and he pauses, looking not at me, but down at the floor.

"I'll see you at the shoot, Kenzie," he says, walking out of my apartment, closing the door gently behind him.

It was the first time we'd ever left something like this unresolved. We'd had our disagreements about our — arrangement, friendship, situationship — however it could be defined. But none of them had led to either of us walking out.

"Oh, fuck sake," I grumble, quickly sliding into my trainers, opening the door. I hear the elevator ding, and the doors close with Harry inside of them. "Oh fuck off," I whisper shout, heading for the stairs.

It was now that I realised I was very unfit, but I powered through, racing down several flights of stairs, all the way to the lobby.

I was red in the face and panting by the time I was there, and headed straight for the elevator.

He hadn't gotten to the lobby yet. I'd beaten him.

In another circumstance, I might've been cocky about that, but right now I needed to fix things with Harry. He was hurt. His hurt was my fault.

The doors opened, and Harry looked up from where he'd been staring at the floor.

It took him a moment, but he realised it was me — albeit, very sweaty and probably very unattractive, but it was me.

"What are you doing?" He asked, as I blocked the exit to the elevator.

"Getting in the elevator," I tell him innocently, walking in, the door shutting behind me.