Capture

Burning Bridges

I shifted slightly, adjusting myself against him. He grunted softly in his sleep.

"What's wrong?" he mumbled, half awake.

"Shh, nothing. Go back to sleep, babe," I whispered, trying to get comfortable again.

"I would—if you hadn't woken me up," he answered, eyes still closed. It amazed me how his sarcastic sense of humor survived even in his sleep.

"You were snoring. I can't sleep when you're rumbling like a freight train, Li," I grumbled.

"I don't snore," he argued.

"Just like you don't eat," I snapped back.

"I could argue with you, but I'm too tired," Liam yawned, rubbing my back as I settled back into his arms.

"Please, you could argue in your sleep," I shot back.

"Evidently, so can you," he laughed—a warm, hearty chuckle that vibrated in his chest. I laughed with him.

"I guess you could say you bring out the best in me."

"I do love feisty women," Liam muttered.

"Go back to bed, you moron," I grumbled, making him chuckle again.

"I'm going to remember you called me a moron in the morning, Doll face," he warned.

"I doubt you'll remember anything about tonight," I teased.

"Oh, you just wait. I remember a lot of things, and you'll rue the day you called me moronic."

"Rue the day?" I repeated, amused. "It's two in the morning, and you're talking like Shakespeare."

"I am an intellectual being, love. Genius like mine doesn't keep office hours," he said, slipping into his best posh British accent, sounding all the more proper.

I laughed out loud at him. "You're certainly full of it." I pecked him on the lips, moonlight catching the white of his teeth as he smiled in the dark.

"If you kiss me again, I'll promise to stop talking and go right to sleep," he whispered.

"I highly doubt that's true, but any excuse to make out with you, I'll take," I teased.

"That's what I was hoping you'd say, babe." He kissed me, and I melted into his touch. Our lips joined like Velcro, fitting perfectly against each other.

A loud crash echoed from the hallway as Liam and I jumped apart, hearts racing. The noise kept coming, and Liam instinctively stepped in front of me—a remarkable move considering he could barely move without turning green. He headed toward the door, eyes sharp despite the darkness.

From the corner of the room, he grabbed something. I barely recognized it before he swung it over his shoulder—a baseball bat.

"What are you going to do with that?" I whispered, panic creeping into my voice.

Liam turned, squinting at me in the dim light. "Oh, I thought I'd have a rational chat with the bloke terrorizing my apartment. Maybe invite him to the baseball league at work," he snarled sarcastically. "What do you think I'm going to do?"

"A baseball bat? You idiot, call the cops!" I snapped, anger flashing through my fear.

Liam raised a finger to his lips, silencing me as he peered through the peephole. His shoulders finally relaxed, and he let the bat drop to his side.
"It's just Styles," he whispered.

"Harry?" I asked, stepping forward as Liam stepped aside. "What the hell is he doing making all that noise in the middle of the night?"

A booming shout echoed from my apartment door. "EMMA!" I watched Harry's back through Liam's door as he pounded relentlessly, clearly thinking I was inside my own place.

"He's drunk," Liam observed, flicking on the kitchen light. The sudden brightness made me blink.

"EMMA, OPEN THE DAMN DOOR!" Harry's voice rose, more frantic and desperate.

"What are you doing?" I asked Liam as he moved to unlock his door.

"Emma, the longer he waits out there, the louder and angrier he'll get."

I groaned, tugging Liam's hand to pull him back. "Babe, I broke up with him, then immediately got with you. He hates me. I don't think he can get much more aggressive or agitated than he already is."

"Emma! I'm not leaving until you come out and talk to me!" Harry shouted again. "YOU FUCKING OWE ME THAT MUCH!"

I sighed, the edge of dread creeping into my chest. "Or maybe he can."

Liam pulled me close, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. "Babe, I'm right here. Just talk to him."

I nodded, squeezing Liam's hand, then pressed a quick kiss to his lips—steeling myself with the brief surge of courage—before opening the door.

The door creaked open slowly, cracking on its hinges, and Harry spun around, swaying as he tried to focus on the sound. "Harry," I greeted him softly, my voice hesitant.

He looked me up and down, a bitter edge to his voice. "Of course you're in his apartment, not yours."

Only then did I notice how ridiculous I must look—wearing an oversized pair of Liam's red plaid boxers and a slouchy, off-the-shoulder, moth-eaten shirt I'd practically worn to death. Definitely not the impression I wanted to make when facing my ex.

"Harry, it's the middle of the night, and you're drunk. You should go home before you embarrass yourself," I said gently, trying to soothe the tension between us.

He swallowed hard and asked quietly, the sadness bleeding through his words: "Why him?"

I hesitated. "I don't know."

His voice cracked, laced with raw frustration. "You hate him. More than I've ever seen anyone hate another person."

I swallowed, looking away. "Things changed, I guess."

"How can you say that? After you gave yourself to me, after you fucked me?" he sneered, his voice dripping with bitterness and hurt.

Liam suddenly stepped out from behind the door, tension radiating off him. "Watch your mouth, Styles!" he snapped, his protective anger raw and urgent.

I put my hand firmly on Liam's chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath my palm, and gently but insistently pushed him back inside. My voice trembled, but I kept my gaze steady. "You brought me out here to talk to him... so let me finish this."

"You don't love him!" Harry spat, his voice rough and accusing from behind me. "How can you love two men at once unless you're a whore?" His drunken slur didn't soften the blow—his words cut deep, each syllable like a jagged shard, and his smug, victorious grin seared itself into my mind.

Liam tensed, stepping forward as if to confront him, but I caught Liam's wrist, holding him back with a quiet strength.

I spun around sharply and slapped Harry hard across the cheek. He staggered back, crashing into my door. The sting of my hand shocked me, but I didn't hesitate.

"Don't flatter yourself," I hissed, my voice low and fierce. "I never loved you."

Inside, my mind screamed that it was a lie—painful and raw—but my jaw clenched tight, determined to silence the truth before it could escape.

"You BITCH!" He snapped angrily.

"You're a drunk bastard," I said, my voice sharp and unwavering, "and you probably won't remember a word of this in the morning, but I'm going to say it anyway." I stepped closer, locking eyes with him as he stood there, stunned and silent. "We both knew from the start it was only a matter of time before this ended. And in all that time, you knew I would never choose you."

I spun on my heel and made my way back to Liam's door. "Go sleep it off, Harry," I spat one last time before stepping inside, falling straight into Liam's waiting arms as I slammed the door behind me.

"Since when did you become such a badass Doll face?" Liam asked, a grin spreading across his face.

I laughed softly, wrapping my arms around him. "I told you—you bring out the best in me, remember?" He pulled me close as he guided me back to bed, and I felt the tension finally start to melt away.