Harry's POV
I'd been pacing back and forth in my mind for the past few days; unable to put my thoughts to rest. Sophia's dad's approval of our relationship had made it ten times harder for me to tell her about my proposed scholarship, and one hundred times harder for me to actually reach my final decision.
Don't get me wrong, I'd tried to tell her. I really had. But each time it came down to it, I'd recoil back into a nervous mess and the words would end up getting locked deep in the back of my throat, to which she'd laugh and I'd hurriedly change the subject. Perhaps the worst thing, though, was that I'd been intentionally distancing myself from her...not replying to text messages straight away, not calling her each night before we went to sleep... You know, the little things that come hand in hand with being in love.
Writing down the final proposal in my draft essay, I was knocked from my thoughts with a sharp vibration ringing across the table. I flicked my eyes up from the page to see her name dancing across the screen of my phone, and my heart practically lurched into my mouth. I reached over to it and opened the message.
"Hey you,Hope you're okay. Can't wait to see you tomorrow! I hope you've got your suit ready! Love you x"
Shit. With everything going on right now, I'd completely forgotten to get a suit. Without replying, I quickly opened up a new message and immediately started tapping away desperately.
"Niall. Urgent. Meet me in 30 minutes in town for some suiting and booting."
He was the one person I knew would drop what he was doing in my somewhat panicked and trivial time of need, and as if right on cue, I received a message back from him with a set location and some typically humorous Niall-esque comment.
*
"You are actually so stupid.", Niall laughed as we strolled into the shop, hundreds of possible suits, ties, shirts and even socks welcoming us.
"How could you forget getting a suit?"
"I have stuff on my mind, okay?", I retaliated, the edge I'd been on lately obvious in my voice as I shot my words at my blonde friend.
"Other than thinking about which shampoo makes your hair the fluffiest?"
"Yes."
"Like what?", he asked as he looked through a few shirts on a hanger.
"Well...", I began, nervous about putting the facts into words. If I couldn't even tell my best friend, how the hell was I supposed to tell Sophia? Suck it up, I told myself. And so I did.
"I got a scholarship."
"Wow, man, that's amazing! Which Uni?", Niall said, patting my shoulders.
"École Normale Supérieure", I replied.
"What?", he laughed, "Where the hell is that?"
"In France.", I muttered back, suddenly taking a large interest in one of the cufflinks.
"What?"
"Yeah, the scholarship is in France..."
I glanced up at him as the words left my lips, hoping for some reassurance or words of comfort. Instead, he stood there staring in front of him at the rail of shirts in complete silence.
"Say something then," I urged, feeling more and more uneasy as the seconds dragged past.
"I don't really know what to say, mate." he mumbled, clearing his throat as his words almost choked out with disbelief. "Congratulations."
"Is that it?" I laughed, cocking my head as I tried to get his attention from the rail in front.
He turned to face me, eyes still wide with shock and mouthends horizontally spread across his face, conveying little emotion.
