exposed [h.s.] ❁ sequel

1. Old Friends

This is it. No backing out now.

The pounding of my heartbeat floods
my ears, the dim lighting of the room causing my eyes to squint. But I wouldn't be able to focus on my surroundings anyway;
my nerves made sure of that.
As I take planned steps, balancing on
my heels as to not lose contact with
the ground and faint, the room spins,
and someone talks to me in a muffled tone.

"Huh?" A quaking groan rumbles in the
back of my throat and at first I'm not
sure if that noise came from me.

"I said," the woman, visibly shorter than me thanks to the wobbling heels I'm sporting, begins again. "Would you like to wait on your guest a bit longer?"

I nod, mainly to convince myself.
"Yes. He'll be here."

She rests the laminated menus down
on the tabletop, biting her bottom lip
as if to tell me she doesn't believe he will. But he has to.

I take my seat, alone at a table for two. My eyes fix on the entrance to the restaurant, heart jumping each time someone walks through the door.
None of them are him, though.
I smooth the ends of my dress;
a nervous habit.
I've been waiting on him for over thirty minutes, but it's not like him to stand me up. Not after all this time.

As the last ounce of hope dies within me, and the waiter brings me my second glass of water, I see a familiar head of blonde hair peer around the corner. I stand from my seat,
smiling bright with
disappointment knawing at me.

"Niall?" I say, wrapping my arms around his shoulders as he embraces me. "What are you doing here?"

He lets few friendly chuckles pass his lips, fixing his tie once we let go of each other. "Surprised to see me?"

"I have to admit," I bite my lip, shaking away the embarrassment.
"I was expecting someone else, but I am so happy to see you again."

I offer for him to sit, and he does.
There is something behind his eyes that tells me why he is here.

"Well, about that," he begins,
folding his hands together atop the table. He parts his lips to speak, but frowns suddenly; deciding how to break the news to me.

"How is," I begin with false confidence, my fingers playing nervously with a set silver utensils. "...he. How is he?"

It's strange that I haven't spoken his name in over a year, or even heard his voice through a speaker. He promised to keep in touch, but promises were made to be broken.
I just thought I was more important than that, though.

"Harry is fine," Niall promises, sending waves of guilt and loneliness down my spine. I should have realized he would be better off without me, since I was the one dragging him down all along.
"He was nervous when you called."

I perk up, resting my hands at my lap. My fingers pinch the material of the dress as my heartbeat echoes loudly in my ears. "But he couldn't bring himself to show, right?"

Niall smiles sympathetically, reaching his hand across the table for me to take. I lay my palm against his as his thumb circles over my skin softly. "And that's why I'm here. Of course
I wanted to see you, but Harry--
he's just so busy, you know?"

My tongue clicks on the roof of my mouth as I slide my hand away from his, wrapping it around my drink. Before the liquid touches my lips,
I mumble, "Busy."

"I didn't mean it like that, Saw,"
Niall frowns, slumping his shoulders slightly. My mouth falls agape at the nickname Harry had given me toward the end of our relationship. I frown, shaking that name away, though I can almost hear him whisper it in my ear.