Artwork [h.s]

twenty-one

The next day I entered the building, a feeling of nervousness settling into my chest at the thought of seeing Harry again.

Even though I'd had the whole night to think of what had happened, I felt like I'd come nowhere close to solving the issue.

The truth was, I liked Harry. I liked him way more than I would've ever wanted to admit. But he wasn't the kind of person it made sense for someone like me to spend time with. He wasn't good for me. His presence was addicting, but paralysing at the same time. And the fact that he didn't even know his current girlfriend's name made me think that, even if not by his actions, he was a player at heart. He attracted people to him like a light attracts moths in the darkness, but he didn't seem to care about them. It was obvious. He cared about nobody but himself. And knowing it, I couldn't help but wonder if he'd kissed me to play some kind of fucked up game with me. It was in his nature, after all. He sat back, looking at the world and silently judging everyone and everything. How could I tell whether he'd done it because he truly felt like it, or because he just wanted to see what my reaction would've been?

I couldn't. And I couldn't allow myself to trust him.

For that reason I had to gather the feelings of mine that were scattered on the ground and ignore what my gut wanted, and walk inside with my head held up high as if I didn't regret my actions of the day before. Because I did. The soft touch of his lips on mine had been haunting my mind ever since, I could still taste the sweetness of something I couldn't quite put my finger on on my tongue. I was a goner.

It turned out that all my worries had no reason to exist, because he didn't sit next to me that day, nor he came to keep me company during our free period.

I felt kind of lonely, but at the same time I knew that I'd done the right thing. Besides, he probably regretted it way more than I did. I wasn't what someone like him would've gone for, and I bet he knew it as well. I wasn't popular, or particularly good looking, or particularly interesting. I was just average, and I enjoyed being average. But he didn't look like the kind of person that enjoyed anything average. He attracted everyone's attention, and he seemed to love doing so. I wasn't his kind of thing. And the fact that he'd disappeared from my life as soon as I'd shown him I wouldn't have been played by him just proved it.

I spent the whole day listening to Ella's insistent chatter about things I really couldn't have cared less about, glad that at least she wasn't trying to convince me to go out with Aiden again. I kept glancing in Harry's direction whenever we were in the same room or corridor in what I hoped was a casual way. Despite what had happened and what I'd led myself to believe, I was still drawn to him. More like, I felt even more drawn to him than usual. I had to force myself not to cross the room and go to him and ask him the meaning of his actions.

"Okay, what's wrong?" A voice distracted me from my thoughts.

I turned to look at Ella. "Nothing."

"That's a lie" she replied fast. "What, did you finally realise that Harry doesn't care about you?"

I looked down as we walked down the few steps outside, knowing that she was right. She'd been right all this time, I'd been an idiot to even believe someone like Harry could've ever truly liked me. He'd played his cards so well that he'd led me to believe he was interested in me, but the truth was so far away from that. I just felt stupid at that point.

"I knew it" she replied under her breath at my lack of response. "Not gonna lie, it isn't surprising at all. That's just how it is."

I looked up just to see that Harry was sitting on the bench again, looking completely unaffected by what had happened, with Janette on his lap, next to his dark haired friend and a somewhat annoyed looking Niall. I glanced down as we walked past them, not wanting to know whether he'd looked at me or not.