Art | Harry Styles

9

"Have you played before?"

She's pouring the final drops of beer into her final cup, eyes concentrating on the translucent liquid filling each plastic container. She glances up at him, and he purses his lips.

"Yeah," he lies, adding a, "once or twice," in hopes to seem more convincing.

"Great," she smiles a knowing smile. He wasn't lying completely.. he'd seen the game played in movies.. once or twice..

"So, you need six on your side," she tells him, ignoring his false declaration of having played the game before, "and I need six on mine."

She goes to stand beside him, eyeing the cups before reaching for one, placing it on her side. He gets the message, reaching for a cup and placing it on his own side. He reaches for another, just as Sophie does the same - the same exact cup. Their fingers brush over one another's, and Harry quickly jumps back in response to the leaping in his chest, eyes widening. Sophie catches his reaction, the flushing of his cheeks, and bites back a grin, reaching for a different cup and allowing him to take the one causing him such distress.

Harry exhales, closing his eyes briefly. He's so nervous. Why is he so nervous?

He takes the cup and sets it down on his side, hoping that she doesn't think he's a complete weirdo, but he's certain that she does. He mutters a curse directed at himself under his breath, laying out the last of his cups into a triangle formation.

"Okay," Sophie places a hand either side of her cups, leaning forward slightly, "let's do it."

She shoves one of the balls into her back pocket, taking the other and holding it between her forefinger and thumb. She goes to throw it, but then catches the anxious look on Harry's face, and tilts her head a little.

"You can start," she tosses him the ball, watching him chew on his lip nervously - perhaps it'll ease his nerves if she drinks first. She swears his hand is shaking as he hesitantly raises his hand and throws the ball; it miraculously lands in her middle cup, and she raises her eyebrows, a chuckle leaving her lips.

A small, victorious smile tugs at his lips, his shoulders drawing back a little more as they aren't completely tense at this point - calm down, Harry, calm down, he continues to tell himself.

She picks up the cup, her neatly manicured fingers closing around it as she tilts her head back and drains it in just over a few seconds. Harry watches in disbelief, as she places the empty cup down away from her collection of full cups, and she licks her lips briefly.

"It's a skill for my resume," she teases his shock, the ball from the cup still in her grip as she now focuses on aiming into Harry's cup. Harry takes a sharp intake, as she takes her shot, and it lands in his cup.

"Fuck," he mumbles, and Sophie giggles as he does his part, bringing the cup to his lips. The bitter liquid touches his lip, and he visibly winces, wrinkling his nose.

"You don't have to drink it, Harry," she tells him genuinely, hugging his coat around her as a gust of wind rushed through the night air, knocking her empty cup over.

"Deal's a deal," he murmurs, and as she goes to object he's already brought the cup to his lips, taking a short while longer than she did but knocking the drink back all the same. Her eyes widen as a surprised laugh leaves her lips, Harry drinking the bitter drink from the cup. He sets the cup down, eyes squinting shut as he coughs in what seems like disgust, pushing his hair back with his spare hand.

As the cool liquid slips down his throat, it's impossible not to cringe. He brings his wrist over his lips, wiping the alcohol from them as he already feels the icy liquid in his stomach. He feels sick, but he feels alive.