*ON HAITUS* Unknown. || h.s

Eight.

...

Harry's POV.

"Styles, I can't say I ever expected to see you here."

Peter walks up to the small table where I'm sat, sweat glistening on his forehead from the lights on the small stage he was just on. He pulls out a chair and sits across from me, ordering a scotch on the rocks. He offers to buy me one but I politely decline.

"If you're here to punch my face in, we'll have to go outside," he says coolly, his grey eyes lingering on my face as he looks at me over the top of his glass. He downs his drink and places his empty glass on the table.

I lock my jaw and suppress the urge to tell him off, to tell him I could take him any day and that he'd regret ever saying anything. Instead, I take a sip of my water, and breath to clear my mind. As much as I hate him for all the problems he's caused in my life, I need something from him and I hate to admit it.

"I need to ask you something actually," I say and he nods vaguely, his attention taken by two girls sitting at a table adjacent to us. I roll my eyes, clearly he hasn't changed much. "Peter."

"Yeah, dude. Shoot, I'm listening," he says, bringing his eyes back to me.

"Do you remember a Cassandra... fuck, Cassandra... something with a G?" I ask, waving my hand around in the air. It's not like I really care at all what her name is, all I'm here to do is fill in some blank spots.

Peter has called over the waitress and ordered another drink. He tips it back, downing it again before setting the glass down next to the first one.

"You mean Cassandra Green?"

"Yeah sure," I nod, the name sounding familiar. "Do you remember her?"

Peter stares at me with wide eyes, downing another drink. I feel sick just watching him toss back his liquor so easily. I can't believe I used to be able to do that. I probably still could if I tired, but I'm not up for it.

"Remember her? Hell yeah I remember her, are you saying you don't?" He asks and I can't say I like the way he's looking at me. My leg starts to shake under the table and I run a hand through my hair, shaking my head.

"Not really, I ran into her the other day and she seemed to remember me. She was familiar but I can't place her. I know I met her at a party the year after Skylar left but..." I tell him, shaking my head to say I remember nothing else.

I don't really remember that year at all, it's a mess. It's a drunken haze filled with smoke and girls and stupid decisions and I can't seem to remember a single one. I don't want to remember, but now that I have Skylar back and I've run into a potential mistake from the past, I'm curious to know what I can't seem to picture.

"Really," Peter nods, a crooked smile on his face. He orders another scotch and puts that one back too. I can see the red glow in his cheeks and the way his gaze drags, his words now slurring together. "She's hot, I used to fuck her for shits. It was never anything more then that but I guess I still deserve what you did for fucking with Skylar when she was pissed at you. You guys actually dated and, man, was I desperate for her."

I clench my jaw and blame his running mouth on the alcohol he's jut consumed. I don't need to hear Skylar's name leaving his mouth or him talk about how she used him to get back at me whenever we caught. I don't want to think about any of that or I might just break his jaw. I clench my fists and take a deep breath, focusing on what he first said.

"What do you mean you deserved what I did? What the hell did I do that could compare what you did to me?" I ask, trying to sort it out in my head but it's a grey spot.