The Wingman // t.h.

Part Ten - the One on the Balcony

When Harrison came back to the hotel he found the suite to be empty. At first, he thought that Tom might still be in the shower. He always spends a long time in the bathroom anyway. But he listened for a second. The whole apartment was quiet. No water running, no off-key singing. Nothing.

"Tom?" he said out loud. A bit hesitant. There came no response. Maybe he was already asleep. He was about to walk to the big bedroom when his brain thought of something else. He quickly spun around and looked at the door. His idea had not exactly caught up to him yet as he wasn't sure what he was looking for. Then, he realized something. Neither Tom's jacket or shoes were there. He left.

"Shit." Harrison groaned. There was no doubt in him about where he could have gone. After all, Harrison had not exactly made an effort in hiding what he was planning on doing earlier. Especially when he saw that his own backpack was still standing next to the door. Stupid.

Not sure what to do now, he just slouched down on the couch and turned the tv on. He tried to concentrate on whatever show he was seeing in front of him, but his heart and mind raced, thinking about what was happening just a few blocks away. What were they talking about? Were they doing more than that?

But why would he care? They were just friends. It was his own brilliant idea. God, why did he have to suggest to be "just friends"?

Just friends.

It couldn't get worse than that. He literally friend zoned himself. It was so stupid. He didn't want to be friends... unless friends could kiss each other? Unless he could grab her by the waist and not let go. If he could pin her down on his bed and mark every inch of her with his lips and still be just friends...then yeah, sure. He could be just friends.

Harrison tried to make himself more comfortable on the couch, but whatever, he did, he felt horrible. Something in him was sending this feeling through his body, his clothes felt tight against his skin...

"Oh for fuck's sake." With a groan, he got up from the couch and sulked to the bathroom to take a cold shower.

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"Can I come in?" His heart was beating in his throat. The silence feeling like it was going on for an eternity. He was scared to look her in the eyes but it wasn't like he could actually look away. She was beautiful and as always, mesmeric.

She bit her lip and looked at him for a good few seconds. Clearly debating on whether or not she should let him in. He understood. They were practically strangers. Strangers with a still very complicated history. Could you actually call a week "history"?

A week. It had only been a week. The longest week of his life. In a week he had fallen in love with a girl he didn't know. He knew it was wrong. He had told himself this since the very first day. The other thing he kept telling himself, though, was that he needed to see her again. He needed a chance to get to know her. To hopefully make her fall in love with him if it wasn't too late. He hoped his best friend had not stolen her from him already. That once again she slipped away through his fingers and this time for good. He hoped that she would give him the chance.

"Sure. Come on in." She stepped aside to let him in. He gave her a weak smile and took the step forward. For some reason, the lights in her hotel room were off. Only the blue glow of the tv in the living room area was shining.

"I was actually about to call you, like right now." she laughed nervously, brushing her hair behind her ear. The words made Tom blush like a schoolboy. At that moment he was really glad for the darkness of the room.

"Really?" He wanted to kick himself at how childish he sounded. Fortunately, she didn't mind. Still, in the dark, he saw her nod her head lightly. She lead him to the lounge part of the room. He couldn't lie, Tom was surprised at how big her hotel room was. With all the different doors he saw, he could assume there were probably at least two bedrooms, a bathroom, maybe even two, and a wardrobe. When he looked back at her, she was staring right at him.