Aquarelle [h.s]

twenty-five

I sat there, shocked, for some seconds, looking at Harry as he quickly walked in front of my car to get to the driver's side of his, completely ignoring Zayn as he tried to tell him something.

He unlocked the car and opened the door, getting in and waiting for his friend to do the same. As soon as he did, he turned on the engine and drove away, leaving me to sit there, alone, in my own car.

I didn't make a move for a while longer, trying to come to terms with what had happened and telling myself that it truly wasn't such a big deal over and over again, but with close to no success. The worst part was, even though I could convince myself that it hadn't meant anything in particular to Harry, it had definitely meant something to me, something that I wasn't ready to deal with just yet.

Should I have talked to Harry to make sure once and for all that all I was doing was overreacting, or should I have acted like it had never happened? Judging by the way Harry had acted right after it, the second option was definitely the best way to go. I didn't want him to think I'd read too much into it - even though I definitely had - too. I didn't want him to feel like I was analysing every single one of his actions - even though, even if I wasn't doing it, that one had surely caught my attention and certainly wouldn't have got out of my mind for a long while.

I shook my head, deciding that it was definitely way too late and I was definitely way too biased by the dinner we'd just had to think about it rationally, and I started the car, driving away as fast as I could, as if putting distance between me and my studio would've been of any help.

For the whole car ride, I tried my very best to think about everything but what had just happened, not wanting to risk Nicholas understanding that something was on my mind as soon as I would've come home.

What would I have even told him, if he'd asked? Should I have even mentioned it? I was sure that Harry hadn't meant it in a way that wasn't simply friendly, and that the fault was on me for overthinking it.

Why was I even overthinking it? Harry and I were friends, that was it. I'd been the one to establish that new boundary too, since at the start Harry had accepted my initial request of the relationship between us being strictly professional. I'd made it shift to a friendly one over the past few weeks, and he'd adapted to it, so what even was my issue?

I arrived at home and parked my car, staring ahead as I tried to convince myself to get out and go up. I didn't know why I was worrying so much, after all, I hadn't done anything wrong. I'd just had dinner with a couple of friends, while Nicholas had decided to stay at home. It wasn't that odd of a thing to do.

I took a deep breath and finally got out of the car, locking it before approaching the entrance of the building while looking for my keys. I found them and I opened the door, closing it gently as it was a bit late and going upstairs.

I opened my front door, and I realised that something was wrong in the second I walked inside the apartment.

Nicholas was sitting on the couch, the white light of the computer on his lap illuminating his face brightly. He didn't immediately acknowledge me when I entered, preferring to keep focusing on whatever he was doing instead and making me understand that he wasn't happy.

I sent him a slightly worried glance, wondering what the issue could've been, and I took off my coat and put it on the hanger next to the door, all too aware of his tempestuous presence in the room.

"What did you have for dinner?" I asked quietly, sending a quick glance in the direction of the kitchen in hopes of finding out the condition it was in, biting my lower lip nervously when I discovered the door was closed. "The pizza was pretty good, you should've come" I added when he didn't say a word, frowning a bit. Why was he being so difficult?