Red Brick Heart

4

It's half past five on a Wednesday afternoon and Harry's in the campus pub with Zayn and Perrie, trying not to feel like a third wheel to something he's not sure he understands completely. They're sitting opposite him in the booth: Perrie's got her headphones in and Zayn is reading Breakfast at Tiffany's, but he can't see their hands and he's fairly sure something's going on under the table. Never mind.

He redoubles his efforts to focus on his textbook, but the words keep mushing up and blurring into one and it might have something to do with the two pints he's had in the last hour, but he really doesn't feel up to work.

He presses the home button on his phone, ignores his notifications and just focuses on the time. Louis and Niall had a football match this afternoon against Keele; Leigh-Anne has netball; Jade and Jesy have got cheerleading with the rugby club, and Liam's gone to the outdoor activities centre with the mountaineering club. So it's just the three of them – well, plus Mystery Dave, but apart from an almost-sighting on Monday the only way they can tell he even exists is by the steady flux of milk and chips from his shelf in the fridge-freezer.

"I'm bored," Harry says, letting his face fall into the open book.

"I don't think you've turned a page in the last half an hour, mate," Zayn says. Harry stares at the word contractual law, far too close to his face, and sighs heavily.

"Yeah. I'm bored."

"Don't worry. Louis'll be back soon," Perrie says soothingly. When he lifts his head to look at her, she's grinning and chewing gum noisily.

"I don't know what you're trying to say." Harry flicks a sodden beer mat at her, making her squeal.

"You know, Louis, your bestest friend in the whole world? You can't be apart for more than a few hours or else you get all tetchy and snappy. It's so cute," she simpers.

"Fwends, best fwends," Zayn simpers, in his Inbetweeners voice. Harry wants to hit them both, wants to say how about telling us all about how two of our flatmates are clearly boning under all our noses, but keeps quiet.

Fortunately then they're interrupted by a small gaggle of people arriving at their table: they look like third years, and Harry's worried that they're about to muscle the three of them out of their booth when a tall guy with a quiff Harry vaguely recognises steps forwards and says, "Harry, isn't it?"

"Um," Harry says, ever eloquent. Nick, the helpful part of his brain supplies. Media society president. Your Facebook friend. "Nick, right?"

"Yeah, that's me. I didn't see you at the meeting on Thursday."

Harry shakes the offered hand, stumbles over an excuse – he'd ended up staying in the kitchen all night with Louis, Niall and Jesy baking cupcakes for the cake decorating society social the next day – and finally says, "No, um, something else came up."

"Ah, that's a shame," Nick says, giving him a pointy-toothed smile. "Would have loved to have a few more turn up this year. We're seriously low on new blood."

"Um." Harry clears his throat, looks to Zayn and Perrie for support – they're both smiling at him but keep silent, the bastards – and finally says, much to his regret, "I'll, um, I'll make sure I'm there for the next meeting. When is it?"

"We've got an informal drinks and takeaway thing next Friday about this year's line up," Nick says, reaching for his phone. "At my house. I'll text you the address if you give me your number."

Harry recites his number, thinking faintly that one the one hand, surely the president of a university society has better things to be doing with his time than chasing up random freshers who don't turn up to society events; on the other hand, it would be cool to be involved in a society that doesn't require several hours of baking in preparation for meetings.