Life's Never Simple • SIDEMEN

• SEVEN •

Saturday, 1st December

• Callum •

"Callum, I promise, this place is meant to be amazing," Mum insists. "Tell him Megan."

"Mum's right Cal. I've been told the same," Megan says, sticking her elbow gently into my ribs as we walk towards the doors of the smallish pizzeria, situated on the corner of a quiet street that I haven't ever been down before. It looks okay, I guess, but nothing spectacular. The huge windows along the front are steamed up slightly, probably from the contrast between its warm interior, and the cold December evening.

"Fine. Get off, Meg," I huff, gently pushing Megan away from me.

"Stop being so grumpy, this is meant to be a nice night out," Mum scolds.

"I'm sorry. Just worried about my mock results," I sigh, and she pats my arm sympathetically.

"You've got time to get your grades up. Take your mind off it for a bit," she says, and I force myself to relax a little.

"Alright Mum," I smile, opening the heavy door and holding it for them both. "Ladies," I say, in a joking accent, making both of them laugh. I then follow them inside, instantly hit by warmth and the smell of flour.

I have to admit, it is really homely here. There's a small bar almost directly in front of us when we walk inside, tucked into the back right corner, and a huge red-brick pizza oven in the middle of the back wall. A collection of mismatched tables and chairs are scattered around the room, and there's a slanted bookcase that covers the entirety of the far left hand wall. There are quite a lot of people here, meaning that there's a dull hum of chatter in the background. It's pleasant really.

I look over to the bar, and see someone familiar standing behind the shorter section of it. I'm not sure why, until I take a closer look, and it clicks in my brain.

Harry is stood behind the bar. Cleaning a pint glass on a white cloth.

My first thought is, what the hell is he doing here. My second is, how incredible he looks.

He's wearing all black, but manages to make something so plain look beautiful. A flour covered apron is tied tightly around his middle, giving the illusion that his waist is more cinched than usual, and showcasing a beautiful figure, a subtle, but barely there hourglass. His shoulders look a little wider than usual too because of it, and it's hot.

Even from this distance, I can see his blue eyes shining as he looks down, and his long, almost feminine eyelashes casting a shadow on his cheeks. The lighting is also doing wonders for his jawline, which he always insists is nonexistent. Certainly not the case now. If only he could see himself. His hair is slightly messier than usual, appearing a soft golden colour in the dim, orange lighting. Making it look like he's been gifted a halo to wear. Fitting.

Focused on cleaning that glass, and he still looks like a fucking angel.

If I'm honest with myself, I've liked him as more than friends for a while. Almost since I met him. I mean, it's hard not to. He's just amazing. But I haven't told anyone about it. Mainly because nobody here knows I'm gay. And I'd like to keep it that way at the moment. But also because I know nothing's ever going to come of this childish crush. He's got a girlfriend. I have to just accept that even if we've got closer recently, I'm never going to mean that much to him.