faking it [h.s. short story]

faking it | part one

My good friend Sarah Jones introduced me to him a few years ago. Harry and I've known each other for a while now, not just him but we have a whole friend group who hangs out a lot when we're all in London.

I'm a London based digital illustrator and a visual artist, I met Sarah almost six years ago in New York. I was a student at NYU, she was a drummer in a local bar. She played with her amateur band three times a week but I used to go there on Fridays after my last class of the week. I was always fascinated by her talent, beauty and intelligence - she would crack some jokes between the gigs and she'd ask everyone how their week had been. One day, I had a few, got drunk and found myself on the stage - dancing my ass off, breathless. She'd suddenly stopped playing, dropped her drumsticks to the floor and started to dance with me. Everyone was cheering and it was truly a magical night for me. After the gig, I'd went to backstage to meet her, and we're like sisters since that day.

After graduating, I moved to London thanks to her, started working as a freelance visual artist and living a calm, tranquil life under the roof of my boho style apartment. I was about to turn twenty-four when she introduced me to her friends - Mitch, Adam, Charlie, Leslie, Jen and Harry. Soon after we started to hang out, Sarah and Mitch became a couple, and the cutest, if you ask me. Meanwhile I started to develop a crush on Charlie, never told him though. Harry wasn't around too much, he was too busy doing interviews, photoshoots and a lot of songwriting too. Him being this famous never bothered me, because he was nothing but a sweetheart to all of us, kind-hearted and thoughtful. He would buy us drinks, vinyls and vegan cakes; he'd arrange two-day trips to Ireland and would text each one of us after every night out to check if we've arrived our homes safely. He'd dated this gorgeous French model Camille for a while and stopped showing up to our meetings during that time. I was a bit annoyed, I'll admit. But they eventually broke up and Harry flew to Japan to write an entire album about her. Jen and Leslie are roommates and they both work at Columbia Records UK. They live in the same neighborhood as Charlie - so while Mitch, Adam, Sarah and Harry were touring we'd often hang out at Charlie's. I love Leslie and I was always in good terms with Charlie, but I think something was always off between me and Jen. It's not like we're fighting and bickering all the time, but I can tell that our relationship is... fake. I wonder if she feels this way too. But I mean, it's a bit unrealistic to think that you could get on well with everyone in an eight-people friend group, right?

So, fast-forward to tonight, we are celebrating Harry's new album breaking chart records at his enormous London house with at least twenty people. Fine Line has been described as 'the best album of 2020 so far' by a bunch of critics already, and everyone's loving the singles. There is a popular TikTok dance with Watermelon Sugar, fans are streaming the album nonstop since the day it was released, and Harry is happy. He is truly, utterly happy.

"You were stressing about this album too much." says Adam, grabbing his champagne glass. "It turned out alright, see? You're great, man. Everyone loves you." He smiles. "To our Harry!"

"To Harry!" we all cheer, hitting our glasses to each other's.

Harry wipes a single drop of tear off of his face with the back of his hand, smiling. "I'd give an emotional speech but I'm afraid of bursting into tears and cry until I become unable to talk." We all laugh. I'm sitting between him and Charlie, I just wanted to be close to Charlie even if I feel like I've given up trying to get his attention a while ago. He never said 'no' to me, though. He would always flirt with me in fact, sometimes he'd tease me, touch me. He lived a carefree life in his large house, he'd inherited a lot of money and properties from his parents so he never felt a need to get a job. He would wake up in the afternoon, pour himself a glass of red wine and continue his paintings until night. I think he's an excellent painter, but he'd never sell his paintings. "I'm doing this for fun, ya know? Just a hobby.", he'd say. He's a really exceptional person, in my opinion. Personally, I can't imagine a life without working, even if I had lots of money in my bank account. Yeah, so, I think he always knew that I had feelings for him, but he never rejected me. That's why I still have a single gleam of hope deep inside my heart.