Capture

Take the Win

Sleep had abandoned me. I was lucky to have gotten an hour, maybe two. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw their faces, felt their mouths on mine. Harry's soft, slow kiss. Liam's fierce, all-consuming one. Back and forth, like my dreams had turned into some sick slideshow I couldn't shut off.

I got up before sunrise. I needed out of my apartment, away from the silence and the ghosts of their lips.

The walk to the coffee shop was brisk. I barely tasted the drink in my hand, everything felt muted, my senses dulled by a fog of overthinking. My brain was a carousel of "what ifs" and "what the hells."

By the time I got to the office, I already needed another coffee.

"Emma, hey! Feeling better?"

"Glad you survived."

Each greeting was innocent, friendly. But each one made me flinch—like they somehow knew. Like they could see Liam's hand on my waist. Harry's smile after he kissed me.

I smiled and I lied. "Much better, thanks."

I tried to throw myself into work, but every file I opened turned into a distraction. "Client preferences" became "Harry likes tea, not coffee." "Style references" turned into "Liam's hand on my neck when he kissed me." Every bullet point was a memory I couldn't outrun.

Perrie stopped in briefly to talk about wardrobe for the next shoot. I nodded along, pretended to listen, gave her half-decent answers.

"You sure you're okay?" she asked at one point.

"I'm fine," I said. "Just tired." A half-truth, and the only kind I seemed capable of giving today.

Lunch rolled around too quickly. My stomach twisted the moment I stepped into the breakroom. Niall and Gwen were already at the table, mid-conversation, and I slid in beside them, forcing a smile.

Then the door opened—and there they were. Liam and Zayn. They walked in like they owned the room, like they always did. Confident, casual, too cool for the rest of us. I stiffened before I could help it. They both glanced at me—nothing overt, just a flicker of recognition that made my pulse spike.

They knew. Of course they knew, they walked in on my kiss with Harry. Zayn gave me a nod, unreadable. Liam... didn't look at me at all. Not at first.

He sat down across from me, closer than necessary, and reached for a bottle of water. Still didn't look at me. Until he did. His eyes caught mine for a second—just a second—and I knew it.

He wasn't going to say it. Wasn't going to drop the bomb, expose me, tease me for skipping work to kiss our neighbor down the hall. I braced for it anyway, but it never came.

Instead, Liam leaned back, tone light, "So... miraculous recovery, huh?"

I lifted my chin. "Some of us bounce back quickly."

"Hmm." He gave me a small smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Yeah, well. Looked like you had a solid support system." There it was. The dig.

My stomach tightened. "Friendly neighbors are hard to come by." I plastered on a fake smile doing my best to keep my voice even, hoping that no one was actually listening to us, but I sensed Niall was as he raised an eyebrow, chewing his sandwich, not quite watching us but definitely paying attention. 

Liam just sipped his water. "Did he kiss it all better?" He whispered softly. I felt my jaw tense as I looked at him with distain, he looked back at me holding my gaze and that's when I noticed it. He wasn't smirking his usual shit eating grin, no he, he actually looked jealous. 

I laughed, but it was humorless. "Are you jealous?" I whispered smug satisfaction on my face as Liam looked like he wanted to murder me. Oh yes, he was definitely jealous. 

He leaned forward slightly, voice even quieter now. "Why would I be jealous, when you're clearly just giving it away."

I held his gaze. His jaw twitched. Just barely.

"Fuck you." I murmured.

He didn't answer. Didn't need to.

Gwen's voice cut in across the table, chirping about a new project, breaking the moment like snapping a thread. Around us, the room kept moving, unaware that something had just cracked quietly between us. I felt it. That invisible current, humming beneath the surface. Still there. Still charged.

And I couldn't help it—beneath the sting of his words, beneath the leftover ache of both kisses, I felt something else too.

Satisfaction.

Liam was rattled. Maybe he didn't say it, he probably wouldn't ever say it, but I'd seen it—in the flick of his eyes, the way his voice tightened, the jealousy laced in every careful, cutting word. It wasn't nothing. He cared that I kissed Harry, even if he buried it beneath that arrogant, untouchable mask of his.

He could hide behind his smirks and silence all he wanted—but I'd seen behind the curtain, if only for a second. It felt good to know that Liam Payne, resident heartbreaker, didn't like the idea of me kissing someone else. 

Especially when that someone else might just be better for me in every way. That felt like a win.