Brief Encounters

Timeline 1 (Part 20)

For my birthday, William insisted on a night out—a cozy bar with just a handful of my friends. It wasn't anything grand or flashy, just the kind of evening that felt real. Still, I'd hesitated. I wasn't in the mood for crowds or noise, but he could be incredibly persistent. And, of course, he brought Harry along. I swear, that man has a gift for turning even the simplest night into chaos.

The bar had this warm, lived-in feel—dim lights, the hum of conversations, and a playlist that was nostalgic without trying too hard. It wasn't my usual scene, but as the night went on, I realized William knew exactly what I needed.

We ended up around a billiards table, dividing into teams. Harry and I naturally teamed up—partly because he was determined to win, and partly because I knew we'd have the most fun doing it. William got paired with Idina Menzel, who had a wicked competitive streak I hadn't seen before.

When it was my turn, I leaned over to line up the shot, my fingers steady on the cue stick. I could feel William's eyes on me. He was trying to distract me—probably with that smirk of his.

"Alright, you're definitely going to choke on this one," he said, leaning against his cue stick with that playful arrogance only he could pull off.

I glanced up at him, arching an eyebrow. "Nice try, babe. Watch and learn."

Idina chimed in with a grin. "Oh, trust me, William, Jeanna's a hustler. She never misses."

I smiled at her before focusing back on the shot. With one clean move, the cue ball hit the last stripe, sending it perfectly into the pocket. Harry whooped so loudly I thought he'd spill his drink.

"Team Jeanna for the win!" he cheered, clapping William on the back so hard it nearly sent him stumbling.

William groaned dramatically. "Alright, fine. You win," he muttered, shaking his head like a man defeated.

I set my cue stick aside, walking over to him with a triumphant grin. "Told you," I teased.

Instead of firing back with one of his witty retorts, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to my temple. It was so quick and tender it made my stomach flip. Harry, of course, couldn't let the moment pass.

"Alright, alright," he called out, his tone teasing. "Let's keep it PG, you two."

"Jealous?" William shot back, slinging an arm around my shoulders.

Harry smirked. "Mate, if I wanted PDA lessons, I'd call Mum."

The night shifted when the music turned up. Suddenly, the bar wasn't so cozy anymore—it was alive with pulsing energy. William tried to retreat into the background, claiming he didn't dance, but I wasn't about to let him off that easily.

"What happened to all that confidence at the billiards table?" I teased, tugging him toward the crowd.

He finally caved, letting me lead him onto the dance floor. The music vibrated through the floorboards, and the world around us blurred into a haze of movement and sound. I spun, placing his hands on my hips, and laughed as he tried to follow my lead.

Harry, meanwhile, had commandeered the DJ's microphone, leading the entire bar in a singalong. His voice was gloriously off-key, and I couldn't stop laughing. It was chaos, pure and unfiltered, but it was exactly what I needed.

By the end of the night, I was breathless and hoarse from singing. William was at the bar, sipping whiskey, and when I caught him staring at me, I couldn't help but smile.

I walked over, slipping my arms around his waist. "Thank you," I said softly, looking up at him.

He leaned in closer, feigning deafness. "Sorry, what was that?"

I rolled my eyes, laughing. "I said thank you—for insisting on this. I needed a night like this."

He tilted my chin up gently, his eyes meeting mine with a warmth that made my heart ache. "Told you it'd be good for you," he said before leaning down to kiss me.

His lips were soft and warm, tasting faintly of whiskey, and for a moment, the rest of the world disappeared. It was just us, standing there in a crowded bar, wrapped up in each other.

When we pulled back, I rested my head against his chest, swaying lightly to the rhythm of the music.

"Think you can handle a slow dance?" I whispered, my lips brushing against his ear.

He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Oh, please. I've been carrying you on that dance floor all night."

I laughed, tightening my hold on him. It was moments like this that reminded me why I loved him—not the titles or the attention, but the way he made the world feel like it could slow down, even for just a little while.