Lights (2013)

7

I drag myself into work the next morning with the biggest headache of my life.

"Never again," I mutter, plopping down into my seat at the register next to Liam. He shoots me a confused look.

"I went to a party last night," I say, as if that explains everything, which, in my mind, does.

Liam nods slowly. "With that guy that was outside waiting for you the other day?" He's talking about Harry.

"He was there," I nod, rubbing my temples. "I have the worst headache and I've already downed four aspirins. When does it end?"

"You probably could've called in sick," Liam points out. "Shawn's hungover most of the time; I'm sure he'd understand." Liam cracks a smile at me.

I laugh. "No, I'm fine," I say. It's not until I'm working the register on my own, lost in my thoughts that I realize what a lie that is. I'm really not fine. I'm hungover, for one, but I'm really caught up in a storm of emotions--anger and hurt, mostly. I'm mad at Harry for most everything he said yesterday--at the party, and when he climbed into my room. Nothing Harry has ever done has compared to this; he's always been sensitive about my mother. Which means I must have really pissed him off by running from him at the party and drinking too much of whatever it was Luke gave me in the kitchen. I shudder at the blurred memories.

I absently ring up customer after customer at the register, trying to ignore the raging headache pounding at the back of my skull.

"Excuse me, where do you keep the best-sellers?" A voice asks.

"Front left of the store," I say involuntarily, not bothering to look up.

"Thanks, Blair."

"No problem, Harry." Wait. Harry?

I widen my eyes as I watch his head of chocolate curls make its way to the front left of the store. Why is he here? What is he trying to prove?

I try to ignore his presence as his green eyes narrow at the selection of books. No doubt he's only here to annoy and repulse me.

I lower my gaze as he walks toward the register, a book in his hand. Harry, reading? The thought is almost laughable. Liam catches sight of Harry and sends me a confused look, which I return with a shrug. I know we're both wondering what the hell Harry is doing here.

"Just this one, please," Harry says, his expression unreadable as he pulls his wallet out of his pocket. He slides a copy of the Hunger Games onto the counter.

"Why are you here?" I blurt.

Harry stares at me a moment before answering. "I need to buy a book."

I flush, feeling sheepish. "Why here, though? There are other bookstores you could've gone to."

Harry's eyes don't leave me.

"Why would I waste my time searching for another store when I know this one?" He asks slowly.

I feel so stupid for asking him these obvious questions. I know he's really here to play with my mind, and he's succeeding. I lock my jaw as he hands me money for the book.

"Since when do you read?" I ask.

Harry shrugs. This certainly is weird behavior. Harry hasn't read anything since we were in school. He takes the book in his hand and shoots me a small smile, his expression still carefully guarded. I know I cut deep when I told him I needed space. We've been inseparable since we were kids, and even when we fought before, I would never tell him to leave me alone like that. Until now.

We stare at each other for a moment longer before he turns on his heel and walks out of the store, the Hunger Games gripped firmly in his hand. When I first read that series, I obsessed over it for months. Harry would just smirk and roll his eyes at me. Why is he suddenly interested in it? Why now?


Harry's POV


I walk into my kitchen and throw my keys and book onto the counter. I run a hand through my hair and sigh.

"You're home early."

I whip around to see Jane smirking at me. I grimace. I have got to get that key from her. "Why are you here?" I grumble.

"I never really took time to look at the decor of this place," she says, ignoring my question as she walks toward me, mismatched eyes gleaming. "You really did a lovely job."

I lock my jaw. "I thought you were mad at me," I say. "For what happened at the party."

Jane shrugs. "I know you didn't mean it," she purrs, her hand sliding up my arm. "I'm willing to forgive and forget," she says in my ear.

I know better. "You slept with Louis," I hiss.

"I sleep with a lot of people," she counters.

"Then you're a whore and I want nothing to do with you."

"You've never had any problem before."

"Jane," I say, warning in my voice.

"Dammit, Harry," she says, anger evident in her features. "What is with you nowadays? Every since your little prissy friend showed up to Luke's party--"

"Shut the fuck up, Jane!" I yell, boring my eyes into hers. "Damn, just shut up!"

She's shocked at my outburst. "What's your deal?" She hisses. "It's Blair, isn't it? She's got you under some spell--"

I ball my hands into fists. "No she doesn't."

Jane takes another step toward me. "Prove it," she breathes.

Ever since Blair told me to leave that night of the party, I've been a mess. I know I really fucked up this time by bringing up the day her mother died, and I regret every word. If I had been drinking, I could blame it on the alcohol. But, in fact, Blair was the one who was drinking; and I'll never forget the look in her ocean eyes when the words tumbled from my mouth.

She had every right to tell me to leave that night. I'm selfish for missing her this way.

But that doesn't stop her own words from hurting. She never tells me to leave like that. She always forgives me.

And today at the bookstore, she had stared at me in disbelief, her eyes guarded.

I look at Jane standing before me. Her eyes are mysterious and seductive, inviting me in. With anger burning in my veins, I lean in and kiss her, running my tongue over the stud in hers; teaching Louis, Blair, and myself a lesson.



Blair's POV



I stand in line at the convenient store, tapping my foot with impatience. I turn the small pack of gum over in my hands, waiting for my turn.

It's been a week since Harry and I stopped speaking. I hate to admit it, but my life without him is so...static. It used to be so dynamic, what with cleaning up his trashed house on Saturdays to--well, to fighting with him.

"Hey, I know you."

I look up at the cashier to see an olive-skinned boy with black hair styled into a quiff on his head. He grins at me with a blindingly white smile.

"I'm sorry?" I ask.

"You're Harry's friend, right?"

"Uh--" I'm not so sure how to answer that.

"I'm Zayn," he says. "I was playing truth or dare with you guys at Luke's. Crazy party, eh?" Now that I think about it, I do remember him. I was too drunk to ask his name, though.

"Right," I say, smiling at him. "I'm Blair."

"Cool," he says, ringing up my gum. "Tell Harry hi for me. Oh, and he owes me ten bucks."

I swallow. "Sure," I say, taking my gum and bidding Zayn goodbye.

I walk out to my car and get in, sighing. I turn on the ignition and begin my drive home.

I hum along to the radio absentmindedly, running a hand through my hair. I'm too lost in my thoughts to realize where I am when I shift my car into park.

I face palm myself when I recognize the front path leading to Harry's doorstep. And...the driveway I'm parked on.

"Shit," I mutter, scrambling to shift my car into gear. I'm just about to back out when I hear my name.

"Blair?"

I freeze. Harry stares at me from the front walk.

I take a deep breath as he walks over to my opened window.

"What are you doing here?" He asks, not entirely coldly. His voice is even and his expression blank.

"I, uh..." Drove to your house out of habit because even if I told you to leave the other night I'm still madly in love with you?

He looks at me patiently.

"I don't know," I finally say truthfully.

Harry blinks. "Alright," he says. He shifts his weight. "Did you...want to come in?"

I quickly shake my head. "No...no."

Before Harry can answer, the front door opens and Jane steps out, in Harry's t-shirt. Only Harry's t-shirt.

"Harry what--" She stops when she sees me.

I force a smile, trying to mask my shock. Does Louis know about this? I lock my jaw.

"Why are you here?" She asks. Her smooth voice is rude.

"She needed to speak with me," Harry answers coolly. "I'll be in soon."

Jane grimaces. "Fine," she snaps. She tosses her jet-black locks over her shoulder and walks back into the house, slamming the door behind her.

Harry turns back to me.

"Are you two...?" I start.

Harry shrugs. "I guess."

"But she slept with Louis," I remind him.

He shrugs again.

"You hate Louis," I go on slowly.

"Do you have a problem with me and Jane?" He asks, crossing his arms over his chest. Yes, a big problem.

"No, I--"

"Because let me just remind you that you're the one who just came over to my house for a reason you don't know." His eyes turn cold.

"You know, Harry, speaking to me this way is not a good way to get me to forgive you," I snap.

Harry raises his eyebrows. "Forgive me? You think I want you to forgive me?"

I look away, flushing. Of course he'd turn this around.

"I can assure you, Blair, I am doing fine without your forgiveness," he spits viciously.

I shift my car into gear and look back at Harry one last time. "You know, every time we fight and I think you've changed, I'm wrong. I'm so, so wrong." I back out of the driveway, speeding down the street, not bothering to look back at the person that makes my life a hellish emotional rollercoaster.