** MAJOR EDITING**
Niall realises he likes Harry, his best friend. But Harry's already drowning deep in a toxic relationship with Liam, his companion.
A story of love, lust, friendship, and abandonment between five friends during their last year of...
tHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU -- for five hundred reads (well four hundred and ninety nine). I'm, however, appalled that anyone continues to read this, but I still update for committed audience like everyone that continues to vote, comment, share, and follow me. So thanks a bunch!
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chapter twenty. the sky under the sea.
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AND I FEEL LIKE combustion. Sweating because of the heat and ready to burst into more fatal flames while looking at the time then to my closet. Glancing at the clock nearest to me, and it's hell. It's hell because I'm apprehensive and nervous and confused and my body is swarming with butterflies and also tightening with deadly knots: because it's my and Harry's official first date.
I'm going on a date with my longterm best friend. Disregarding the one time we've, simultaneously, crossed the platonic line of an amiable friendship. A time when we were both young and dumb --although we're still not the brightest -- and inexperienced with reality around us. All the same there's more room to grow. There's always more room for development no matter the age and level of maturity sinking in through the pores on your face and arms. Legs and bones.
But sweat is sinking through all of mine, deep and irritable on every inch of my skin. Probably a centimetre or metre or .. or whatever. I'm sweating while standing in my Calvin Klein ('#mycalvins') boxer briefs just staring at the amount of clothes hanging on liners before me. And I'm more than anxious from just thinking about --well overthinking-- the many outfits I can pull together before Harry arrives for the unknown opacity of our date.
A date I know nothing about. Not one thing. Which is rare since I'm besotted with positive surprises and thoughtful gestures and bright, bright smiles. So bright they shine more than the two prominent stars during the day and during the night. But this thoughtful, positive date Harry has planned makes apprehension and pessimism an all time high for me. Just because I'm not sure if the dress code is casual or fancy.
Maybe, both.
The small quiff in my hair — that capacitated an entire bottle of hairspray and hair gel that can suffocate my school quicker than one minute – says otherwise. The cliche hair quiff says, screams: casual, careless, fancy, thoughtful all in a unison. So that's great news.. to only me.
But clothes, clothes, clothes. My index taps against the faint dent on my chin thoughtfully. Because, I actually am thinking. I actually desire to be presentable — a real eye-catcher in Harry's peripheral.
Just to feel the hot light and see the green ambers stare at me, and only me. Not a brief glance or a quick observation but an entire thorough eye up from those bright eyes would have my stomach more upset than it is at the moment. A moment of struggling and suffocation for more than another ten minutes when I decide on an outfit. For the sake of Harry's arrival. It's never good to present yourself with the irritating characteristic of tardiness; it's unappealing.
