boys don't cry. [h.s]

eighteen

May

Isabel had always been a proactive, determined kind of girl who went for the things she wanted and was persistent enough to keep at it until she got it. So it was kind of problematic that the thing she wanted was the thing that she was trying to stop herself from getting.

Because what she wanted was what someone else wanted, too, maybe just as much. And although it was killing her, Isabel thought that being with Harry would hurt Caitlin even worse.

It had all started after work the evening following Matt's party, when he'd asked her to come over and stay the night but she'd refused.

"I don't have any of my stuff," she'd said.

"So? You can just borrow a toothbrush and I'll drop you home early tomorrow." He looked at her and smiled. "It's not like you need clothes to wear in bed."

"I don't have my pills," Isabel tried, knowing how much it frightened boys when there was any mention of birth control, wanting to wipe the stupid smirk off his face.

Harry was completely unfazed. "You always keep them in your purse."

"I've got an essay due tomorrow morning and I need to finish it," she said desperately, clutching at straws.

Harry frowned now, clutching the steering wheel tighter. "But you told me yesterday you already finished it earlier this week."

"It was another one," she mumbled, and he sighed, not believing her at all.

"You're ridiculous, and an awful liar, Isabel. You might as well not even try because it never works."

"I've got a...feminine situation," she admitted. This was, finally, a version of the truth, and she expected Harry to give up at the mention of her period, but he didn't.

He looked over at her, frowning so deeply, the black rings under his eyes seeming even darker when he did so, like all the tired, sad parts of his face were standing out because of her. "We're not just about sex, Isabel. This isn't what this is to me."

Isabel blinked at him for a moment, taken aback. "What is it then?" When he didn't reply she swallowed, pausing before repeating: "What is it then, Harry?"

"We've had sex three times, Is. And we spent every fucking day together for two weeks," he muttered, and she didn't know what to say because it was true. They'd done things, like going to town together after work and watched films and made actual plans together, and even though the implication was always that it was because they were friends, it still meant something to her - and him, apparently.

"It's not - I'm not..." he trailed off, glancing at her again. "I'm not Louis, Isabel."

Her heart plummeted. She looked down at her lap, wanting to say something but her throat felt tight and she couldn't get any words out.

"Please come," he said eventually. "I don't care that we can't have sex, I was only joking before."

"Won't it look weird to Niall and Zayn that I'm staying over?" she choked out, suddenly terrified at how persistent he was being because the last thing she wanted to do was tell him about Caitlin, knowing it would kill her if Harry found out.

Harry sighed loudly. "I don't give a fuck about that," he said. "I know you're scared of telling them but I don't think we should keep it a secret, Is."

"Harry -"

"It's fine," Harry said before she could say anything else, knowing from her tone that she wasn't going to give in. "I'll take you home."