boys don't cry. [h.s]

twenty one

June

There comes a point in the night during a party, the point where you're considerably drunk enough to feel philosophical but not so drunk you're falling over, when you start to consider whether some of your actions were unnecessary.

That was the point Isabel had reached at around 1 am, when she suddenly realised she hadn't seen Harry in hours.

After their fight, she'd gone to the bathroom and cried for a while, before cleaning herself up, heading downstairs and getting so drunk she forgot all about it. She spent most of the night with Niall, who was effortlessly hilarious with his red face and his tank top, dancing out of time with the music and trying to impress girls by telling them he'd once downed half a dozen Fosters in 15 minutes and thrown up everywhere.

But as people started to leave and Niall started to slump, Isabel got to thinking.

When she'd avoided Harry for weeks with no explanation, with no indication as to why she'd dropped him out of nowhere, Harry hadn't given up on her. True, he couldn't say that he liked her back, and true, he knew how humiliating it was for her every time he didn't, but Harry had also arranged this party for her, had put up with her family for an entire weekend, and had done nothing the last couple of weeks but try and make her happy.

And it didn't seem like enough, but maybe it was. Maybe it had to be.

She helped Zayn clean up as most people started leaving at around 2.30, following him around with a black bin bag as he threw the empty cans and plastic glasses in there.

"You shouldn't have to clean up your own party," Zayn smiled, and Isabel shook her head.

"Least I can do. Plus, from what I hear Niall is a bit of a clean freak in the morning. I don't want him to hate you."

"Oh yeah, he's not gonna be happy about this massive stain," Zayn laughed, pointing to a red spillage on the carpet. "You'll vouch for me that it's not my fault, right?"

"I've got your back," Isabel affirmed, and he smiled lopsidedly at her.

"'The Big Red Stain has nothing to do with Zayn'. That's what you have to say."

She grinned at him and then bit down on her lip. "Can I ask you a question?" she said quietly, stuffing an empty vodka bottle into the bin bag and holding his gaze.

"Sure."

"Did you - do you ever think about being with someone?"

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Well it's just - you've never seemed interested in anything other than a night-long thing?"

He swallowed, considering his answer carefully. "Maybe I just haven't found the right person."

Isabel's heart sank for Caitlin. "Yeah, maybe."

He smiled slightly. "Are you indirectly talking about Harry?"

She stared at him, uncomfortable under his knowing smile. "Should I be?"

"You're not a night-long thing for him," he said with a shrug. "Trust me. He's my best friend."

She wasn't really sure what to say, so she just blinked, an uneasy feeling building in her stomach and she shoved the bin bag at him.

"I'm gonna go see if Harry's okay," she mumbled, avoiding his gaze. Zayn bit down on his lip and grinned at her, nodding knowingly. "Will you be okay cleaning up?"

"Sure I will," he answered brightly. "I'll get Caitlin to help me."

Oh, she'd love to, Isabel thought quietly, and she wondered how Caitlin could stand to be around him like this, how strong she was to pretend he meant nothing to her, to pretend that when he bounded over to her and kissed her cheek and placed the bin bag in her hands with a smile it didn't make her palms sweat and her stomach lurch and her heart drop in her chest.