13 versions of a heart // n.h. au

viii. jess

I nearly knocked Jess's drink out of her hand once. We were at her father's Christmas party, listening to his new wife tell a story that contained neither a middle nor, it seemed, an end. Jess hated the woman, and there was no doubt Lorelai knew it. Jess couldn't keep still; the ice in her cup was shaking so fiercely I thought it might spill over the rim. She fidgeted like it kept her alive.

– Niall Horan, Girls I Loved, page 127

It's Saturday night and Mim is completely sober, a cup of ice water in her right hand and a blank expression on her face as she listens to one of Harry's mates talk about the football game he went to last weekend. Across the room, Cora sends her a pitying glance and a shrug.

Mim shrugs back. The bloke who's speaking to her doesn't even notice. She wonders if she could leave, as she didn't even have to come tonight. This is Harry's party, a celebration of a promotion at work, and Mim knows she could've easily made an excuse that would get her out of coming. Cora wouldn't have minded, especially because of what happened the last time she saw Harry.

Mim's forgiven Harry for inviting Niall to the pub, of course. But she hasn't told Harry so that Cora could hold it over him a bit, make him feel bad and get him to do the washing up a few more times a week. It's the least he can do, Cora figures, after he backed Mim into a corner like that.

"So what do you do?" the bloke asks Mim, realizing that she's not paying any attention to him. She looks up at him and blinks. He's nice enough looking, if a bit boring: he has the same haircut every other twenty-something bloke has, combed back and poofed up.

"I work for the Office of National Statistics," Mim says. She looks at him and imagines dating him, awkward hand holding and fumbled first kisses and going back to his flat, where she'll try to glean his life story from the items scattered haphazardly around the sitting room. The thought makes her queasy. "I work on data for the national census."

He looks confused. His name is Mike, she recalls. "The census?"

"You know, population data and the like." Mim shakes the cup in her hand, enjoying the sound of the crackling ice, and pictures the day she and Mike break up. They'll only make it three months, barely, and she'll let him down gently at a coffee shop, one far away from both of their flats so that he won't have to avoid it in the following weeks as he nurses his broken heart. "It's certainly not a dream job, but it keeps me afloat. What about you?"

Mike perks up. "Actually, I do a bit of sports journalism online, and I'm also working on..."

Mim tunes him out. There's only thing a bloke enjoys more than a blowjob is talking about his job continuously for several minutes. In about thirty seconds, he'll be so wrapped up in himself he probably won't even notice that Mim has stopped paying him any attention. She might even be able to walk away or swap places with someone with the same hair color and a similar height. And all the while he'll just keep talking.

"Mim!" It's Cora, putting her hand on Mim's shoulder. She leans down to whisper in Mim's ear. "Niall's here. Right behind me."

Sure enough, Mim looks over Cora's shoulder to the entryway to the kitchen and sees Niall walking through the arch, Harry beside him. Niall's grinning and so is Harry and even though Mim knew they'd stayed friends even after she and Niall broke up, the combination, the two of them together, the two of them happy, makes her feel upside-down. And he looks good, Niall does. The color of his shirt brings out his eyes, bright blue even from this distance. Mim can't help but stare.

Mike notices. He twists his neck around and spots Niall. "Who's that?" he asks.

"My ex," Mim says. "He's famous now."