mastermind [h.s.]

chapter 5

It's Saturday morning and Harry walks out of Julia's room, shirtless. I almost spill my coffee all over the counter again.

"Morning," he says tiredly. I give a weak smile in response. He rubs his eyes and looks down, just noticing that he's shirtless. "Fuck."

I watch him walk back into Julia's room, probably looking for a t-shirt. I'm trying to calm my heart down before he comes back. I'd never seen Harry shirtless. He's never even slept over at ours. He stayed pretty late but I don't ever remember him sleeping over. To be fair, I did shut myself up in my room for all of last night to get my sculpture done, so I didn't notice any hanky panky they might have gotten around to.

It was a strange feeling. I knew Harry and Julia were in love and I knew two people in love at our age had sex. It wasn't wrong for them and it was ridiculous for me to feel anyway about that. But it was a harsh reminder of what I'd never have. On one side of the apartment I'm locked up in my room, tired and stressed; while on the other side, my best friend was living a carefree life with no worries, in the throes of passion with the man I was falling deeper in love with.

Stop thinking that, Aria!

But it was true. Becoming Harry's friend did exactly what I dreaded: made me love him even more. He was the most respectful guy I knew, he was polite and friendly, but also cheeky and funny. He was witty and quick with his responses and knew how to cheer me up better than anyone else. Though I don't think that's because of how well he knows me, I think it's just one of his character traits. I have yet to meet someone who isn't instantly charmed by Harry.

I wonder how many other girls are in love with him—

Harry walks back in, this time wearing a t-shirt. I turn my back to him to give myself another moment to calm down from earlier. He opens a cupboard next to my head to grab a mug for himself. I watch him fill our kettle with water while I decide whether or not I should show him my project. "I didn't see you at all yesterday. I was going to ask you if you wanted to sit us, but Julia told me not to bother you."

Thank god.

"Good thing, I was quite busy."

"What were you working on?" he leans his back against the counter in the position I often take.

"My sculpture, its all I have left." All my classes were done, and all my assignments except this one were submitted. I had one exam for my history class to write later this week. But my priority was the sculpture due tomorrow.

"And how is that going? Have you finished it? Can I see it?" he starts asking eagerly.

"I'm actually having a crisis," I admit. His eyebrows pinch.

"Oh no, what's wrong?"

"I'm stumped. I have artist's block. I don't want to do it anymore," I confess. I sigh heavily then motion for him to follow me to my room. I'm aware this is the second time he's in it, and since this time I'm not screaming and throwing things, he takes a moment to study everything. His eyes flitter around the photographs I have taped on one wall, the fairy lights draped across my bed, my packed bookshelf and my mess of a desk.

In the centre sits my deer head. The head was made out of malleable clay, the branches from a couple weeks ago neatly stuck on top of the head. I stuck beads in where it's eyes would be, and that was it. I tried to add countless things to spice it up but I just finished sculpting the head last night and I was too drained to continue working.

"Aria this is impressive... this is what you were doing last night?" he says in awe. Glee rushes through my body every time he compliments my work.