I. L'instant [H.S]

II

The day I met him we were at a party.

He was incredibly rude and to be quite honest I thought of him as one of those wankers you cross paths with from time to time, the kind who just likes to criticise people for the sake of it because they don't have anything actually interesting or smart to say other than calling people out and pointing our their faults.

I was wrong. By the time the party was well done over, the few people gathered inside that big fancy house was either singing along to the horrible music, swinging around completely drunk to care or simply smoking. I was one of the those doing exactly the later.

"Do you have a lighter I can borrow?" he asked with a low, gravely tone, dragging each word.

I thought he was drunk but when I turned to look at him I noticed he was anything but. "Sure."

He took the bright orange disposable lighter from my hand, lighting up his cigarette and leaning forward over the terrace, just like I was. At first I didn't know what to say to him, I'd heard his name and listened to him talk about a band that was coming to the city later that month but overall most people said he was a known arse and that he rarely went out to parties like this, at a massive residence with lots of posh accents going 'round.

"You know Sienna?" he said after a while.

"No, I just got inside to see what the fuzz was about." I sang with clear sarcasm.

He chuckled, not moving an inch to look at me whatsoever. "Funny."

"Harry, right?" facing him, I leaned on my elbow to give him a good look.

Dressed in black skinny jeans, white tee and an undone button-up the colour of burnt caramel, he looked surprisingly good, considering he got a permanent frown and a bit of a smirk going on at all times. His hair was long, well past his shoulders, messy waves of chestnut hair falling mindlessly while his tattooed arms caught most of my attention.

"Erica?" he asked back.

I shook my head. "Ah, close!" I whispered. "Emilia."

He leaned forward, pecking my cheek casually and surprising me at the same time. "Nice to meet you, Lia."

That night he gave me a ride home and ever since then we were inseparable. His wits, deep sarcasm and tendency to make a big deal out of nothing were the things that drew me into him without any warning. He had a world of his own inside that stubborn head, a mouthful for everyone who tried to cross him and a shit-ton of drastic actions to those brave enough to tell him straightforwardly how big of a twat he was.

Because Harry was indeed rude, mocking and borderline cynical. But he was also very troubled and sweet at the same time, he had his own mates, truly close friends who he loved to spend his time with, people with whom he allowed himself to be less hard and more authentic. One of those people was me, I discovered, after his best mate told me so.

I won't lie, it hurt when he ghosted the shit out of me.

When he didn't reply on my third call and sixteenth message, I knew something was up. After a while I learnt that he'd left to Italy and then to the States. I never got to know what had happened but I also never asked, not even to Matt who tried to talk to me after Harry was gone. I decided that whatever reason he'd got, it wasn't for me to know and that, if he was willing to end our friendship like that, so was I.

It's been more than two years since he left but now he's texting me on a Saturday morning like nothing's happened.

"What is it, darling?" my mum asks as she drives through the city's traffic.