The Thrill Is Gone

The last thing Harry wanted to do was get in an argument with her. In his mind, when he’d fancied what the conversation would be like, he’d imagined her being disappointed by the fact that he’d have to miss out on some of her birthday, but understanding of the situation. He’d thought she’d understand that it was his duty as a friend to get Jake out of trouble, that she’d see that he was being a loyal friend, but he was terribly mistaken. She didn’t view him as a loyal friend. She viewed him as a bad boyfriend that didn’t care about her feelings, a boyfriend that cared more about his friends than he did her. And she didn’t feel sorry for Jake; she didn’t think it a pity that he’d been taken into custody. He’d been reckless, an absolute moron, and she wasn’t in the mood to pay the price for his stupidity. If he had fucked up, that was his business, not Harry’s.

That was what she tried to convince Harry of, as they spoke on the phone. That was the point she was desperately trying to make clear, but it didn’t matter how many times she brought up the fact that Jake and Chelsy had been reckless, that they should’ve known better, Harry was determined to see them out of trouble, and she was determined to make Harry feel bad for being such an asshole on her birthday.

And she was succeeding at that. Her words dug deep into his very being. He could picture the facial expressions that accompanied every word, the intensity in her gaze, the way she rested her hand on her hip and paced around to try to calm down. He could see her clear as day, and he wanted to make things better, he wanted to say that he’d forget all about Jake and Chelsy, and go straight to Oxford to be with her. But the problem was that her words didn’t just make him feel guilty about the situation, they made him angry towards her. Why couldn’t she understand that her friends needed his help? Why did she have to be so selfish and unreasonable? It would only be a few hours, nothing more. So why couldn’t she just deal with that? Why did she have to be so dramatic?

“You’re being bloody unreasonable!” he found himself shouting when he finally lost his temper. “It’s not like I meant for this to happen. It just sort of did and now I have to do my bit to –”

“Go ahead!” she yelled before he could finish his sentence. “Sort things out for them, get them out of trouble. All I know is that I'm done with this conversation.”

“The hell you are!” he wasn’t about to have her hand up on him, not without having settled things. “This damn conversations not over until you stop being cross with me.”

“Well that’s not happening, so bye Henry, have fun!”

And then, right after she’d uttered those final words, the line went dead.

“Fucking mental!” he cursed at his phone. “Who the hell does she think she is? Hanging up on me? I’ve not even done anything wrong and she’s acting like I’ve gone off and cancelled Doctor Who!” He fiddled with his smart phone, and called her back, determined to get her on the line. “Pick up . . . pick up . . . I’ve loads to say, you stubborn ass . . .”

Harry was ready to tell her off for having hung up on him, he’d even thought up an opening line to really get under her skin, something that would infuriate her and undoubtedly lead to his being miserable for several weeks (at the least), but he was unable to say anything further to her, because she didn’t answer his call. She let it ring a few times, enough to make him think that she’d answer, but then she pressed the ignore option, and he was directed to her voicemail.

“Hello, this is Paulina Balcázar. I am not available at the present, but if you would be so kind as to leave your name, number, and a short message, I’ll be sure to get back to you as soon as possible. Have a lovely day!”

By the time he reached the end of her voicemail message, his temper had subsided. Have a lovely day! It was remarkable what the sound of her voice could do to him. All she’d said was four words in a recording, but they’d been said with such sincerity, such warmth, that he felt like an asshole for being upset with her at the present. He felt ashamed for having thought up such a hurtful thing to say to her, and guilty for having let her down on her birthday. But he couldn’t help it. As much as he wanted to be with her, to drive over to Oxford to make things right, he couldn’t.

Jake needed him.

Without him, Jake would get processed, have formal charges pressed against his person, and disappoint his family. Chelsy would suffer a similar fate, and despite his no longer caring for her, he didn’t want to see her in jail. She didn’t deserve that. Neither of them did, even if they had acted recklessly.

Determined to sort things out as quickly as he could, he exited the broom closet in which he’d sought privacy, and hurried down the narrow corridor towards the barracks where his overnight bag awaited him. The barracks were for the most part, deserted. There were only a few other men lingering about, but they were either squeezing a nap in or studying one of the many training manuals they’d been assigned. None of them acknowledged his presence when he walked in, none of them took much notice of him as he slipped into regular clothes, and when he rushed out of the room, no one bid him farewell.

He moved at a brisk pace, eager to get outside where Alistair stood waiting for him. He’d arrived an hour earlier, but due to the unforeseen circumstances that arose, had to wait out longer than usual while Harry made the necessary phone calls. Not that he minded. He’d been doing a bit of light reading, immersed in a novel that Paulina had given him. She’d said that if he had to be waiting around, that he deserved to at least spend that time being transported somewhere else, so she rummaged through her collection of books and gifted him a few, which he had slowly, but surely been reading for the past five weeks.

“Good afternoon, Your Royal Highness.” Alistair greeted him politely, bowing as he did so. “Might I take your luggage?”

“Yes, of course, here you are.” Harry handed them off. “We won’t be going to Oxford yet, Alistair. I have to make a detour in London.”

“London?” He couldn’t help but ask. What was so important in London? Had he forgotten to pick something up for Paulina? “I’ve brought the painting you specified, Sir. It’s been wrapped most beautifully. In case that was what you were wishing to return to London for.”

“It’s not.” Harry opened the car door, and climbed inside, he waited until Alistair got in to continue speaking. “I’ve other business to see to first, something regarding Jake. Would you mind hurrying along?”

“Not at all, Sir,” assured Alistair as he placed the key in the ignition. “Only, where is it that I am to drive? Chatsworth Houser, perhaps?” he inquired.

“Not Chatsworth. Take me to . . .” there was a pause, a moment of hesitation in which he seriously contemplated forsaking Jake and Chelsy, and running off to Oxford to be with Paulina, but that moment quickly passed, and at the end of it, he was more resolved than ever to venture to London. It was his duty as a friend to get Jake out of trouble, the least he could do for all that Jake endured whenever they went out together. He’d just have to find a way to make it up to Paulina. “. . . the London police headquarters. And hurry. I’ve no time to waste.”

Alistair did his best to accommodate Harry’s wishes. He hurried along as best he could. Driving twelve kilometers over the speed limit for most of the trip, and moving about even faster whenever empty stretches of road presented themselves. And as he drove, he couldn’t help but wonder what it was that Harry had to sort out in London. It had to be something important if he was willingly denying himself time with Paulina. Alistair knew how much Harry valued the stolen hours that he was able to spend with his girlfriend. Alistair also knew that it was Paulina’s birthday, and Harry’s not being there, even if it was only for a few hours, would not go unpunished. Because if there was something that Alistair knew about women, it was that on Valentine’s Day and on their birthdays, they had to be doted upon, and all the attention had to be placed on them. To deny them of that was to condemn oneself to their contempt.

And if Harry was willing to do that, if he was willing to condemn himself to being told off and certain sexual deprivation, then it had to be a truly serious matter. Whatever Jake had done had to have been horrid enough to garner media attention if it was to be let out, but not awful enough to have been unsalvageable by the appropriate connections. From that, Alistair was able to deduce that Jake had not been involved in a murder or theft. But what had he done? What did he need Harry’s help with? The only thing he could think of was that he’d been off his face on drugs or alcohol. Those were, after all, substances the young man was very fond of. There was never a party in which Alistair did not catch a glimpse of Jake doing a line. It was a toxic habit, one that he’d actively stopped Harry from picking up, and the more he thought of it, the more certain he grew that cocaine had something to do with their driving over to the City of London Police Headquarters.

When he came to the conclusion that drugs had been involved, Alistair wanted nothing more than to disregard Harry’s orders, and instead of taking him to London, to take him to Oxford where he belonged. There was, after all, no point in his getting Jake out of trouble. It was best for the young man to be processed, for him to be forced to clean up his act. He’d been getting away with using that poison for well over two years, and what had once been a rare indulgence, had become an addiction, even if Jake would never admit to that. He needed to get himself sorted out, and that would only happen if he was forced into it. And that wouldn’t happen if Harry got him out of trouble. If Harry were to make things right for him, then Jake would only continue to indulge himself.

It was best for Jake to be processed, but despite believing that wholeheartedly, Alistair didn’t dare disregard Harry’s orders. He abided by them. Drove him into the police parking structure, and then escorted him to the various offices that had to be visited throughout a four hour period. It turned out that even Harry couldn’t simply stroll into the headquarters and have his friends released from custody. He had to take meetings with various high ranking officials, and was even forced to wait for well over an hour while the Commissioner was engaged in another meeting, though Harry suspected that they’d forced him to wait simply as a power play, to demonstrate that they were in control of what would happen.

On any other occasion, Harry would’ve reminded them that royalty was not to be kept waiting, but on that day he knew he had to play by their rules. If they wanted him to wait, he’d wait, even if he kept glancing at his watch every few minutes. He had hoped to be in Oxford by six that evening, to be able to hopefully catch Paulina before she set out to do any of her plans, but six came and went, and instead of being in Oxford with her, he remained at police headquarters, seated across the Commissioner.

Their meeting lasted for the greater part of an hour. They discussed the specifics of the situation, exactly what had happened in the restroom and what charges might be pressed upon them if they were to be formally processed and charged. It was difficult to listen to what could potentially happen to Jake and Chelsy if he were unable to get off the hook. There would be jail time, a probation period, and their reputations would be ruined. Harry couldn’t let that happen, so he used his knowledge of the Commissioner to his advantage.

Harry knew the Commissioner was a man whom liked to move in society, but whose lack of fortune and family title, kept him from the most exclusive circles. So Harry casually mentioned that a garden party would be held in Buckingham Palace in May, and that he was in the process of organizing a polo charity match for Sentebale, an event that his father would be in attendance of.

It was with invitations to those two events that Harry managed to bribe the Commissioner into letting his friends go. He would have to either beg his grandmother to ask for the Commissioner to be invited, or sneak into the Lord Chamberlain’s office and add the name to the list, but either way, he was going to get the Commissioner into the garden party.

With everything sorted out, Harry was personally escorted by the Assistant Commissioner to the private holding cell where Jake and Chelsy had been kept. The cell was a distance away from the ones where the majority of people were held in custody, it was designed for high profile individuals that couldn’t be mixed in with the general public, they were held there to protect their privacy.

“Do ya think he’s forgotten?” asked Chelsy as they waited in the holding cell. “It’s been ages and no ones come to fetch us. No ones even told us anything other than to give us that garbage they tried to feed us! I don’t think he’s come to sort things out. I think he’s left us here.”

“Don’t be daft, Chels.” Jake glared at her. “He wouldn’t leave us here. Not after swearing he’d come fetch us.”

“But what if he has?” She was beginning to lose hope. She wasn’t exactly sure as to how long they’d been there, but if they’d given them dinner it had to have been at least four or five hours. “Ya said yourself that it was that . . . that bird’s birthday. What if he’s left us to run off with her?”

“He wouldn’t run off with that cow while we’re stuck in this bloody place!” he cried, insulted that Chelsy would even think that Harry would choose Paulina over them. “There’s no fucking way he’d leave us here! If I know him, which I do, better than anyone, I’d wager, even you. Then he’s here, dealing with those arseholes to get us out. I don’t even see why they’re being so dramatic about this. It was just a bit of coke! That’s it! Just some coke! It wasn’t like we were hurting anyone and we would’ve been fine once lunch was over with. It was just a bloody bump, but no, they’ve got to make a scandal out of every fucking thing.”

Chelsy folded her arms across her chest, and leant back, until the back of her head touched the off white walls. “I just hope he gets us out by tonight. I’ve a flight I'm meant to catch.”

“A flight?” she hadn’t mentioned anything about taking a flight. “Where’s your arse off to?” asked Jake, curiously.

“Malia,” she told him. “I'm meant to go on holiday with Nick. You remember him, don’t you?”

“Is he the investment banker?”

She nodded. “That’s the one.”

“Why you going on holiday with him, though?” He stopped pacing. “I thought ya still fancied Harry. That’s what you told me.”

“That was months ago.” Six months to be precise. “I don’t fancy him anymore, not like that.”

“But you two –”

“There’s nothing there anymore, Jake.” She meant that, for the most part. There truly wasn’t anything between them anymore. He’d moved on with his life, and despite her being certain that she’d always hold some affection towards him; she’d decided to move on with hers. “Harry’s moved on with his life. He seems absolutely smitten with that American. More than he ever did with me or anyone else. In fact, I’d wager my inheritance that she’ll be the one to see him through the end.”

“How can you say that? How can you be such a defeatist? You moved to Leeds to study law in order to be with him! What about that?”

“I know I did!” she snapped. “But sometimes . . . sometimes things don’t work out, no matter how much we want them to. And honestly, Jake, you need to stop being so bloody dramatic. You’re acting like you’re the one that’s been replaced. Or were you living vicariously through me? Is that it? Do you fancy Harry, then?” she teased.

“Bugger off . . .” he muttered.

“Don’t even try to guilt trip me, you prat. If anyone should be making anyone feel guilty, it should be me! I rarely do coke, once or twice a year. And I always do it in private, but no, you kept saying it’d be a laugh and I was twit that listened. So don’t you dare try to guilt me just because I'm not keen on starting up drama when I know it’s pointless! Harry doesn’t fancy me anymore. It’s simple as that. He’s besotted with that American.”

“I can’t believe you’re fine with her.”

“Well, if it wasn’t her, it would’ve been someone else.” She stated very matter-of-factly. “I’ve never wanted his sort of life. You know that better than anyone. There’s no freedom to it. Everything’s scheduled out, you’ve always got to be acting a lady, and I can’t fucking live that way. So good on her if she can get through it.”

“She doesn’t deserve him though.” He started pacing again. “If you only just met her, you’d agree.”

“Doesn’t matter though,” she said, sitting up. “I'm not the one dating her. And neither are you. She’s Harry’s business, and if you don’t come to terms with that, then you might see yourself out of favor, because we all know how Harry gets.”

“I'm not daft. You know. I don’t let on that I'm not keen on her. Not when he’s around, at least.”

“Well how do you know she hasn’t told him?”

“Because he hasn’t had a go at me,” Jake knew better than anyone that Harry would have a massive fit if he caught word of how Jake truly was towards Paulina. “No matter though. She’ll be gone soon enough.”

“Will she?”

“She’s a Rhodes Scholar. Her times almost up here and then the distance will sort those two out.”

Chelsy thought that highly unlikely. The distance would surely strain the relationship, but she had a feeling it would last. Never before had she seen Harry so . . . alive. She’d always thought he’d never look at anyone the way he used to look at her, that she would be his great love, and that his features would never light up like they did whenever they were together, but whenever she saw pictures or clips of him and his girlfriend, she knew that what they’d felt for one another was nothing compared to what he felt for her. She could tell by the intensity of his gaze, the loving, protecting, and adoring gaze with which he looked upon her face, and that little smile that seemed to be a permanent fixture on his face. He was different when he was with Paulina. He was happier. And Chelsy knew that Harry wouldn’t let go of that. Harry knew to little of true joy to let it slip away.

“You’re fucking mental, Jake.” She stood up and walked towards the door, there was a small window there, not big enough to give them a clear view of their surroundings, but enough to let her see directly ahead, down a long corridor. She hoped to get someone’s attention, to ask what was going on, why they were taking so long, and she approached the window with that in mind, but when her eyes peered out the window, they weren’t greeted by a police officer, they were greeted by Harry’s gingery self moving towards them. “He’s here!” she cried, not taking her eyes off him. “Jake, he’s finally here!”

“What?” Jake stopped mid step. “Is he? Is Harry here? About fucking time! Go on, Chels. Get out of the way, let me have a look.” He practically pushed her aside. “There’s that freckly bastard! I knew he’d come through. He always does, even if he takes ages at it. Should we step back? What do ya think?”

“I reckon we should.” Chelsy took a seat on the bench that doubled as a bed. “Sit down, Jake!” she ordered. “We’ve got to seem somewhat composed, now go on. Have a seat.”

“Oh alright,” he huffed, and took a seat beside Chelsy.

It wasn’t long before the Assistant Commissioner unlocked the door to the holding cell, and informed Chelsy and Jake that they were released from custody, all they had to do was pick up their personal belongings that had been confiscated. They gladly did as they were told, abandoning the bench most eagerly, but not before heartily thanking Harry for having gotten them out of trouble. They kept going on about how they’d have to make it up to him, take him to dinner or something of the sort. Harry assured them that they didn’t owe him anything. He just wanted them to grab their belongings and slip on their shoes and jackets so they could be on their way. He’d been gone enough, and was anxious about getting to Oxford so he could sort things out with Paulina.

She was going to be upset, of that much he was certain. But he wasn’t sure if she’d be home. He’d sent her several texts, hoping that keeping her posted on what was happening in London would reflect well, because she’d feel that he at least wanted to keep her in the loop, but none of his messages had been responded to. The same went for his phone calls. He tried to get in touch with her during the drive to London, and then during the hour that he was forced to wait for the Commissioner, but she hadn’t answered. He’d gone straight to voicemail.

“Thanks again,” spoke Jake as they pulled out of the parking structure. “Don’t know what we would’ve done without you. Dad would’ve fucking killed me if he’d found out! Can you imagine what it would’ve been like? He would’ve got out on of those damn riding crops on me. And it’s not like I would’ve deserved it. It was only a bit of coke, nothing serious. I honestly don’t see why they made such a big fuss about it. There was barely enough for a decent line for each of us!”

“I reckon it must’ve had something to do with it being illegal and all,” commented Harry. He honestly couldn’t believe Jake was acting like he hadn’t done anything wrong. He’d done coke in a public restroom. The idiot had been completely at fault. “And I don’t suppose the police can help it when someone’s breaking the law so publically.”

“The police weren’t there though.” Jake stated. “It was the owners that sold us out. They could’ve just turned a blind eye or asked us to flush it, but no, they made a big arse deal about it! They had the security go in and grab us! And then they called the bloody police and it was just too much for it. It was a bit of coke. Not like anyone got hurt over it. And we were discreet. Right, Chels?”

“As discreet as being in a loo is,” she replied, tiredly.

“It was discreet.” Jake shot her a nasty look. “Those wankers just decided to screw us over, is all, but not to worry, I'll make sure no one ever steps foot there again. They’ll lose loads of business over this.”

“Ya can’t do that to them, wouldn’t be right.” Harry couldn’t believe Jake wanted to punish the restaurant for his own stupidity. “They were just following the law, can’t blame them for that! It’s your fault for having done coke in the loo. Who the fuck does coke during the lunch hour at a public restaurant?” questioned Harry, gruffly.

“It wasn’t that much!” Jake protested.

“Doesn’t matter how much it was! Don’t be daft, Jake. You had coke there. Fucking coke! And if you were in the mood for some, then you should’ve had it before you got to the restaurant or afterwards, doing it there was asking for trouble. I mean, honestly Jake, could you really not control yourself until after?” Harry shook his head disapprovingly. “And you,” he turned to Chelsy, “You should’ve known better. You rarely ever did any of that. Or have you started using more?”

“Don’t be stupid. You know I don’t use regularly. Once, maybe twice a year, but I don’t make a habit of it. And I wasn’t even planning on using any today, but then . . . well, fuck it, I don’t know, I just bloody went with him because it sounded like it’d be a laugh. Alright?” she said, defensively. “We thought it’d be a laugh, and it turns out it wasn’t. That’s what happened. Were we fucking idiots? Yeah. We were. But it’s done with, and that’s all there is to that. So thanks for getting us out of trouble, but don’t you dare try to get all high and mighty with us. You’ve done worse.”

“Not in public, though.” Harry reminded.

“We used to drop E in public loads of times.” Jake hated that Harry had conveniently forgotten their nights on ecstasy. “Don’t ya remember?”

“I-it’s not the same!” argued Harry, stammering slightly. “Fucking E is just a tablet. Ya can take that anywhere, no one would even know what it is! But with coke, everyone knows exactly what it is, and it takes time to set it up, so don’t even pretend that it’s the same bloody thing! And I don’t do E anymore. That was a phase, is all.”

“Yeah, back when you used to be fun,” Jake spat.

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “What was that?”

“You heard me. You used to do shit like that, and have a laugh over it, even if we did get in trouble, but not anymore. No. Now you’re better than that. You behave now.”

“Jake . . .” Chelsy hissed as she elbowed him in the ribs. “Enough.”

“It’s the truth though. He hardly ever goes out with any of his mates anymore. Always off doing something else, he is.”

“Stop the car!” bellowed Harry, and Alistair did just that, he pulled over to the side of the road and parked. “Listen here, Jake. I’ve got training. That’s where I'm at most of the bloody time, and then I’ve got royal duties to see to, and rarely, very fucking rarely do I have free time for myself. And I make a bit of time to be with you lads.”

“It’s never just the lads though. You’re always bringing your bird around.”

“That’s because I rarely ever see her! And I want to spend time with her. And you know what? I’d rather be bloody spending time with her than you, and that’s what I should’ve been doing today. But no, you got yourself mixed up with coke, and I had to ditch her on her birthday to come sort things out for you, and now you’re telling me off because I don’t fucking do stupid shit anymore! Fuck that! And fuck you. We’re twenty-five, Jack. We’ve got to grow up at some point.”

“You weren’t so keen on growing up before.” Jake reminded. “This is all her doing, that’s what it is.”

“Get out!” ordered Harry, unable to take any more of Jake’s nonsense. “Go on! Get! I'm not about to sit here and listen to you bad talk my girlfriend, now get the fuck out Jake, get a cab and go home. And sorry, Chels, but I can’t give you a lift home, wouldn’t look right.”

“S’alright.” She unbuckled her seatbelt. “I understand. Come on, Jake. Get your arse out.”

“Like hell I –” Jake began to say, but he was shoved out of the car by Chelsy. “What was that for?” he said, glaring at her from his place on the pavement. “That arsehole needs to –”

Chelsy slammed the door shut behind her. “That asshole got us out of jail. That asshole also happens to be one of your best friends, and you better start acting like that Jake. Now get your ass up. We need a cab.”

As Chelsy and Jake began looking for a cab, Alistair turned on the engine. “To Oxford, Sir?” he asked Harry.

“Yes.” He rubbed his tired eyes. “But first let’s stop at a flower shop. I’ve a feeling I’ll be needing, every last sunflower in England tonight.”

Since it was after six in the evening, most of the flower shops had either already closed or were in the process of doing so. It took a bit of driving around before they managed to find one that was still opened and carried sunflowers, and even then, they didn’t have as many as Harry would’ve liked. He’d fancied himself showing up at her flat with five dozen sunflowers, a grand display that might have bought him enough time to begin apologizing before she started telling him off, but there were only two and a half dozen sunflowers. He’d asked the florist if she knew of any other shops that were still open, that still had some sunflowers in stock, but she told him no. Most shops she knew closed up by six, since by then, most people would have purchased their flowers.

Despite his dissatisfaction with the quantity, he warmly thanked the florist just the same, and then climbed back into the car. He placed the thirty flowers between his legs for safekeeping, and then gave the order for Alistair to begin the drive.

It wouldn’t be long before they arrived at Oxford, an hour, hour and fifteen minutes at the most. It’d be about eight by then, and he had a feeling that Paulina wouldn’t be in her flat, though there was a part of him that secretly hoped she would’ve been so upset with him that she’d have decided against going out, and stayed in her flat, sulking and casting looks at the door. That way when he showed up, she’d be there waiting for him, and they could sort things out and have their fight over with. It was going to be rough, he knew that for certain. She was one of those women that spoke their minds freely, and didn’t hold back on their feelings, and while he loved that most of the time, there were moments when it didn’t really work out in his favor. Sometimes her passions ran a little to wild, but he’d get through it. He’d have to. He’d been in the wrong, and had to make things right for them.

And as he walked up the stairs to her apartment, he mentally prepared himself for what was to come. He’d have to keep his mouth shut, stop his temper from flaring, genuinely pay attention to whatever she would shout at him, and then apologize until she forgave him. He was preparing for what would undoubtedly be the biggest fight of their relationship, but when he took out the spare key she’d given him, and opened the door, she was nowhere to be found.

Paulina had left about ten or so minutes before they’d shown up, and she didn’t get back until nearly four in the morning, when Alfred and Olivia dropped her off at the apartment. The three of them had taken a cab together, since they were the only ones that didn’t run off with strangers during the night. And Alfred and Olivia sat there waiting until she entered the building and they could no longer see her. After that, she was left to her own devices, and climbed up the stairs as best she could. The damn things seemed to stretch forever, she cursed herself for not having gone over to Alfred’s flat like they’re pressed her to, but she wanted to sleep in her own bed, a friend’s couch didn’t seem like a good place to spend her birthday night.

She sang aloud to herself as she moved up the stairs, occasionally stopping to utter a curse or two, but she sang for the most part, and her singing traveled through the deserted corridors. And when she’d reached the floor upon which she lived, her loud, out of key singing, grabbed the attention of the exhausted ginger that had been waiting for her get back for hours.

“Paulin?” he said when he heard her voice. “Paulina?” he shouted a bit louder, hoping to get her attention, but there was no response.

It was then that he realized her singing was coming from the hallway, and without thinking twice, he rushed towards the door, threw it open, and ran outside.

“Paulina!” he cried when he saw her stumbling towards the apartment. “You’re back. I was –”

“Oh, shit! Look who decided to show up!” slurred Paulina, her eyes narrowed as she grew ever closer to him. “His Royal Highness has decided to grace me with his . . . his presence.” She tried to do a curtsy, but in her current state of intoxication, ended up stumbling, and nearly fell on the floor. If it hadn’t been for Harry, she would’ve ended up face first on the hardwood flooring.

“For fuck’s sake, you’re drunk!” he exclaimed as he helped her up.

“I'm not drunk!” she pulled her arm away from him. “I'm . . . alright, yeah, I'm a little fucking drunk. What’s it to you? Hmm? It ain’t none of your business.”

“It actually is.”

“You weren’t here for my birthday so it’s none of your business, now move! I’ve got to get some sleep and you need to leave.”

“I'm not about to leave. Not while you’re like this. Look at the state of you! You can hardly walk!”

“It’s my birthday!” she paused. “It was my birthday! I can drink however much I want, whenever I want, however I want when it’s my damn birthday! So don’t you try to be up in here telling me that I'm drunk, because you’ve got no right to be here!” she hissed. “Okay? You should be in London with the cokeheads!” despite having shouted it, her voice cracked, giving way to a fresh wave of misery. “Go with your cokeheads! You love them more than you do me!”

“Don’t be daft. That’s not bloody true!”

“You love them enough to miss my birthday!” she stormed inside her apartment and began to peel off her jacket. “You promised me that you’d be here with me, but you weren’t! You went off with them!”

“I didn’t want to.”

“But you did! You ran off!”

“And you didn’t answer my calls!” he shot back. “I came out here soon as I could, and I called, and called, but you didn’t answer, not once! I’ve been worried sick all night, wondering where it was you’d gone off to, wondering what plans you –”

“Wondering?!” she repeated, her face flushing in indignation. “You were wondering what the plans were? You know what the plans were! I’d been telling you them all week! Dinner at the steakhouse, drinks at Callum and Terry’s, and then the club! Those were the fucking plans!” He tried to reach out to her, to take her into his hold, but she stepped back. “Don’t touch me!” she hissed. “Don’t you dare!” she shouted.

“I didn’t mean to forget,” he said in a soft, comforting voice. “I never meant to hurt you not on your birthday, not ever, but things came up and I had to sort them out. And I'm sorry, I'm terribly sorry for having upset you, but please just forgive me. Yeah? I’ll make it up to you. I promise. I’ll take you to France. You’ve been meaning to visit Paris.”

“I don’t want you to take me anywhere! I wanted you to be here with me on my birthday. Don’t try to bribe me with Paris! I don’t care about Paris. I just wanted you in Oxford. That was it! I wanted to have my boyfriend with me, and to be happy, but you . . . oh, you couldn’t give me that. And I hate you!”

“Don’t say that. You don’t mean it.”

“I do.” She proclaimed defiantly. “You promised you’d be with me. And you weren’t. And I hate you for that! I hate you for having ruined my day! And I can’t stand the sight of you! Get out of my apartment! I don’t want you here! Get out!”

“I'm not leaving!” Harry wasn’t about to run, he’d sat through enough romantic films to know he had to stay. “Not until we’re better! We need to talk things out.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. It is.”

“Well have fun talking to yourself!” She stormed into the bedroom area and grabbed a blanket and a pillow off the bed. “Goodnight!”

“What do ya mean? We’re not getting to bed until we’re – oh, don’t you dare! Don’t you fucking go in there!” he followed after her. “Don’t you go into that bathroom, get your arse out here!”

“No!” she bellowed and slammed the bathroom door shut, locking it behind her for safe measure. “If you want to talk to me, then you’re just going to have to wait until morning, because I'm exhausted, so goodnight!”

“Why do you have to be such a stubborn arse?” he shouted. “Paulin!” he cried.

“Quiet your face!” Paulina threw her pillow into the bathtub and set her sleeping space up. “I need my sleep! I'm having a party here tomorrow! That was also part of my plans, in case you couldn’t remember.”

“I remember that well enough. And I’ll be here when you stop throwing your damn tantrum and decide to come out.” He followed her example and grabbed a pillow and blanket from the bed, and set up his own space in front of the bathroom door. “Stubborn arse . . .” he muttered to himself as he wrapped the blanket around himself. “So bloody impossible . . .”