Captured

My cheeks flushed. If there was an award for the Biggest Douchebag, I'd gladly confer it to Harry and probably match the medal and certificate with a huge slap on the face. But right now, if such award existed, it'd be my honor to give it to Louis. I mean, where the hell did that come from??

"What the actual fuck, Louis?" I punched him on his shoulder, hard.

"It's just a game, love," Louis laughed, but I know he's hurt from my punch by the way he's rubbing his shoulder, "And nobody's feelings will get hurt, right?"

What kind of question was that?

"You suck, Lou," Zayn said then drank from his can of beer first before moving closer to me, "This is just a game, okay?"

I nodded. I didn't even know why. But maybe I didn't have a time at all to think about anything, because Zayn's lips were on mine, and things suddenly happened way too fast.

His weight pushed me back, and I was lying against the sand. Then his hands were on my face, and they were really warm, which kind of made the whole situation a bit more intense. After a while I realized I was kissing him back, and his lips tasted like Budweiser. I could hear his breathing and heart beat, which were in a spontaneous cadence with mine. I was so lost in the moment that I couldn't even compel my brain to do something.

Until his rough gravelly voice brought me back to reality.

"Okay Zayn, your 15 seconds are over."

Zayn and I were still kissing. No, actually, scratch that. We were making out, in front of my best friend Bridget and in front of the rest of One Direction. And we didn't stop even if Harry Styles just said that the fifteen seconds are up.

"Zayn I said that's enough," Harry sounded very stern and grim.

And with that, Zayn got up. He held out his hands and pulled me up, and I brushed the sand off my hair. He went back to his place without saying anything, looking very awkward and cute at the same time. And then my eyes were on Harry, who busied himself by staring blankly at the bon fire.

We carried on to the next game like nothing happened. Louis won for two consecutive rounds, leaving him in his Superman boxers. And then Harry won, which made my heart skip a beat thinking that Louis had something silly in mind again. Instead, we all agreed to let Harry drink three cans of beer since he's the only one who's not gotten any sort of "fun" yet.

Time passed by, of course it did, but none of us really noticed. Who would? We weren't even sober enough to say no when Liam said it'd be great to go swimming despite the temperature that would probably leave us with hypothermia the next day. Everybody ran towards the beach, frolicking, bodies crashing against the waves. We splashed water to each other, laughed, drank more beer.

I've never actually felt this good in my life before. Yes, this "get-away" started on the wrong foot, and along the way it stumbled upon rocks, but despite all that, it managed to become one of the best escapades in my life. Apparently, not only Harry Styles needed a break from all the apocryphal controversies, paparazzis who watched his every move, screaming fans, and other things that come with being a member of One Direction. Just now I realized that I needed this as well.

It's almost the same when I go to the kitchen and make myself a nice cup of coffee every time my father keeps me posted with whatever bullshit he has in mind. But this time, this breather was something more. I was away, completely far from all the things I never even wanted and chose to encounter. And maybe I'm fooling myself, because sooner or later, probably tomorrow, all this will come to an end. But I really don't care. I'm glad this happened. I know there's the influence of alcohol, but I swear, this moment is also making me light-headed, but in the good kind of way. For once, I felt free.

***

Liam was too drunk to bring himself back to the beach house, so Zayn and Louis helped him do so. The three of them were teetering and struggling to even get through the front door, but they went okay, so I guess they're fine now. Niall and Bridget disappeared earlier, and god-knows what happened to those two, but you probably have a clue now.

I was being an unsteady, groggy, boozed up girl in the living room, toppling over furnitures, and attempting to see in the dark, when I saw a bright light from the kitchen and smelled something really nice. Coffee.

"I should have known you'd be here," he said, his voice low and craggy.

I was losing my footing, and just like in those foreseen magical happens-in-movies-only moments, Harry was there, just in time to catch my fall. I was staring, mesmerized with his emerald eyes. "This is my house. Of course I'm here."

"Right," he smiled, slightly manifesting his dimples, "You want coffee?"

I nodded gently, allowing him to assist me to one of the tall stools by the countertop. I sat quietly and watched him pour steaming café into a navy blue mug. Or I wasn't sure if that was navy blue. He then sat beside me and offered me the mug.

I took a sip, completely forgetting that it's probably over 100 degrees Celsius. "Fuck," I cursed, feeling the sensation of heat and pain dawn over my lips.

But somehow, the burn started to go away. His cold smooth hands were on my cheeks, and suddenly, the gap between us became smaller. Harry was a mix scent of alcohol and coffee beans, and it made me dizzy. But I felt like I was doing a very rapid pirouette when I thought he was going to kiss me.

But he didn't. "Careful, Austin," he blew lightly over my lips, then brushed it gently with his finger, taking away all the sting.

"Why are you being nice to me?" was all I could manage to say.

He looked at me, his eyebrows furrowing, "I don't understand."

"Just two days ago, we were arguing. And occasionally, you are a douche bag. And I guess I made it pretty clear that I hate you with every flesh in my body, but you're being nice to me."

Harry was silent for a long time, and I can't help but wonder if he's searching for the right words to say. He breathed heavily, and finally, "Because I'm a guilt-ridden dick head, Austin. Fuck, I am trying to be fine and dandy, and erase the impression I made on you. I want us to start over, and you question me for being nice."

What?

"But maybe I was wrong. Because you're just like them. You say things like 'Harry is a jerk' without even knowing me."

I swear I have no idea where this is coming from.

"I'm sorry that I was drunk that night when I harassed you in the elevator. I was drunk because there I thought things were going to work out between me and Ellie, but it didn't. Because she believes that I'm just going to play with her heart, that I am never going to be capable of love."

"Harry, you're drunk. You don't have to do this."

"I have to, Austin. I have to explain to you why I'm a big ass-hole. It's because you stereotype me as the bad boy. You're all judgmental. You're all the same. You, Ellie, and the rest of them."

"Harry-"

"I'm really sorry, Austin. I really am."

He slowly walked out of the kitchen, but before he entirely disappeared into the dark, he said, "I want to go back to New York."