Like Clouds Cross Skies

Lianne is sat on the bathroom floor, her arms resting on the toilet seat. For someone who's feeling sick, she looks remarkably chirpy. Some colour has returned to her skin, and she's managed to sleep most of this off.

“You know what, Kailey, sometimes you astound me.”

I sigh and lean back against the wall, but Lianne offers me an amused smile. “I know, I know,” I breathe.

“At least you got the answers I needed.”

I shrug. “True, but I also left your notes behind.”

Lianne chokes out a laugh. “Because you ran away!”

I groan, but I'm trying to see the funny side. “Maybe that wasn't the smoothest thing to do-”

“Nothing you ever do is smooth,” Nick says, materialising in the doorway, a bowl of cereal in his hands and his iPad tucked beneath his arm. His hair is sticking up like he's been electrocuted, although I wouldn't be surprised if that was the case; I swear my brother runs on electricity. He got back from business in the US yesterday night. He was sat in the dark, the blue glow of the TV flickering across his face, when I returned from work. He's always refused that jet lag is real.

“Anyway, more importantly,” he continues, fishing about in his bowl with the spoon, “when are you two gonna get out of my flat?”

“Never,” I say.

And Lianne adds, “You love having us around, we clean your flat when you're away and we pay rent.”

Nick shrugs. “Yeah but you're turning me into a woman.”

How this boy is six years older than me and is a successful businessman I will never understand. “You're already a woman.”

“Touché” he says, pointing his spoon at me. “Anyway, speaking of women, care to explain this?”

He balances his bowl on the edge of the sink and takes the iPad from under his arm, handing it to me. As soon as I see The Mirror in red and white block capitals I know it's not going to be good news.

And then I see the headline.

Harry Styles has lunch with mystery redhead.

I glance at Lianne and Nick in turn, but my brother only nods at me and says, “Read on, ginger.”

“I'm not ginger.”

I've never really regretted my auburn hair until now. I could take the jibes when I was a kid; it wasn't bright orange, after all, it was more a reddish-brown. I swear to God though, if I get ginger jokes written about me for all the world to see I will scream the house down. I do not need this.

Are Harry's womanising ways wearing off? See what you think as his mystery date storms from the scene.

I scroll down, and immediately I'm rewarded with a grainy picture, taken through the café window as I rushed past Harry.

I don't bother reading past that; I don't want to know. I really, really don't.

When I was younger, I had imagined myself in the newspapers and magazines like any girl would. What little girl doesn't want to be famous? Then I grew up, set that dream aside, like an urn on the mantelpiece. Yet somehow I've done it anyway; I've landed myself in the media, but it's against my will.

Fucking brilliant.

“Here,” I say, thrusting the iPad back at Nick.

“How do you even know him anyway?” he asks.

I point at Lianne and she smiles sheepishly. “I'm interviewing him for a feature,” she tells Nick. “My drink got spiked, Kailey went in my place, she freaked out when the paparazzi turned up and ran away.”

A bark of laughter escapes Nick. “Classic.”

“I've even got the conversation recorded,” Lianne adds, her smile widening.

Nick pauses in eating his cereal. “Can I hear it?”

“No, definitely not,” I snap. “Now piss off.”

I swat at his legs but he just laughs, unmoving.

“You're working the lunch shift, aren't you?” Lianne asks me, and I nod. “Good, pub crawl tonight then.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Did you miss the part where your drink got spiked the other night?”

She waves my words away. “I'll just have orange juice or something. Anyway, if I survive lunch with Harry then I'm sure I'm well enough to get through a pub crawl.”

Nick snorts. “Are you expecting Harry to be off his tits and swinging his clothes round his head?”

“Is that what you'll be doing tonight?” I ask him.

He scoffs. “Of course.”

Lianne rolls her eyes at him. “I didn't mean it like that. I meant that if I don't vomit all over Harry this lunch time then I should be back to normal. Oh,” she adds, turning to me, “don't worry about the notes; I'll get them back from Harry at lunch.”

“Alright,” I say, getting to my feet. “Anyway, I'd better get ready for my shift.”

* * *

The September air is pleasant, but there's a cold front blowing in, and it's now that I realise I should have really brought a jacket with me. I thought my checked shirt would be enough, but then again I am wearing it tucked into a black skirt. My sheer tights are thin as well, so they don't exactly keep me any warmer. The only thing I have to be happy about is that I at least chose my brogues instead of heels.

Lianne leans a little closer to me and whispers, “That guy keeps looking at you.”

She nods towards a blonde guy sat at a picnic table with his mates.

I pull a face. “I don't really like blondes.”

Lianne gives me a disapproving look. “I know, but he could have a lovely personality.”

I raise an eyebrow at her as the breeze snatches bits of blonde boy's conversation, filling our ears with the wonderful tale of his threesome the other night. “Yeah, sounds like such a catch.”

“Speaking of 'a catch',” Nick interrupts, staring behind us as he takes a sip of his pint.

Lianne and I turn around, and I have to say our immediate reactions couldn't be more different.

“Hi Harry,” Lianne calls, her maxi skirt rippling as she gets to her feet.

I just stare.

He smiles, those dimples forming in his cheeks, as the two of them hug. “I've got your notes for you,” he says, producing them from his blazer.

Shouldn't he have given those back at lunch?

Nick catches my eyes over his pint glass as I turn back, attempting to bury his smile in the froth of his Guinness. I'm about to scowl at him when Harry is suddenly opposite me, taking the free seat beside Nick.

As Harry swings his gangly legs over the bench, he smiles at me, and I offer an awkward one of my own in return.

I'd like to find a sandpit and submerge my head in it.

“This is Nick,” Lianne says, gesturing at him, “Kailey's brother.”

“And landlord,” Nick adds, catching my eye again, and I can see the amusement flickering there, an ignited flame. He's going to have fun with this tonight.

“I thought your flat looked a bit...” Harry starts, frowning as he searches for the word.

“Male?” I mumble, reaching for my drink.

He looks at me and smiles, a proper smile this time. “Yeah, a bit boyish.”

There, he's accepted the olive branch. I threw in a hint about that stupid 'boys clothes' joke and now we're fine, I'm no longer that weird girl who ran away, that weird girl he's linked to.

I hope.

“Anyway,” Harry starts, slapping his hands on his legs, “shall I get this round?”

“Go for it,” Nick says, “another Guinness for me please, mate.”

“Alright,” Harry answers before turning expectantly to us.

I look to Lianne. “Strawberry and lime Rekorderlig please,” she says with a smile.

Harry looks to me. “I'll have the same, thanks,” I tell him.

“Okay,” he says, clambering off the bench. “Back in a sec.”

As soon he's out of earshot, I turn on Lianne. “I thought you had lunch with him today.”

She shrugs. “I lied.”

I stare at her, and she continues, “Look, I know you. Even if you won't admit it, you need to clear the air. You've never liked having bad feeling or awkwardness between you and someone else; you always have to sort it out. So I'm just helping make that happen.”

I don't admit that I know she's right. I'd rather forget about that article than remain angry over it. I just want it all to go away.

When Harry returns with the drinks, I don't have much input in the conversation. It's not that I don't want to talk, it's just that I know as soon as I open my mouth I'll make a fool of myself again. Better to be tipsy and blame anything I say on the drink rather than sober and have to accept whatever words I utter. So I sit and listen and smile and laugh at the right times, and I drink my cider, waiting for the moment my doubts begin to fall, like tower blocks demolished.

By the time we reach the third pub, the breeze is sharper. The sun is long gone, and night has spread like a bruise across the sky. Everything has this sheen to it, and I know it's the alcohol.

It's Nick's turn to get a round in, and we're huddled at the bar, waiting to be served, when someone shoves their way forward and claps Nick on the shoulder.

It's Aaron's brother, Nathan.

“Nicholas Hart, what rock have you been hiding under, hey?”

The two of them talk, loudly. I turn to Lianne where her and Harry stand just behind me, and I exchange a glance with her.

Do you think he's here?

I don't know.

“You alright?” Harry asks, leaning a little closer so he can be heard. The music in the pub is blaring, and the place itself is overflowing with people.

“I'm fine,” I answer, offering him a smile, but I can feel its unconvincing.

My eyesight is really starting to swim. There's a pressure on my temples, like someone has clamped my head on either side. It's so hot in here, stuffy, humid with body heat.

“I think I'm just gonna go outside for a minute, I need some fresh air,” I say.

Both Lianne and Harry frown. But Harry is only doing so with blind concern. Lianne knows why I'm feeling like this; it's not just the alcohol.

“I'll come with you,” she says, already turning to leave.

“No, it's fine, Li, I'll only be a minute.”

Her frown deepens, but the two of them step aside to let me pass. Harry and I share an awkward smile as I squeeze past. He must think I'm a walking panic attack.

The night air is now a respite. I breathe in lungfuls of it, crisp and clean. There are a few people outside, smoking and drinking.

“Kailey?”

I turn at the sound of my name. Eve Hill stands a few metres away, taking a drag on her cigarette. I went to sixth form with her, and as always her thick blonde hair is pulled into a messy bun. She still looks effortlessly pretty.

“Hiya.”

“Long time no see.”

“I know right, it's been a while. You're on a gap year?”

She nods, stamping her feet to fend off the chill. “Yeah. You're on one too, aren't you?”

“Yep,” I reply.

Only I haven't spent it travelling, like I'd dreamed. A few months in and I'm just a waitress, barely able to afford to live in my brother's flat.

Eve's phone beeps and she checks it. “Ah, I'm being summoned,” she says, dropping her cigarette and grinding it beneath her heel. “I'll see you around, yeah?”

“I'm always around,” I reply, offering a smile, and she gives me one in return before disappearing back inside.

I'm starting to feel the cold now. Goosebumps are beginning to prickle my arms. I don't want to worry the others, so I turn to the door.

A hand latches onto my wrist and whips me round. Aaron's eyes stare back at me, dark and bloodshot. He's pissed. The stench of alcohol and cigarettes wafts off him.

“You haven't been answering me.”

“Hello to you too,” I snap, attempting to shake his hand off, but he won't let go.

“I'd liked to have heard the words from your mouth rather than reading them in the news,” he continues, like I never even spoke.

I roll my eyes, but my heart is going all out, colliding with my ribs over and over, again and again. “Jesus Christ, Aaron, I'm not seeing Harry Styles.”

He snorts. “Well that's bullshit if I ever heard it.”

“Get off me, Aaron.” I try and rip my arm from his grip again, but he's unshakeable.

I don't like the look in his eyes. Not at all.

“I've seen the photos, Kailey, you can't lie your way out of this one,” he says through gritted teeth, his face looming closer, his breath foul.

This isn't the Aaron I knew. He looks similar. He still has those cheekbones and long eyelashes that a girl would kill for. But those features have been marred, have taken a backseat to the ruddy red of his cheeks from the alcohol, the chapped lips, the bags beneath his eyes.

This isn't Aaron any more.

“Everything alright?”

I look over my shoulder, and Harry stands behind me, hovering in the doorway, a little unsteady on his feet. He still looks concerned, always looking concerned for me recently, but his posture strengthens, and for pretty much the first time in our brief acquaintance I'm happy to see him.

Aaron throws his head back, laughing. His grip on my wrist tightens. It's starting to hurt. “Really,” he says to me, grinning while his eyes burn, “you brought the little pop star with you?”

“Drop it, Aaron,” I hiss at him. “I've already explained the situation, it's your own fault if you don't believe me.”

“Well let's get pretty boy's opinion,” he says, looking to Harry. “What is this to you then? A hit and run?”

I wince inwardly. What hurts the most is that Aaron thinks so lowly of me. He thinks that now I don't have him I'll jump into bed with the first guy that comes along.

“Maybe you should let go of her,” Harry says. There's a warning note in his voice. He steps closer, and I see that the two boys are of a similar height.

Just please don't fight. Please don't let alcohol get the better of you. I don't care about that stupid news article. I just care about the here, the now.

“Maybe I don't want to.” Aaron's voice is low.

Harry laughs, but it's cold.

You don't know what you're getting yourself into.

I twist in Aaron's grip to get a better look at Harry. I place a hand on his chest, like that will make any difference. “It's okay, Harry.”

“No, it's not,” he answers, and he manges to tear his gaze away from Aaron to look at me. “I don't know who he is, but I don't like the way he's treating you.” He returns his gaze to Aaron. “Now let go of her.”

Aaron opens his mouth to speak when the noise of the pub suddenly gets louder. I turn back to the door to see Nathan, his brother, standing there. He assesses the situation almost immediately, and his expression hardens. He strides towards his brother, gently but firmly beginning to push him back. “Leave it, Aaron, just leave it. Not tonight.”

Aaron's grip slackens then falls away altogether. Nathan pushes him further back, throwing an apologetic look over his shoulder, but Aaron doesn't tear his gaze away.

And I realise he's not looking at me; he's looking at Harry.

I glance up at him to see he's returning Aaron's gaze. Now it's my turn to force the retreat. “Come on,” I say, trying to move him.

He obliges, but not without a little resistance. Finally, he manages to look at me again, and the disgust in his eyes catches me off guard. “Does he treat all girls like that?”

I sigh, but it's shaky, adrenaline coursing through my veins. “He didn't used to.”

His expression softens a little, and he holds the door open for me, raising an eyebrow. “Is he your ex?”

I remember how one of the first things I mentioned to Harry, back in that night club, was my ex. Somehow I never imagined Harry and Aaron ever meeting. To be honest, I'd never imagined my ever meeting Harry again. “Unfortunately,” I reply. “Thank you, though.”

He smiles, but his posture still seems a little tight. “You don't have to thank me.”

“No, I do,” I say, but I can't bring myself to elaborate.

And, thankfully, Harry doesn't ask me to.

“Do you know what you need?” he says, steering me through the crowd. His smile grows from kind to mischievous. “Alcohol.”

Nick and Lianne come into view, sat at a corner table. The cider I ordered waits for me. I manage a laugh. “That sounds perfect round about now.”

But even the drink can't shake this feeling.