Arabella.

There was a naked girl in my bed – or at least naked from the waist up anyway – back to me as her hair fanned out over the pillow under her head. Her skin was tan, gold from the summer sun, and soft and delicate. The sun was starting to peek in through the window, casting pink and yellow shadows all over the room. She shifted, sighing and whining softly as the sun rested on her face.

I could feel myself smiling – and if you knew me at all, you’d know I didn’t smile very often – as I watched her shift, burying her face further in the pillow as her feet brushed mine beneath the thin sheet. I touched her shoulder, grasping it gently as I shook her awake. She turned toward me, opening her eyes as she smiled.

“Morning, Harry,” she said, kissing my nose.

I woke up, sweating and panting as I struggled to get a hold of myself. I was dreaming about a girl I’d only spoken to twice and couldn’t speak to again without risking one of Zayn’s extra special beat downs – the kinds that included his partner in crime, his silver bat.

The guys joked about it whenever they thought I looked down – poor Romeo can’t talk to his Juliet! And I just shot them glares, but couldn’t say anything because they really did have a point. Pushing my damp hair back, I realized that I couldn’t let things go on the way they had. Something had to give.

Except, of course, that nothing would, and when I tried going out with Molly, a girl who had slept with all of us at least three times, I couldn’t stop thinking about that clumsy little girl and ended up going home alone because I didn’t see the point in putting up with Molly and her overbearing perfume and cheap makeup.

Arabella was slowly but surely ruining my life, and the worst part was that she didn’t even know.

I thought I'd get over it. I had to get over it - Zayn was going to kill me the next time he saw me probably, so I had to nip this little infatuation of sorts in the bud. And it wasn't like I'd ever see her again if she was anything like her sister, Perrie.

Perrie moved in Gemma's circle, went to fancy posh parties and used handkerchiefs and drank tea and was so damn prim and proper and uptight. None of us understood why she went to Lou's birthday party last summer, or why she started talking to a guy who spent most of his nights fighting, drinking, and getting himself into a world of trouble. But the point is that she did, and then even though Zayn didn't cool his antics down one bit, they stayed together through everything, and she went down to bail him out if he ever got into trouble, which partially explained why Zayn never got into any serious trouble with the law. (Probably had something to do with Perrie's uncle working for the mayor and all.)

Perrie wasn't like the kind of girls that ran around with us - wasn't crazy, didn't like to get her hands particularly dirty (unless it involved Zayn) - but if there was one thing that Perrie would absolutely kill over, it would be her little sister. Her father went south to Mexico for business and ended up getting a little more than a good deal on contracting supplies. (He ended up getting his housekeeper pregnant, which is where Arabella came from.) Perrie had a pretty good attitude about it, and talked about her little sister all the time. No one could joke about her, or say anything rude or mean without risking Perrie and Zayn both ripping you apart. And she hadn't even met her yet. None of us had.

And then she came to Perrie's. Perrie had mentioned something about having a guest in passing one night at Lou's, but she never said it was her.

Arabella Monterrey.

After the party, I wanted to avoid her - I wanted nothing more than to forget the clumsy girl who had a penchant for making me feel like I couldn't breathe, but I just couldn't. She was everywhere. When I say everywhere, I mean everywhere. At the movies, at parties, at the ice cream truck at four on the dot, at the grocery store – I just couldn’t seem to escape Arabella and I couldn’t completely say I minded.

Since I wanted to lie low for a few days and maybe try to forget about her (a boy could dream after all), I went up to Gem’s. So yeah, her husband couldn’t stand me and hated my guts, but I was her brother and family came first when it came to Gem. And he was at a conference in Miami for the week, so it didn’t even matter. Gem’s lived in a hotel, real fancy-like, real china, real glass – the works. So, anyway – I was hiding out at Gem’s, right? I was on the complete opposite side of town and I severely doubted that Arabella could find her way over here by herself and Perrie probably wasn’t letting her out of her sight if Zayn told her about the party. The chance of seeing her was very, very low.

I could finally get it together.

And then, Gem sent me out to the candy store to pick up some mints and taffy because she was having a tea party – apparently that was a real thing and not just a game – and she wanted to have a nice spread. The candy store already had her order because she called earlier that morning. It was just a matter of picking it up, and since she was busy decorating and setting up her flowers and all that nonsense, she wouldn’t have time to get it before her fancy friends came, which left it up to me. It was fine. Although Gem didn’t say anything, I had a feeling it’d be best if I didn’t stick around for the tea party.

I didn’t like tea anyway.

So, I wandered through the city, taking in how the other side lived. How could Gem live like that? Everything was so clean and fake. Even if my life wasn’t squeaky clean, at least it was real. At least it meant something to me and Lou and everyone else in our circle. At least we were real.

For supper, I stepped into a diner that looked somewhat okay and sat at the busy counter. There was only one seat left, and that was the one to my left, against the wall. The waitress gave me a menu and told me she’d be back in moment. I was excited – Gem ate really healthily, and I happened to like my food deep friend and as unhealthy as could be, so obviously, I was having some troubles.

The stool next to me creaked, but I barely paid it any mind as the waitress came to take my order. I ordered a burger with all the fixings, a Coke, and fries.

“I’ll have what he’s having,” she said. I almost fell over, startled. There Arabella was, plain as day. Her hair was braided down her back, wearing a white blouse and jeans with some tennis shoes. “Hey, you.”

“Hi.” I glanced down at my wrapped silverware, nervous. “I-Isn’t Zayn going to be upset if he finds out you followed me here?”

“Who said I followed you?” I shot her a pointed look. “I like greasy cheap food too, Harry. You’re not special.”

“Right,” I said, laughing cheaply as I rolled my eyes. The waitress set down two Cokes, smiling at me and winking. “What brings you to this side of town?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“You live near me.”

She shrugged, pulling the paper wrapping off her straw.

“Seriously, Arabella, I don’t want any trouble with Zayn or Perrie.” I sighed, running a hand down my face. She simply smiled. (She was a little ball of sunshine, smiling at every damn thing.)

Our food came and we ate quietly, her knee brushing mine. I’ve never been particularly emotional or even really swayed by simple things like that, but I swear I could hear my heart beating in my ears loudly every time our elbows brushed or when our finger tips touched because she asked me for the ketchup bottle. I paid for her because I didn’t see why I shouldn’t. She followed me silently, arm brushing mine as we walked down the crowded avenue.

“What are you doin’, kid?” I asked, looking down at her. (She was tiny, so tiny.) “Seriously.”

“Why does Zayn hate you so much?” I shrugged, digging a cigarette out of my pocket and a book of matches. I lit it and threw away the match, blowing some smoke away from us. “What’d you do? You wouldn’t hurt a fly.” I laughed, looking down at her. “You’re perfectly harmless. I think this is all a big front you’re putting on and that on the inside, you’re actually really sweet and gooey.”

“I don’t think you know me as well as you think you do.”

“I want to,” she offered simply as we turned down a less crowded and definitely shadier street. A man stood across the street and looked Arabella and me up and down. I wrapped an arm around her, not because I wanted to touch her (but I did and her skin was so soft) but because I didn’t want any trouble. Not with her there, anyway. “I’m not cold, Harry. It’s almost 70 – ”

“You don’t want to get to know me, Arabella.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” she said, shrugging me off playfully. I pulled her down an alley way, pressing her against the wall. “You won’t hurt me. I know you won’t,” she said, but her hands still shook.

“Do you know who I am?” I asked, looking down at her. “Do you know what I can do? Do you know what I’ve done? I’ll hurt you and I’m not going to put you in that kind of position just ‘cause you wanna piss off your sister’s boyfriend – ”

“I’m a big girl,” she said, leaning closer. “You don’t scare me.”

“But I will,” I replied, shaking my head. “That’s not a threat, Arabella. That’s a promise. You can’t be Perrie and fix me, okay? I’m not Zayn. I’m bad to the bone.” She simply smiled and kissed my cheek, hair blowing with the light breeze. I tried not to be swayed by that small little gesture but couldn’t help feeling a little light headed. “I’ll beat someone bloody just ‘cause he looked at me the wrong way. I like to drink and smoke and I’ve been known to get a little trigger happy from time to time. Zayn doesn’t want you around me because he doesn’t want me to ruin you, and he’s right in thinking I will. Don’t you know? I’ll tear you apart, little girl.”

And Arabella smiled, big and bright, as she said, “Not if I tear you apart first, Harry.”

So much for getting over it.