Broken Things

“I think I need a job,” I declared.

Declan glanced over to me from where he sat on the opposite end of the couch, devouring a bowl of cereal. I was still in my pajamas, curled up in a ball on my respective side of the loveseat. An arm curled under my pillow, I craned my neck to watch his reaction.

He was prepared for work, dressed in a uniform polo and a pair of khakis. The coffee was slow in waking him up, and he moved the spoon sluggishly from the bowl to his mouth, waiting for the sugar kick. He’d been at it for fifteen minutes already, and if he kept it up much longer, he’d be late for work. Still, he’d indulged me in watching an early morning episode of The O.C., which I appreciated.

“Do you think you’ll be okay with that on top of everything else?” he asked, lifting the bowl to his lips to drink down the excess milk. I tried not to cringe. I’d always had an aversion to milk.

“I think maybe being busy will be better for me than just sitting around,” I answered honestly.

He nodded, mouth still full of the sugar-y milk, and stood to cross the room in the direction of the kitchen. I could hear the sound of water running as he rinsed out the bowl before setting it gently in the dish washer. When he returned, he was wiping his mouth on his shirt and nodding to himself. I held back from reprimanding him on his poor table manners. He’d only give me that know-it-all smirk and tell me “couch manners” are different.

“Then I say go for it. But you might want to find out about getting a license or something, too. I can’t drive you to and from every day.”

“I’ll think about it,” I answered him skeptically.

Seeing as much of the drivers in L.A. as I had, attaining a license wasn’t very high on my list of things I wanted to do in the immediate future. It was like learning to swim in a shark tank.

He shrugged like this was all he could ask of me before pulling his keys out of his pocket and pulling open the front door. Half-way through, he paused, twirling his keys in his hands. I raised an eyebrow, interested in whatever it was he had to say before he left.

“Do you want to go to a party tonight?” he asked, and I frowned. Whatever I thought he might have to say to me, that wasn’t what I had expected.

“What kind of party?” I returned, a slight lilt of hesitation in my tone of voice. He rolled his eyes like this was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard.

“A house party. Ashley and I are going, but I didn’t know if you were up for it quite yet or not.”

“Ashley and I?,” I repeated with emphasis. He let out a sigh, like he knew exactly where I was going with this. “That sounds awfully close to a ‘we’, Dec.”

“Do you or do you not want to go to this party?” he asked, pointedly looking down at his watch as if to remind me he didn’t have time for any of this.

“Why not,” I shrugged in reply.

“Be ready to go by eight-thirty,” he told me, fixing me with a hard stare. I rolled mye eyes.

It was true that back in our younger days, I’d had a tendency of promising to be ready by a certain time and taking a bit longer than predicted. This usually resulted in Declan and Harry whining for a twenty-five minutes while I finished applying make-up or curling my hair. It should be noted, however, that back in those days, I’d had a little bit more of a social calendar than I was being presented with in L.A..

Shooing him out the door, I returned my eyes to the paused episode of The O.C., hitting play right before Declan shut the door firmly behind him.

–

There was a bounce in my step throughout the rest of the day. I hadn’t been to a proper house party in years, and the idea of attending one was just short of heaven. I hadn’t realized how much I missed the atmosphere of it all, the ability to watch people from afar while slowly sinking into that tipsy haze.

I’d started getting ready early, as per Declan’s warning glare. After taking a shower, I’d gotten to work curling my hair and applying make-up, happy to have an excuse to dress better than my usual attire of yoga pants and band tee-shirts. In a skater skirt, cami and cardigan, I felt my spirits lift slightly. Appraising my reflection in the mirror, I couldn’t help but smile. For the first time in a while, I looked good.

“Sawyer?” Declan’s voice reverberated through the hall as he called my name from the front door. I could hear the keys jingling in his hands as he twirled them impatiently on his finger, a habit he’d had as long as I could remember.

With one final analysis of my attire, I flicked off the bathroom light, grabbed my bag from the bathroom counter, and practically skipped into the living room. Declan, who had been immersed in some messages on his phone, lifted his brows when he finally looked to me. I stood there, hands on my hips, waiting for a response.

With a smile, he settled for, “Someone brought their A-game.”

Pleased, I gave him an appreciative squeeze on his bicep and moved past him. He chuckled as he locked the door behind us, following behind as I bounded down the stairs and began in the direction of the parking lot.

The car had been haphazardly parked near the gate in Declan’s haste. He unlocked it and I slid in easily, buckling my seatbelt while I watched him cross in front of the headlights to the driver’s side.

He wore a pair of skinny jeans and a blue plaid shirt. I vividly remembered encouraging him to wear as much blue as possible when we’d known each other back in England. He’d been so incredulous as to why until I explained how bright it made his eyes. It seemed he’d followed the advice for so long that it became second nature to him to dress accordingly.

Starting the car, he handed me the auxilary cord to take control of whatever music I wanted to listen to on the way. With a smile, I scrolled through Spotify until I found a playlist I liked to listen to when I was in a good mood.

With the windows down, we began the drive to Silver Lake to pick up Ashley. It was 20 minutes of Declan’s amused stare on my face as I loudly and off-key sang along to Neon Trees, but I didn’t mind. It was the first time in a long time that I felt somewhat normal, and I basked in it, unsure of when the opportunity would arise again.

Declan parked the car on the curb and made his way to the front steps. I had begun to unbuckle myself to move to the back, but he shooed me away saying I was being ridiculous and Ashley wouldn’t mind. I still felt unsure, but decided not to argue further. Declan seemed to be in high spirits just as much as I was and I didn’t want to take that away from him with a petty argument.

I found myself observing them from the passenger seat. I watched as Ashley swung open the door to reveal herself in a pair of jeans, a cotton white tee, and a black leather jacket. Her hair fell in a straight curtain down her back, thick and dark. Declan had paused momentarily in his steps, only a half-second’s hesitation in appreciation that I noticed, before engulfing her in a greeting hug.

Politely, I turned away as they began to make their way back to the car. Dec pulled open the door for her and she thanked him, sliding in easily to the backseat. I twisted to give her a warm smile.

“You look amazing,” I told her just as Declan firmly shut the door. As an after thought, I added, “He won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”

She blushed at my conspiratorial wink, but didn’t make a response as Declan pulled open his own door and slid behind the wheel. With one last glance in her direction, I turned back on my playlist and sunk into my seat.

Content to listen to Icona Pop in the background as Ashley and Declan made small talk, I let my eyes fall shut as we moved slowly through the city. The traffic was taking forever, but with the cool night air hitting my face through the open windows, I felt pleasant again.

Eventually, I couldn’t help but open my eyes again. We had exited from the highway and the lights on the street were nearly blinding. Sitting up straighter in my seat, I took in a part of the city I’d never been in before. The streets were lined with nice cars and we drove past a shopping center into a more residential area.

“Where are we?” I asked, eyeing the large houses we were passing.

“Almost there,” Declan answered.

I shot him a look for his vague answer, but I knew then where we were going. I should have known all along.

With a sigh, I ran a hand through my hair, feeling slightly ridiculous. Of course the party was Harry’s, and I’d stroll in all dolled up and completely out of my league.

“Are you mad at me?” Declan asked.

I shook my head, but still confirmed with a verbal, “No.”

And the answer was true. We’d done a lot of healing over the past few days, and while it maybe wasn’t information he had volunteered, it was also information I hadn’t thought to ask for. Maybe he was simply hoping for the best, like he usually did, and in this case I found myself incapable of holding it against him.

We parked along the street, far enough away that it was a bit of a walk, but not too far to miss the amount of other cars parked in similar fashions. I couldn’t be sure what the party was for, but it was in full swing as we walked down the sidewalk. Declan entered a series of numbers into a keypad and stepped back for a large electronic door to swing open and reveal a driveway. He gestured for us to follow him.

Hesitantly, I took my first steps onto the driveway, a long winding concrete slab that led up to one of the largest houses I had ever seen in my entire life. Declan seemed confident in his steps, his arm curving around Ashley’s lower back. After a few moments, he glanced over his shoulder to check on me and frowned.

“I’ll catch up,” I assured him.

He seemed skeptical, and Ashley paused, too, stepping out of Declan’s grasp to turn to me.

“Do you want me to wait with you? It’s no problem,” Ashley offered.

I smiled at her sincerity, but shook my head.

“No, I’m fine. I just need to talk myself into doing this first. I promise I’ll only be a minute.”

They both gave me looks of concern, but I rolled my eyes and made a shooing motion with my hands. Reluctantly, Ashley grabbed Declan’s hand and pulled him toward the looming house. With Harry’s security features, I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to leave even if I wanted to, which is probably the only thing that allowed Dec to be pulled along.

With them gone, it was all I could do to keep my breathing even. From the bottom of the drive, I could hear a Foster The People remix and a cacophony of laughter and dialogue, all mixing into one. There had to be over a hundred people here, larger than any house party I had anticipated going to. Even in my best party attire, I felt unprepared for the judgmental stares of so many L.A. natives.

My advantage, and disadvantage it also seemed, was my complete lack of familiarity with anyone here, sans Declan, Harry and Ashley.

Once I had some alcohol in me, I knew I’d feel a little better, and the thought was the only thing propelling me forward. My hands furled into fists of determination, and I kept myself focused on my fingernails digging into my palms in order to sustain a normal breathing pattern. With one last deep breath, I clutched the front door handle and pushed my way in.

A stairwell was directly in front of me, and to the right, a large open living room filled with people. Light wood paneling ran the expanse of the walls, but the furthest wall was made of glass. Beyond it, a pool and a small guesthouse beyond that were visible. The yard was enormous, and I wondered in awe how much this had cost him, then dismissed it when I realized it probably hadn’t even made a dent in his savings.

When it was made obvious that no one had noticed my appearance, I made a bee-line for the kitchen, which was on the opposite side of the living room. Weaving between people, I found the island in the center of the room stocked with various bottles of liquor and went straight for the Jack Daniels.

It was so undeniably “Harry” to leave so much expensive alcohol laying around for house guests to serve themselves. I almost rolled my eyes at it, but instead turned to the fridge to find something to mix it with. It was there, among condiments and fruits, that my eyes fell upon a 12-pack of Diet Dr. Pepper, my drink of choice.

I frowned. When had he acquired a taste for that? He certainly didn’t have one the last time we’d been together.

I decided not to read to far into it and grabbed a can, popping the tab as I shut the fridge door with my foot. Tongue between my lips, I concentrated on pouring it just right into the cup, enough to fill it as close to the brim as possible without the carbination spilling over. It truly was an art.

I took a long drag and smiled to myself. The whiskey-to-Dr. Pepper ratio was perfect. Absently, I pulled open a drawer beneath the kitchen sink and tossed the can into a trash can. It was only after I slid the drawer closed again that I realized I’d just successfully navigated his kitchen without a thought, like I’d been there before.

Feeling slightly less comfortable, I took my cup and walked back into the living room. A small stereo system was playing The Black Keys at a slightly lower pitch than the music playing outside, but it was the same tune. My eyes focused on it, then moved to a record player nearby, followed by the expanse of records and books that ran along the wall beneath the staircase.

Ignoring the ebb and flow of bodies, I found myself weaving through them again to gain access to the bookcases. My curiousity was getting the best of me, and there was nothing like a record collection and a few dusty novels to make me feel more comfortable.

Also, alcohol.

I took a deep drink as I moved up the three small steps that led to a small ledge where I could stand and examine the shelves. For the most part, they seemed to hold the same sort of contents his room always had. Un-returned library books and classics we’d been forced to read in secondary school were intermixed. I found a few that had actually been mine at some point, but I must have left them laying about his room after he left.

Fondly, I reached forward and pulled out a copy of The Night Circus, knowing there was no reason in the world strong enough to make an argument for Harry to ever have read that book. It was elegantly written and hopelessly romantic, nearly to the point of distastefulness, but I’d read it in two days flat, sprawled out on his bed while he worked on a research paper beside me. We’d been fifteen then, and every so often my eyes would leave the page to take in the look of fiery determination on his soft, round face. I had always been attracted to him, but time had done him well as far as the hardening of his features and the sharp jut of his jawline.

With a somewhat sad smile, I put the book back where it belonged and moved on to the rest of them. They were newer, more Harry’s style today. Jack Kerouac and Charles Bukowski novels were intermingled with Chuck Palahniuk and Kurt Vonnegut. On top of a few piles of books were photo frames, taken with his family or the band. There were none from his time before leaving Cheshire, but it wasn’t unexpected.

Taking another large gulp of my drink, I turned to prepare to find Declan. Instead, my eyes locked immediately with a familiar pair of green ones, despite the fact that he stood across the room, engrossed in conversation with a small cluster of men. Our gazes must have connected at the same time, because a look of astonishment passed over his face briefly. A moment later, his polite host persona returned and his attention was back on whoever was talking.

Unphased, I made a move to head into the back yard in search of Declan or Ashley, but I realized he’d disentangled himself from the conversation and was making his way toward me. I tried to put on a brave face and ignore the uneven pattering of my heart in my chest as he approached.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” he said, easily skipping up the steps to where I stood.

He looked handsome in black skinny jeans and a green tee shirt. His eyes were bright, his hair swept casually back, and there was a slight flush in his cheeks. Harry lived for this sort of thing, to entertain and be surrounded by a plehtora of people, and it was reflected in his appearance. I took another drink to distract from my unsteady hand.

“Declan didn’t tell me where we were going,” I answered, my voice coming out surprisingly nonchalant. There was no bitterness to my tone, but Harry dropped his eyes immediately, nodding his head. I knew him well enough to know when he was hurt and hiding it, and instantly felt a pang of regret. I hadn’t meant it in a malicious way, but I realized that’s how he expected anything I directed at him to sound.

“Nice house,” I commented instead, changing the subject.

Harry lifted a beer to his lips, but still didn’t look me in the face. His eyes swept over the room and he shrugged.

“Quite big for my taste, but it’s nice when mum or Gemma visit. Sometimes the band stays and it feels less empty then,” he answered honestly.

“It’s definitely interesting,” I conceded. He turned his attention back to me, brows furrowing.

“How so?”

I bit my lip. It was my turn to artfully avoid my eyes.

“I dunno. It’s somehow undeniably you and not you at the same time. It’s warm and inviting, but it’s big and extravagant. It’s an odd juxtaposition.”

I realized then that my comments may have been out of line. For the past week, I had been denying him any right to bring up the past, but here I stood, analyzing his home to a personality I knew four years prior. He couldn’t possibly be the same person now that he was then, and despite the fact that he kept asserting how much he changed since then, I couldn’t be sure if it was for better or worse. On one hand, it would have been nice to have a Harry who had matured enough to understand the mistake he’d made between us, but on the other, I knew I wouldn’t trade a day with the young heart I’d fallen for in my early teens.

I raised my drink to my lips, trying to gather enough courage to return my attention to him. When I did, he was watching me thoughtfully.

“What?” I asked.

He shook his head, a small surpressed smile forming on his lips. I tried to keep my focus off his dimple when he said simply, “You’re not yelling at me. It’s nice.”

I sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. My eyes fell on my drink, but I didn’t take another sip. Instead, I tried to swallow my pride.

“I don’t like yelling at you, Harry, but you have to understand where I’m coming from.”

Chancing a glance at him, I saw he was nodding. He’d dropped his own stare to his shoes, and I wondered how we must look to the rest of the party; two people standing beside one another talking quietly, but unable to look the other in the eye.

“I don’t think I really got it at first,” he admitted. “I just wanted to explain it to you and you kept shutting me out, and I was getting angrier over it. But then Declan sat me down and he explained the things that you couldn’t, and it made things clearer. I did something awful at a horrible time in your life, and I was too much of a coward to try to ease any of it away. I didn’t know that at the time, but I do now, and I truly am sorry.”

I swallowed thickly, blinking back any of the tears that were beginning to spring into my eyes. Now wasn’t the time to be vulnerable. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be able to let Harry see me that way ever again, but I knew with certainty that I couldn’t just then. So I took another swig of my drink and reached forward to give his arm a reassuring squeeze. I couldn’t be sure if he knew I meant it as a thanks, or if it really conveyed that at all since my hair was obscuring his view of my face, but he had always been good at deciphering those things from me and I could only hope that it was something that hadn’t faded over time. Quietly, I excused myself to the restroom, brushing past him before he could say anything to stop me.

I sensed more than knew that it would be in a small hallway adjunct to the glass wall. Sure enough, when I followed it, it led to a bathroom and another door that I assumed was a spare bedroom.

With the door shut behind me, I leaned against the counter in the dark with my hands on either side of the sink. This was something I needed to let go, but once I did, then what? I didn’t know where I stood with Harry. There were lingering feelings of loss and sadness, and I knew that I’d always be attracted to him. So what then? Friendship? Was that enough for me?

I realized with an ache in my chest that it would have to be. That chapter of my life was over, and I wouldn’t return to it. It held too much pain to keep going there, and while Harry was still a constant reminder of what had happened with my mum and all I had pulled through, I’d have to suck it up.

But I wasn’t quite ready for that.

So I finished off my drink, splashed some cold water on my face, and pulled open the door to make my way back into the party. Luckily when I returned, Harry was no longer standing where I had left him. In fact, he was no where to be seen.

Breathing out a sigh of relief, I headed once more toward the kitchen and made myself another drink. I ignored the sweaty bodies pushing against me as I forced my way through the crowd toward the sliding glass doors that led outside.

There was a group of people in the pool, more lounging around in the chairs around it or dipping their feet in, deep in conversation. My eyes scanned the crowd and finally found both Ashley and Declan perched at the far corner with their legs immersed in the water. I walked over to them and plopped down beside Declan. He seemed surprised for a moment, but upon realizing it was only me, offered me a warm smile and re-positioned himself to better have a conversation with both Ashley and me.

“What are you drinking?” he asked, taking my cup from me so I could pull off my shoes and dip my feet in the water. He sniffed it and frowned. My Jack-to-Diet Dr. Pepper ratio wasn’t quite as perfect as it had been the first time.

“Diet Dr. Pepper and whiskey,” I answered, reaching out for it. Declan instead raised the drink to his lips, cringing at what he was met with.

“Nope,” he said. “That’s straight up whiskey.”

“Stop being dramatic,” I huffed, trying to grab the drink. He held it just out of reach, rolling his eyes.

“Because you’re never dramatic.”

I reached again for the drink, but Declan tipped it over, letting it spill onto the concrete tile. My jaw dropped, indignant.

“That was uncalled for,” I told him, my voice low.

“I know what you’re trying to do, Sawyer, but please not tonight. You’ve had a drink already, can’t you just leave it at that?”

I turned my face away from him, hating how easily he read me. He had probably shown up to the party knowing I’d want to take it further than he would prefer. Again, I’d be babysat all night.

“Declan, why don’t you get me a bottle of water?” Ashley asked.

He nodded, sending her a look before pushing up and drying off his legs with a nearby towel. Wordlessly, he headed back into the house, disappearing in the crowd.

Ashley scooted over to get closer to me, biting on her lip like she wasn’t sure where to start.

“Go ahead,” I told her, throwing my head back as I re-adjusted my upper body to be supported on my arms, outstretched behind me.

“Declan hasn’t told me anything, but I saw you talking to Harry. Is that where all this is coming from?”

I wasn’t really in the mood to talk about it, so I gave her a short nod.

“I can’t imagine what that would be like for you. He’s sort of inescapable, isn’t he?”

“Tell me about it,” I muttered. She smiled sadly.

“I don’t really know what happened, but I do know that Declan is trying really hard with both of you. He’s really worried about you, about how bitter you’re letting this make you and the ways you’re taking it upon yourself to forget. He just wants you to be happy, and maybe he should have told you where we were coming tonight, but I really just think he was trying to give you and Harry an opportunity to smooth things over.”

Everything she said made sense, which is probably why it hurt so much. It was already something I’d concluded on my own, that I was making life difficult for everyone around me, but it wasn’t something I really had control over. How I handled things was how I handled them, and I didn’t know what else to do.

“I’ve just met you, but I can tell you’re being weighed down by this. I care about Declan, which means I care about you, too. Despite how he’s going about it, he means well. Just try to remember that, and keep in mind how it affects him when you’re reaching for another drink.”

I nodded solemnly and she reached over to give my hand a reassuring pat. I looked over to her, my blue eyes scanning her dark brown ones, and mustered up the bravest smile I could. She returned it, a clean white row of teeth grinning back at me.

A moment later, a bottle of water was thrust between us. Ashley leaned backward, startled, and took it from Declan’s outstretched hand. Another bottle materialized in the space between us, and I accepted it before glancing up at Declan. My eyes only landed on him for a moment before I found Harry standing beside him.

I almost choked on the water, and probably would have, if he hadn’t been focused on Ashley. Declan easily slid into the space on the other side of her, giving Harry a small amount of room between Ashley and myself to sit if he chose to accept it. Standing there awkwardly, it was apparent that though he was introducing himself to Ashley, he was debating whether or not it was appropriate to take the seat.

With an uncomfortable sigh, I shifted over a few inches. Harry’s eyes flashed to me for only a moment before he hesitantly sunk down into the space I’d left for him.

Ashley was gushing about how nice it was to meet him and Harry was turning on the charm in return, a quarter-sized dimple prominent in his cheek, just above the jawline. I tried to focus past him to Ashley and Declan, who were listening intently to him as he spoke.

Feeling slightly wedged out of the conversation, I unscrewed the cap of my water and watched a group of twenty-somethings having a go at a game of Chicken in the pool. Further out, there was a group of girls in bikinis with their arms crossed and resting on the edge to talk to whoever was sitting there.

This is what Harry’s life had become, and with a twinge of sadness, it was easy to see why I’d been left behind. I was never the socialite he was; I was moody and easily upset, unable to make small talk with strangers. Harry had always been the opposite, happy to meet new people and constantly mellow. In a way, our differences in personality had been part of what made us click as a couple.

I felt a slight nudge in my shoulder and turned to my right to see Harry watching me. Behind him, Declan and Ashley had disappeared, probably to join a game of beer pong taking place further out in the yard, or maybe to dance in the house. Either way, I had Harry’s full attention again.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked.

I ran a hand through my hair nervously as I tried to come up with a proper response.

“Wishing I was more social, I suppose,” I answered a moment later, surprised by ability to simultaneously lie and tell the truth. It probably worked best that way; Harry always knew when I was lying.

“Nah. It’s overrated,” he answered, reaching for his drink. When he realized he didn’t have one, he frowned and folded his hands on his lap instead. I offered him my water before I could think about what I was doing. He seemed surprised at this peace offering, but accepted with a smile.

After taking a few gulps, he screwed the cap back on and handed it to me before adding, “I always liked that about you, anyway.”

“Liked what?” I asked, frowning.

“How perceptive you are. You might not throw yourself into a conversation or actively try to meet someone new, but I could bring up something I’d discussed with a random guy at a party, and you’d be able to comment on it because you picked up on every word. Or even if you hadn’t, you had figure it out from body language or what other discussions were happening around us. You still paid attention.”

I shrugged noncommittally. It was a compliment, but I didn’t much feel like accepting it. I didn’t really feel like that sort of girl anymore. Instead, I’d taken to glaring at couples making out or completely ignoring the ones playfully dunking each other in the pool.

“You look really beautiful tonight, by the way,” he said a few moments later when it became clear I didn’t have a reply. His voice was soft, sort of contemplative, and I found myself looking over to him before I could remind myself it was a trap.

I held myself there, unable to move beneath his green-eyed gaze. His eyes had always been what really undid me. Between that and the dimples, I was a goner when we’d first met. But looking at me now, he wasn’t smiling. He didn’t have to, because with the look he was giving me, I could feel more than any grin he’d send my way would ever convey.

As if bringing himself back into the moment, he let his gaze fall and cleared his throat. Plastering on a politely interested half-smile he asked, “Plan on breaking any hearts tonight?”

I snorted before I could help myself. His smile turned more genuine. With that being clearer than any verbal answer I could give him, I turned to ask if he planned on doing the same. Lips parted, I drew in a breath only to stop short at the manicured hand that had landed on his right shoulder. He seemed as startled as I was, head whipping around to meet a girl crouching beside him.

In a black maxi skirt and a cami that left far too little to the imagination, I was shocked into silence. Her long, dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail and her striking features made a sense of familiarity wash over me. I felt as if I had seen this girl before, probably selling me a Burberry coat or a pair of Chanel sunglasses from the pages of a magazine.

My mouth began salivating and I felt the immediate urge to vomit, especially when her dark eyes landed on me. Our gaze met for only a moment before she was focused on him again, but it told me everything I needed to know.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you. I thought you said you’d be right back?”

Her voice was sweet and smooth, feminine but without the whining quality some had to it. I hated her immediately.

“Sorry, yeah,” he answered her, obviously caught off-guard. When he turned to look at me, I already had my shoes on and was pushing myself to stand.

“I should go,” I blurted. Harry opened his mouth to protest, but drew short as the girl stepped between us, efficiently blocking his view of me. Without bothering to attempt any sort of proper goodbye, I turned and bolted for the door, anger settling deeper in my bones with every step I took.

As I moved through the living room, I found Dec with Ashley on his lap, chatting to another group of people nearby on an arrangment of sofas and chairs. Not wanting to ruin anything, I continued my journey to the front door and out onto the front lawn. Calculating my best route of escape, I realized leaving Harry’s house would be much simpler than entering it. There was a simple button beside it that didn’t require a code or key of any sort, and I was in the process of reaching for it when I heard my name.

Harry was making his way toward me across the lawn, slightly out of breath.

“Jesus, you move fast,” he said, his hand pushing his hair back to prevent it from flopping down in his face as he caught up with me.

“What do you want?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

“You shouldn’t go. Olivia is...” he trailed off, trying to figure out what he wanted to say, and finally settled on, “friend.”

“A friend you’re sleeping with?” I clarified.

When he didn’t immediately jump to defend his honor, I turned and pushed the button to open the door.

“It’s fine, Harry. Really. You don’t need to defend me to your sexual partners.”

“What do you want me to do, Sawyer?” he asked, and I frowned. It wasn’t the first time he’d asked me this question.

“Nothing,” I answered, turning to look at him. “We’re good. Really. You and I are fine.”

He didn’t believe me. That much was apparent in the steady gaze he gave me, but I didn’t dwell on it. Instead, I turned to go, stepping out onto the sidewalk.

“At least let me drive you home,” he said, following me out.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re hosting a party.”

“I have insurance.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“How are you getting home without Declan?”

“I’ll call a cab.”

“Or I can drive you.”

“Harry, don’t,” I snapped, turning to face him. He stopped in his tracks, brows furrowed as he scanned over my face. Whatever he read there must have been enough, because he didn’t say another word before turning and heading back in the direction of his house. When he had disappeared behind the gate, I let out an unsteady breath and told myself to get it together.