Hearts Like Ours

When Harry reached the fresh outside air, Charlie was already hailing a taxi. He ran a hand through his hair before joining her on the sidewalk, a cab pulling up to the curb. As she reached for the door, he rested a hand softly on her shoulder. She paused to look over at him.

“Are you okay?” he asked, eyes prodding her for a response.

“Yeah, of course,” she replied with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders.

He wasn’t buying it. Something in his face must have portrayed his thoughts because Charlie let out a soft chuckle, fixing her face into a smile.

“Really, I am. It was really amazing of you to bring me and I had a great time,” she assured him. A heartbeat later, when he still hadn’t moved, she raised an eyebrow at him. “Get your ass in the cab, Styles.”

Harry rolled his eyes, but complied. She slid in after him, pulling the door shut and giving the driver her address. They were headed back toward the city a few minutes later.

Charlie let her head fall against the window, shutting her eyes. There was a light sheen of persperation on her forehead and she still seemed somewhat breathless.

“Hot?” he asked.

“Hmm?” she mumbled in reply, turning her eyes to him lazily. He cracked a smile.

“You look warm. Take your jacket off,” he clarified. She looked at him like he was crazy.

“I’m cold-blooded. I’m fine.”

“You look like you’re about to die of heat stroke.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, Styles.”

“I like when you call me by my last name,” he commented. She started to laugh.

“You’re something else, you know that?” Charlie teased, throwing his own words back at him. It was all he could do to grin unflinchingly back at her. She reached over to give his shoulder a light shove, but he caught her wrist before she could do anything. In a huff, she tried to free it, but he kept it in place.

“Let me go,” she whined.

“When you promise to play nice,” he replied easily.

“I will do nothing of the sort.”

“This is going to be a long ride for you, then.”

She frowned, but kept her mouth shut. Harry chewed mindlessly on his cheek, his eyes flickering from her face to her wrist and back, wondering what her next move was. When she resigned to scoot closer, allowing her arm to fall into a more comfortable position, he shook his head. Keeping a firm grip on her in an attempt to show he was unwavering, the word “stubborn” fell from his lips. Charlie made no response to this but to lean her head on him sleepily. It seemed the beer had done little more than make her tired.

It was the releasing of her arm that caused her to sit up with a start. They’d reached her apartment building and Harry pulled out his wallet to pay.

“You don’t always have to do that, you know,” she said, stifling a yawn as she stretched. Scooting over, she reached for her door and pushed it open, trying to regain a sense of equilibrium in her dreamy state.

“Won’t have to put up with it much longer,” he mumbled in reply. Her face fell and he immediately regretted it, standing beside her on the sidewalk as the cab sped away in the distance.

Harry lifted a hand to his lip, something he did as a nervous habit. Charlie watched with mild interest, refusing to be the first to break the silence. Instead, she turned on her heel and began digging through her purse for her keys. When Harry didn’t follow, she turned to him with a questioning look on her face.

“You seem tired. I can just head back to the hotel if you want to sleep...”

“No.”

She hadn’t let him fully finish his sentence before interjecting. His first instinct was to smile, but he was afraid she was simply being polite.

“Really, Charlie. You look proper knackered.”

“I’m not really sure what that means, but I’m not done having fun tonight and neither are you.”

“You’re going to force me to have fun?”

“If you keep this up, yes. I’ll perk right up again after I get a few shots of whiskey in me.”

“And you’re sure that’s a good idea?”

“Why?”

He’d asked for a multitude of reasons. The first was that he knew Charlie well, knew her better than she probably ever wanted him to. From reading her journal, he knew she wasn’t a big drinker, only in times of heartache as far as he could recall. He didn’t want her to feel as if it was something she needed to do, or to get some twisted idea in her head that it was something he wanted. He had been truthful when telling her parents that he didn’t need alcohol for a good time, it was just in his nature.

The second reason was that he himself was tentative to drink with her. When he had alcohol in his veins, there was no telling what he was going to say or do. He wondered the same of her.

Still, the way she stood there in the light beneath the lamppost, her blue eyes watching him intently, enticing him to follow her. He’d never felt so torn between what he should do and what he could do.

He should go back to the hotel, get a good night’s rest, and be at the airport early. He could follow her upstairs, have a shot or two, and spend the rest of his evening in the presence of the girl who had lured him across the pond in the first place.

“I just want to make sure you don’t feel pressured to do anything. If you don’t want to drink, you don’t have to. If you don’t want me to stay any longer and are only asking me out of obligation, it’s fine. I can go.”

Charlie frowned, finally locating her keys and pulling them from her bag. Without the task of digging through her purse, her arms fell limply at her sides.

“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I like being around you as much as you like being around me?” she asked.

Harry bit down on his lip. He sincerely doubted that could be true, but he wasn’t about to argue over who liked who more. Instead, he let out a sigh and stepped in her direction. Her lips didn’t move, but her eyes lit up. He’d make the mistake of following her again if it meant she’d have that reaction every time.

Charlie pushed open the door and led them to the elevator. He watched her as she pushed the button to her floor before leaning back against the rail that spanned the perimeter of the room. A moment later, she was leading them forward again, out into the hallway and to her doorway.

She blindly felt around for the light, flicking it on as she crossed over the threshold. She slipped out of her shoes easily, grabbing onto Harry’s arm to hold her balance. He let her do so without comment. A moment later, she smiled a thanks at him before heading into her apartment, slinging her purse down as she went. Harry followed behind, taking a seat on the couch beside her as she searched her Spotify account for something to listen to. A few minutes later, she settled on a playlist and hit shuffle.

“I’m going to change,” she announced, standing up. “And then we’re going to take shots.”

Her eyes searched him as if daring him to argue. Harry chuckled at this, throwing his arms up in mock surrender. She smirked triumphantly.

“Good.”

And then she was gone.

Harry kicked off his shoes, setting them gently beneath the coffee table before him. In the bathroom, he could hear Charlie rummaging around, pulling off various articles of clothing before pulling on others. He tiredly ran a hand over his face as his phone vibrated in his pocket.

The door to the bathroom swung open as he pulled the phone from his jeans. Without looking, he knew Charlie was headed into the kitchen to grab two shot glasses and a bottle of whiskey. In the meantime, he opened his phone to read a text recieved from Louis.

It’s your last night. Make it count.

It was about as sentimental as Louis would get with it. His personality leaned more toward the type to poke fun than encourage. Harry appreciated the gesture and typed back a quick response just as Charlie re-entered the room. He glanced up at her.

She wore the same cotton racerback tank as she had to the concert, but now with a pair of black mesh shorts. She had gathered her hair together over her right shoulder where it fell in a curtain of waves. Harry swallowed thickly, watching as she threw down the shot glasses on the coffee table, the whiskey bottle in her right hand.

Charlie crossed her legs beneath her, opting to sit on the floor to pour the alcohol, her tongue held between her teeth in concentration. Harry was reminded of his days in secondary school measuring chemicals into flasks for chemistry class. After she achieved what she deemed the perfect amount, she set the bottle back down and lifted a glass to hand to him. He took it silently, watching her for his que. She smiled lazily at him.

“To your last night in Seattle,” she said, holding her shot glass forward to clink against his. A moment later, the alcohol was passing her mouth. Harry hesitated a moment before doing the same, grimacing as it slid down his throat.

“I didn’t even think about chasers. Did you want one?” she asked at his expression. Harry narrowed his eyes at her, positive she was making fun. Charlie cracked a grin and he reached forward for the bottle, pouring them another round before she could say anything.

“You don’t mess around,” she laughed, watching with amusement as he threw it back, holding back his disgust this time. Whiskey wasn’t really his forte.

“I have to hit that buzz before I fall asleep on your couch,” he responded, eyeing her drink to indicate it was her turn. She rolled her eyes, but complied. He let her swallow it before he spoke again.

“What were you asking me earlier? Before that band started?”

She bit down on her lip, tilting her head to one side as she considered his words and how to best answer them. Her eyes glanced up to his and she started to chuckle lightly.

“It wasn’t anything important, just something I was curious about.”

“What was it?”

“It really doesn’t matter.”

“Charlie, you can ask me anything.”

She sighed in defeat as she fell backward onto her rug, bringing her arms up to shield her eyes. He wasn’t sure what exactly about watching her do that was so sexy, but he couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. There was something about watching her get flustered that he loved.

“Okay,” she declared, propping herself up on her elbows to look at him. “But I don’t want you to read anything into this. I’m asking because I was just wondering.”

“Charlie,” he hummed, an attempt to coax it out of her. She groaned, rolling her eyes at him.

“Just with who you are and what you do, I was curious as to why you’re single.”

Harry let his back fall against the cushions of the couch. A pillow poked him uncomfortably in the ribs, so he moved it to sit on his stomach, clutching it there before letting his eyes fall shut. He’d taken too many shots at once and he felt vaguely dizzy as it hit him like a truck.

“That wasn’t meant to be offensive, if it sounded like it was,” Charlie muttered a moment later when he made no response.

“It didn’t. I’m just trying to figure out how to best answer it.”

Charlie pushed herself up from the floor, carefully navigating her way to the couch to sit down beside him. His eyes softly fluttered open, green irises pointing in her direction. She had her body turned toward him, her right arm propped up on the couch to rest against her head, fingers woven in her hair as she waited for him to respond. Looking the way she did then, Harry decided it was probably best to let his eyes fall closed again in order to formulate a proper response.

“It’s not really as simple as it might seem to you. A lot of people see it as all these girls fawning over me or whatever, but it’s never really like that. I mean it is, but they don’t know me. It’s not like I have time to really sit down and meet a girl with where I am in my life right now. It’s just easier to focus on work. And even if I did find someone, it would just feel selfish.”

“What do you mean?”

Harry sighed, opening his eyes to look at her. She was still in the same position as before, listening to him intently.

“It’s not right to ask someone to wait on me like that. I can’t always be there when I need to be.”

Charlie tilted her head to one side in consideration.

“Zayn and Louis make it work,” she pointed out.

“It tears them up.”

“But they still do it. That sort of happiness with someone is worth it to them.”

Harry chuckled.

“You haven’t even met them,” he accused.

Charlie shrugged as she reached for the whiskey bottle again. Harry held his and up to indicate he didn’t want any more and she lifted a brow but made no comment. After letting the alcohol slide down her throat, she turned back to him.

“Let’s play a game,” she declared. Harry narrowed his eyes at her skeptically. If the alcohol had him in a slight buzz, he wondered where Charlie was at.

“What game?”

“We ask each other questions and we can choose to answer it truthfully, or take a shot.”

“I have an early flight tomorrow, and you don’t need any more alcohol in your system.”

“I’m fine,” she rolled her eyes. “And if you’re worried about your flight, you should just answer my questions then.”

There was a mischevious glint in her eye that was both frightening and exilerating. He sighed, eyeing the whiskey bottle suspiciously.

“You can go first,” she sang. Harry’s eyes flickered back to where she was sitting, drumming her fingers on her legs as she waited for him to decide.

“What’s your favorite color?”

Charlie frowned.

“That’s not a question.”

“Technically, it is.”

“You’re asking boring stuff in order to keep me from drinking.”

“It’s not boring stuff to me.”

“Orange. But I’m taking a shot since you refuse to ask me anything good.”

Harry groaned, watching her reach for the bottle again. She only smiled at him as she poured the whiskey. He waited for her question. After a moment of consideration, she smiled, her gaze narrowing. The look frightened him.

“How many of your celebrity relationships have been real?”

Harry considered taking the shot, not only just to humor her, but because he wasn’t sure if he felt like responding. Sensing this, Charlie grinned wider.

“Actual relationships, two,” He told her.

“Which ones?”

“It’s my turn.”

Charlie huffed in aggrivation. She was playing with the neck of the bottle with her hands, as if she couldn’t decide how she wanted to hold it. Her cheeks were flushing scarlet and he knew he would have to cut her off if she kept her pace up. Still, he liked what was happening in a way. They were really talking, a last chance to do so before he left.

“Why did you decide to let me in?”

Her eyes flashed up to him at his unexpected question. She was drunk, heavier than tipsy but lighter than being totally wrecked. Even so, the serious tone of the question sank through the haze. Charlie gulped before answering.

“I guess it wasn’t something I consciously did. The more time I spent with you, the more I got to know your real character. I may not understand what brought you over here in the first place, whether it was curiousity or something else, but I realized you meant well regardless.”

Harry nodded, relaxing into his seat. Charlie wasted no time in asking her next question.

“What do your tattoos mean?”

He laughed, glancing over at his arm.

“Which ones are you curious about?”

Without a word, she reached forward. Tentatively, her fingers brushed the hem of his shirt. She looked up to meet his eyes as if confirming that this was okay. When he didn’t stop her, she proceeded to lift it enough to reveal the butterfly on his abdomen.

“I like the idea of transformation,” he explained.

“And this?”

Her fingers fell from his shirt to graze his wrist, where there was an anchor. He shrugged nonchalantly.

“To keep me grounded.”

Her fingers traced up his arm to the rose, then landed on the ship. He hoped she didn’t notice the goosebumps her fingertips left in their wake.

“The rose is to remind me of imperfection, even the most beautiful things have them. In this case, it’s the thorn. The ship is something that reminds me of home. I guess I like the idea of being able to sail back.”

Charlie nodded as he spoke, soaking in his words. Her hands moved up to his collar bones, lightly touching the birds there. With one hand on each side of him, she locked his eyes. Harry froze beneath her touch as she slowly moved her hands up to his shoulders.

Almost unconsciously, his hand moved to her neck, pulling her into him. She didn’t protest; she was already gravitating there.

Her lips brushed his softly, as if testing the waters. He couldn’t help but pull her down to him, desperate to taste her. She gave into him, Harry conscious of every move he made with her there against him.

The kiss was slow at first, building with the realization that each of them wanted this. Charlie swung a leg over his lap to get a better vantage point and the hand that wasn’t locked at the base of her neck moved to her waist, anchoring her there.

Harry could taste the whiskey on her mouth, mixed with the mint taste of the gum she was chewing earlier and the sugary taste from her lip gloss. His fingers softly brushed the skin beneath her shirt on her lower back, a chill running through her body as he did so. She reacted by kissing him harder.

As abruptly as it had begun, it ended. Charlie was breaking away, pushing up from her straddled position to stand. Harry sucked in a breath, both from lack of oxygen and from the surprise of her sudden disappearance. His lips were still throbbing from the contact as his eyes searched her face.

Charlie had a hand on her mouth her eyes focused on the floor. She was out of breath and slightly tremoring. Harry sat up.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“You should go.”

His face fell, watching as she rubbed her thumb across her lower lip. She was shaking her head to herself in apparent disbelief at what had just occurred.

“Charlie...” he started, but he cut himself short as her eyes flashed to his. There were pools of tears welling up in them and he froze in place.

She immediately turned and bolted toward the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. Harry, dumbfounded, ran a hand over his face before standing to follow her.

“Charlie, what did I do?” he asked, knocking softly on the door. He couldn’t hear her on the other side, but he felt positive she was crying. There was no other reason she would have left the way she had.

“I just don’t know what we’re doing and I’m drunk,” came her response, stifled through the door.

“Open up,” he requested.

She made no response but to sniffle. Harry sighed, putting his arm on the wall and leaning his head against it. He couldn’t be sure if what was about to leave his mouth was from the alcohol or a conscious decision he was making, but he didn’t allow that to stop him from speaking.

“I really like you, Charlie. I fell for you before I even came here. I thought I knew everything about you, who you are and what you love, but I realized that that’s not true. Every day you do something that surprises me and I learn something new, and I like that feeling. I like the way I feel when I’m around you because you see me differently than anyone else ever has.”

Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he spoke. He felt lightheaded and dizzy, though he couldn’t put a finger on what it was from. It could have been the alcohol, his lack of oxygen, or the words that were falling from his lips, but he would bet money on it being any combination of the three.

As the silence stretched on, Harry clenched his eyes shut. His hands were shaking and all he wanted was for her to just let him in. She only needed to give him the opportunity to fix whatever needed fixing.

“Harry?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing.”

He let out a shaky sigh, his head leaning against the cool wood of the doorframe.

“What can I do?” he asked.

“Can you leave?”

Biting down on his lip, he sucked in a deep breath. An overwhelming sadness was overcoming him, and he pushed up from the door, slipping on his shoes before heading out the door. Quietly shutting it behind him, he shoved his hands in his pockets and made his way to the stairwell, wondering what on earth he was going to do now.