Crooked Heart

The relief Fiona felt when her shift was over was complete, and she very nearly stepped out into the pelting rain/hail/snow disaster of a weather situation just to get the cherry slush she’d spilled on herself earlier out of her polo. It wasn’t that she was particularly attached to the boxy blue material, but more that she couldn’t remember where she’d left her spare one and really didn’t want to go to work with a massive red stain on her front.

Working at a cinema wasn’t always horrible. But on weekends, when a big movie had just opened, it was. The sooner Fiona could find something better (or at least be able to qualify for it) she would, but for the time being, she was stuck with impatient customers and the nauseating smell of popcorn. It was quite ironic, really, how much she’d loved popcorn before she started working there.

She made sure her jacket was on properly and put up her hood, eyes narrowed at the road through the glass doors. There were other employees leaving at the same time, the janitors waiting for them to vacate so they could start cleaning the lobby. Fiona glared at the weather, and was about to walk outside when her mobile beeped loudly.

Are you at work?

If you’re at work I can give you a lift

I’m nearby

So it wouldn’t be out of the way really

Fiona rolled her eyes. Apparently Harry’s newly acquired rambling trait had begun to manifest itself in text form.

just finished

Won’t be a mo

I’ll park next to something easily identifiable

I know what your car looks like Harry

...

I had to wait to reply because I was driving

She rolled her eyes again.

I’m to the left of the cinema behind a red Range Rover

Why would somebody want a red Range Rover?

That just doesn’t make sense.

Fiona put away her mobile and went outside before Harry could send any more pointless texts and turned left. She saw the Range Rover, and it did look very stupid, then she laid eyes on Harry through the front window of his car and saw that he was still texting. She climbed into the passenger’s seat and was about to dump her bag in the back when she saw the massive duffle bag there, taking up most of the backseat.

“What’s that?”

Harry, who’d put away his phone as soon as she slammed the door shut, glanced back. “Stuff from work. Have to wash my uniform. By the way, could I borrow some laundry detergent?”

“Borrow Niall’s.”

“But yours smells nicer.”

Fiona dropped her bag in between her feet, looking sideways at Harry with her eyebrows raised. She didn’t have to ask how he knew what her detergent smelled like. “Use Niall’s.”

“But—”

“Harry.”

“Fine.”

They drove in stony silence all the way back to the flat. Fiona considered telling him about her shift, or asking how he got bad stains out of his work clothes, or any number of things that weren’t silence. The worst part was that he didn’t even look uncomfortable. Perhaps he enjoyed her squirming, a prospect Fiona did not enjoy, because if Harry thought she needed to be uncomfortable to the point of screaming then she’d probably end up doing just that.

He parked across the street, killed the engine, and unbuckled his seatbelt. Before he opened the door there was a chance for her to say something, and she took it.

“Harry,” she said, staring pointedly forward so she wouldn’t catch a glimpse of his expression. “Are we all right?”

There was a pause. “You mean after—?”

“Obviously.”

“I mean… yeah. We’re fine.”

But the way he’d been acting over the past month — barely spending time at the flat, frowning when she said something nice or supportive — suggested otherwise. “Just cos I’ve barely seen you except when we go on our runs.”

The corner of his mouth twitched when she said ‘our’ but he didn’t smile properly. “I’ve been spending more time with you and Niall than my actual roommates. After the trip to London, I realized how much I missed living with them.”

Fiona hummed, not wanting to argue his point but not really believing him either. She couldn’t help but feel like he was upset with her for acting the way she had and choosing to pretend like the kiss had never happened. A flash of curiosity had taken over her that night, and she wasn’t going to let it happen again.

Fiona and Harry found Niall sprawled out on the sofa eating crisps and watching a political program on the BBC. While Harry went about chastising him for eating lying down on the sofa that Harry slept on — ‘There will be crumbs, Niall! What were you thinking!’ — Fiona retreated back to her bedroom and shed her coat, turning toward her closet to examine the massive red stain in the mirrored doors.

With a frown, she tugged off the material, suddenly relieved that she hadn’t worn a cami underneath because her skin was sticky and it definitely would’ve been ruined. She grabbed a t-shirt but didn’t put it on, and crept out of her room.

Before she could sneak into the bathroom unnoticed, Niall appeared at the other end of the corridor. “Woah, Fiona!” he exclaimed, no doubt getting Harry’s attention. “I’d like to say this is the first time I’ve seen you without a top on, but that would be lying.”

“WHAT?” Harry shouted, and there was a thud before he showed up at Niall’s shoulder, his hair a mess and rubbing his arm. Fiona had already lifted her t-shirt, shielding her mostly-bare torso from view. “There is a story here that I’ve never heard.”

“Is that a new bra?” Niall asked. “Speaking as a purely objective outside party, it’s very nice and makes your—”

“Stop talking.”

“I want to know what happened,” Harry said. “When was it? Where was I?”

“It’s happened twice, mate,” Niall said.

Fiona groaned and slammed the bathroom door shut behind her.

+++

“Oi, Liam!”

He was stood with a few of his friends that Fiona didn’t like, but her lighter was out of fluid and he was the first person she spotted upon coming out of class. Placing her cigarette back between her lips, she met him a few paces away from the group of grinning, low-slung jeans wearing boys he’d been talking to.

Fiona had no idea where she stood with Liam. After their fight at the party — or rather, his disappointed, angry ranting — she’d only seen him once, leaving an exam hall. But if he'd come over, he'd either forgiven her or he was just being polite. By the way he was frowning, Fiona suspected the latter. "Hi," she said, when he stopped in front of her.

It was freezing out and he only had on a pea coat and a thin scarf. But Liam wore leather jackets in the rain, so she was used to seeing him dressed inappropriately for the weather. "Hey."

"How, uh, how've you been?"

"Fine."

Fiona hated that word.

"Listen, Liam, I-"

“Are you doing that thing from that movie?” he interrupted, eyeing the unlit cigarette.

“What?”

“You know, the one all the girls like. With the cancer patients or something?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Liam,” Fiona groaned.

He raised his eyebrows. "Shouldn't you be nice to me after what happened?"

"You mean me lying in order to get you to stop asking me out," she summarized, abandoning the niceness altogether.

"That's one way of putting it," he said. "You know I'm more frustrated that you didn't tell me you'd lied after and kept letting me think you were, like, y'know."

"A lesbian?"

"Yeah."

"If I say sorry, are we friends again?" she asked hopefully.

Liam considered this. "You aren't a...?"

"Lesbian?"

"Yeah."

"No. But I do like girls."

"Okay," he nodded. "Boys too, then?"

"Sometimes."

Liam chuckled. "Okay. After you apologize, I'll consider being your friend again."

She took a breath. “I'm terribly sorry for lying to you and then not telling you I lied to you. I would like us to be friends because you’re actually a very nice person and I don’t hate you.”

“That was better than I thought it would be.”

“Excellent,” Fiona said, and they shared a smile. “Now, can I borrow your lighter?”

“Sure,” he said, retrieving it from his coat pocket. Fiona quickly lit up and passed the lighter back, taking a long drag. She hadn’t had a cigarette all morning, and up until a particularly annoying lecture, she hadn’t wanted one.

“I’ve got to go meet Allison, but I’ll see you, yeah?”

Liam smiled, returning her wave as she headed in the direction of the off-campus Starbucks where Allison worked. It felt like a longer walk because of the cold, and after finishing her cigarette Fiona wrapped her scarf up to her nose and stuck her hands in her pockets. According to a text she’d received during class, Allison’s break was due to start any minute. She and Fiona hadn’t seen much of each other between exams and classes starting and Allison apparently avoiding Niall, aside from their Wednesday lunches, which always went forward (luckily neither of them had exams scheduled that day in January) as planned.

It was nice to know that the damage she’d caused with Liam wasn’t permanent. Having someone in her course that she could talk to was nice, and she had found that he was actually a good study partner when he didn’t show up hungover.

Fiona’s marginally brightened spirits were stamped out when she found Allison waiting for her outside Starbucks looking distressed. Ever since New Years and what had happened with Niall, Allison hadn’t been her usual chipper self (neither had Niall). Instead, she was anxious and self-conscious, and it made Fiona sad to see her best friend this way. She wanted to help, but she didn’t know how. And the questions both of them kept asking drove her up the wall, despite her efforts to be cooperative.

“Oh, good,” Allison said, when she spotted Fiona. “I really want chips.”

“Okay.”

They headed for the place down the street, the combination of the weather, traffic, and their hoods being up making it difficult to talk. But once they were safely inside the warm, greasy chip shop, Allison wouldn’t keep her mouth shut.

“I should probably be over it by now because it really wasn’t even anything to get in such a state about, but I just can’t stop thinking about it and what an idiot I must have seemed like to him. You’re probably so tired of hearing this…” she went on, and Fiona kept one of her ears at attention in case Allison said something she hadn’t heard before. They got closer to the counter and Fiona considered getting some chips for herself, but decided against it. She had Harry’s voice in her head saying how bad they were for her, along with smoking, and how she needed to eat more yogurt and leafy greens.

“Has he mentioned me at all?”

“Sorry, what?”

“Were you listening to me just now?”

Fiona thought about lying, then decided against it. “No.”

“I asked if Niall has mentioned me.”

“Once or twice,” Fiona said, though the number was really in the double digits.

Allison ordered her chips, and they found a dingy table at the back. “Do you think he’s still thinking about it?”

“I expect he is.”

“In a bad way or a good way?”

“In a confused way.”

Allison looked worried. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means he’s confused,” Fiona answered.

“Do you think you could tell him that—”

“No.”

“You didn’t even hear what I was going to say.”

Fiona folded her arms over her chest. “I refuse to be a messenger in this scenario. You two are both adults, you can talk to each other like adults.”

“What am I supposed to say to him, though?” Allison asked, leaning her chin on her palm. “‘Oh, hey Niall, sorry for running out on you like that. But you see, the thing is that I’m a virgin and you’ve had sex with all the girls at uni and that’s kind of intimidating and freaks me the fuck out.’”

Fiona raised her eyebrows. “Sounds fine to me.”

“God,” the other girl lamented, dropping her forehead to the table. The lady called her order out a moment later, and Allison was being unresponsive so Fiona went to grab it.

“You know, he thinks he’s done something wrong,” she said, placing the plate in front of her friend. Allison promptly doused it in malt vinegar, making Fiona grimace. Allison popped a chip in her mouth and looked at Fiona curiously. “He doesn’t think you’re weird or anything. I’m sure if you said you just had a bit of a panic and had to leave everything will be fine. Blame the alcohol, he’ll understand.”

Staring at a chip like it was the answer to everything, Allison considered this. “You think so?”

“He wants to know that you’re all right.”

Allison smiled dreamily, though what Fiona had told her about Niall was really only the reaction of a decent person. “Isn’t he lovely?”

“Sure, he’s a real winner.”

After staring into space and probably thinking about Niall for a few minutes, Allison snapped back to attention. “You know, we’ve spent so much time talking about how my New Years went that I don’t think you’ve actually told me anything about yours.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” Fiona shrugged.

“That can’t be true.”

“It is. I had a very dull, uneventful night.”

Keeping her expression neutral, Allison waved a chip around. “Aside from when you danced with Harry.”

Fiona narrowed her eyes at the smirk on Allison’s face, wondering how long she’d been holding that secret for. “How do you know about that?”

“Zayn told me.”

“Since when do you talk to Zayn?”

“Oh, I talk to him all the time,” Allison said. “He comes in for coffee at least four times a week and we have a nice little chat.”

Fiona didn’t even want to think about what else Zayn had told her. She had a sneaking suspicion that Zayn knew much more than he let on, probably because he seemed to be the one that everyone told their secrets to.

“So? Are you going to tell me what happened with Harry?”

“There was another guy being a dick and Harry happened to walk past so I grabbed him to get away from the other guy.”

“That’s it?”

It wasn’t. “That’s it.”

“So, when he came and found you while you were outside with Zayn, nothing happened then either?”

Fiona let out a slow breath. Again, she had the opportunity to lie. But she’d been doing it for too long, and Allison was her best mate, and Fiona didn’t want to keep feeling guilty and hypocritical. “Fine. I might have kissed him.”

“You what?”

“It was only a little kiss,” she said, and Allison narrowed her eyes. “At first.”

“Oh my god, Fiona, it’s almost February and you’re telling me this <i>now?</i>”

She sat back in her chair, purposefully not looking at Allison. “I thought you heard all about it from Zayn.”

“I didn’t know you’d snogged Harry!” Allison exclaimed, and the man at the table next to them looked over in irritation. “My entire world just exploded.”

“Your world?” Fiona asked, one eyebrow quirked.

“Yes! I know you’re not too particular about who you kiss, Fiona, but I never thought you’d go for Harry.”

“He’s not so bad.”

“Wait a second,” Allison, excited now, leaned forward. “Do you fancy him?”

Fiona scowled. “Fuck no,” she said, as Allison smirked and ate another chip. “I don’t think I’ve ever fancied anyone.”

“What about Wren?”

“Maybe, I dunno.”

“How can you be with someone and not fancy them, though?”

“I guess I did, after we’d been together for a while. But at the beginning it was about physical chemistry and how much we both liked making fun of other people.”

“That doesn’t sound like a solid basis for a relationship to me.”

Fiona shrugged, stealing one of Allison’s chips that wasn’t totally soaked with vinegar. “Well, we did break up. So I guess it wasn’t.”

“Oh, Fiona, I didn’t mean it like—”

“It’s fine.”

“Should we talk about something else now?”

“God yes. I’m sick of Harry bloody Styles.”

+++

It was just a little after three when Fiona put down her book and decided to go out for a cigarette. She tugged on a pair of joggers and her coat, made sure her pack and lighter were in the pocket, and slipped out into the corridor. Harry was spending a rare night at the flat, due to some event at the hotel the next day that he had to be in very early for, and was snoring softly from the sofa. Trying to be as quiet as possible, Fiona crept through the large room and out onto the balcony, shutting the door gently behind her.

Only after she’d lit her smoke and taken a drag did Harry come outside. Fiona frowned at him from her chair, particularly at his lack of coat (he did have on a jumper, but it wasn’t enough), and watched him wander over to the railing and look down at the lampposts below.

“I was trying not to wake you up.”

“I know,” he said.

They fell into silence, and Fiona didn’t know what to do. He was hunched over and obviously cold, but didn’t seem too interested in going back inside either. It had been nearly a month since they’d kissed and she didn’t feel like any positive progress had been made, in spite of her efforts toward establishing a proper friendship. There was something missing.

She realized it was a conversation, one they’d skirted around but had yet to have. It was rare that they’d been alone and the situation was right, since their runs were more filled with her giving him tips and him failing to follow them and they’d only been alone together once or twice in other circumstances.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted, and it wasn’t about waking him up. Harry didn’t seem to realize that at first, and glanced back at her in confusion. “For New Year’s.”

Realization dawned on him, but he didn’t have the accepting response she was hoping for. Instead he frowned. “Look, Fiona, I’ll be your friend, but I don’t want your apology.”

Fiona dropped her cigarette onto the ashtray, sitting up straighter in her chair. “That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

“And of course as long as you’re all right, that’s what really matters.”

“That isn’t what I meant.”

“Yes it is.”

“No it isn’t!” she exclaimed. Harry blinked at her, his eyes going wide. “I don’t want some stupid kiss to ruin anything. You… you matter to me, all right? I’m already miserable, I don’t want you to be like this too.”

The look on his face made her sad, because it was filled with determination. “Have you ever thought about why you’re miserable? Because I don’t think it is what you think it is.”

Fiona thought about his journal, and how she’d called herself crooked and he’d disagreed. Not to her face, of course, but they hadn’t been in the same place as they were now. “I think you have too much faith in me.”

“I think you have too little faith in yourself.”

“Is that why you try to get me angry? So I’ll crack and admit something?”

“You have before.” He didn’t look too happy about it. “And I don’t try to get you angry, Fiona. You’re already angry. I’m just good at getting you to show it.”

She couldn’t argue with him there, and settled for glaring at the building across the way instead. “We haven’t been fighting as much as we used to.”

He had the audacity to smile cheekily, completely dissolving the tense, serious air on the balcony. For once she was relieved that he was being silly, because she couldn’t take it when he was upset. She wasn’t as resilient as he was. “I think it’s because you like me now. Realized what a charmer I am.”

“That’s ridiculous,” she said. It was why they argued less, but she wasn’t going to tell him that.

“But you’re still angry,” he said. “And now I don’t know what to do. I thought that maybe…”

“What?”

Harry took a step toward the door, shaking his head. “Nevermind. Do you want some tea?”

It was obvious he was trying to change the subject, and since it was three in the morning and he had to be up in a few hours, she let him. Harry went inside and made her a brew, holding it carefully as he maneuvered back out onto the balcony. While he was gone, Fiona had lit herself another cigarette, and put it between her lips to take the mug from him.

Harry resumed his position leaning with his back to the railing, his eyes fixed on her. Fiona recognized the look, and tried not to preemptively roll her eyes. “Why do you smoke?”

She sighed, smoke rolling out out of her mouth. “How many times have we had this conversation?”

“I don’t think we’ve ever had it,” Harry said, folding his arms over his chest.

“You always tell me I shouldn’t smoke.”

“And yet here you are, still smoking,” he pointed out. “You know it’s bad for you, and you still do it.”

“There are doctors who smoke, Harry.” She didn’t have a proper reason for him. It wasn’t something she actively thought about, just something she did when the need struck.

“I don’t care about them.”

“It calms me down,” she said, because it was the closest thing to the truth she could think of.

But he even had an argument for that. “You told me running helped you clear your head.”

Fiona, who hadn’t been able to sleep for thirty six hours, thought she might be able to after such an exasperating conversation with Harry. “Well I can’t go running after a stressful class when I’ve got to be at my next one ten minutes later, can I? Or at three in the morning, or on my break at work.”

“I’m sure if you tried some deep breathing—“

“You’re agitating me right now, making me want to smoke.”

“So it’s me that’s making you want a cigarette?”

“Right now, yeah.”

He nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. “How about this: next time you want a cigarette, think about why. Then ask yourself if it’s worth it.”

She could have lifted the cigarette in her hand to her lips just to annoy him, but she hesitated. When she thought about what he said, she realized that she’d never really thought about her habit like that. It was just a habit, something she did when the desire struck, which she realized was the reasoning for a lot of the things she did. Like kissing Harry.

Instead, she flicked the cigarette into the ashtray and gulped down some tea, trying not to snap at the smug look on Harry’s face.

“I’m gonna head in.”

“Go ahead. I don’t want you out here anyway.”

He grinned when he looked at her, with her pout and her angry eyes and her stubborn chin, and grasped the doorknob. “Night, Fee.”

“Piss off already.”

+++

The night before, when Harry stumbled in late after a meeting at work, Niall made all three of them stay up in order to wish Harry a happy birthday the second the clock struck midnight. Fiona sat on the green sofa with her knees pulled up to her chest, knowing she wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway and still annoyed at being kept up, watching Niall tell Harry how his party the next day was going to be legend even though it was on a Monday.

At midnight, Niall had tackled Harry and congratulated him on turning twenty-one, and Harry had grinned at Fiona and she let herself smile back, even if just a smile was dangerous these days.

After a measly two hours of sleep, Fiona got up early and went to class. It seemed like the whole campus was running on just as little rest as she was; even the buildings looked stressed and tired. She hadn’t made herself tea that morning because she didn’t want to wake up Harry, and picked one up along with a muffin from the cafe in the student union building.

Outside, she ran into Liam. “Hey, Fiona,” he greeted, the only cheerful presence she’d encountered so far. She nodded and sipped her tea, feeling the warmth spread through her chilled bones. “Have you got any more classes today?”

“Have to see a professor about an assignment I was supposed to start over the holiday — don’t you hate it when they do that? The class hadn’t even started yet and we already have something to do — then I’m off home.”

“Was it for Sargent’s class? The Chaucer one?”

“Yeah, you in it?”

He shook his head. “A friend of mine is. She was complaining about the assignment too.”

“It’s a stupid assignment,” Fiona said, and Liam laughed. “I should go. See you in class tomorrow?”

“I’ll probably be too hungover from Harry Styles’ birthday party.”

It was weird hearing Liam say Harry’s name, since she was used to the two being completely separate things in her life. “You’re going?”

Liam nodded. “Louis Tomlinson invited everyone. Apparently it’s gonna be massive.”

“Harry will hate that.”

“You’re friends with him, yeah?”

“Sometimes.”

“Do you ever like anyone all the time, Fiona?”

She thought for a moment. “My little brother. Though, I do like Allison most of the time.”

He laughed. “You’re something else.”

“I’d prefer to be me,” she answered, frowning.

“Then that’s what you are,” he said, and gave her another smile before jogging off toward one of his friends.

Fiona had no idea what he meant, but she didn’t dwell on it as she headed for the building where her professor’s office was located.

When she got back to the flat, Fiona found Niall putting on a pot of coffee in the kitchen. He was only in a pair of joggers, glasses perched on the end of his nose, and had clearly slept the day away. Harry was just getting up from the couch, stretching his arms above his head and making his shirt ride up, revealing the leaves tattooed over his hipbones. “Gonna have a shower,” he said, walking toward her. “Morning, Fee.”

“Don’t use my—”

“Body wash, I know,” he said, and disappeared down the corridor.

Turning toward Niall, Fiona went over and leaned against the counter next to him. “Did you go out?” he asked, eyeing her jeans.

“Class,” she answered. She had also planned on finding Oliver, because she had yet to decide what she was going to do about him and knew that ringing him wouldn’t make up her mind.

She was attracted to him, but there was nothing else there. While that had never bothered her before, after her conversation with Allison, she had been thinking more about Harry’s journal and how her heart was as crooked now as it had been when he wrote that passage. She didn’t even remember saying it, but now it was all she could think about.

That, and the fact that Harry had disagreed with her.

But rather than finding Oliver in his office or around the English Department, Fiona had come back to the flat unsuccessful.

“Niall, do you remember that guy from before winter holiday that I had over?”

While putting the coffee grounds back into the cupboard, Niall turned his head to look at her. “The old one?”

“He’s not old.”

“Fiona, did something happen? You wouldn’t bring it up if something hadn’t happened.”

She hadn’t told him that Oliver was a TA, and wasn’t planning on doing so. “He sort of asked to see me again.”

“You can’t do it.”

“Why?” she asked, because she was stuck and needed to be convinced whether to call Oliver or not. If she did, it would be selfish and probably a bad idea, but she would only be proving herself right by doing it. A few months ago Fiona wouldn’t have thought twice about sleeping with Oliver again, that was just the person she’d been then. The problem was, she didn’t know what sort of person she was now.

“Because he’s bad for you.”

“How though? He’s nice. He likes me. How is that bad?”

“Because he’s too old! It’s in the rules, Fiona. He’s taking advantage.”

“If we got together again, I’d be the one taking advantage of him.”

Niall grabbed a mug. “That isn’t any better.”

“Listen, just forget I said anything.”

“You’re the one who brought it up, because apparently you haven’t figured out that seeing this guy is a bad idea, and — Harry! Come and tell Fiona she’s being an idiot.”

Harry sauntered in, his hair wet from the shower. “What are we talking about?”

“Niall, don’t—”

“Fiona is going to fuck this bloke again even though I’ve told her not to, and you need to tell her she’s being stupid and reckless because she isn’t listening to me.”

Brow furrowed, Harry turned to Fiona. He looked confused, and a little bit hurt. It made her feel terrible, even though she hadn’t done anything yet. It made her want to do something, because he shouldn’t be looking at her like that after she’d told him there was nothing between them. She had tried to be clear about where she stood with him, and he was staring at her like she’d betrayed him.

“He doesn’t know anything about it, don’t bring him into this,” she snapped at Niall, unable to take Harry’s expression any longer. Maybe sleeping with Oliver would stop Harry from looking at her like he was, still holding onto a shred of hope that she couldn’t give him.

“I don’t even know what’s going on,” Harry said.

Niall ignored him. “It was a stupid decision in the first place, and I can’t believe you’re actually considering doing it again!”

“Don’t talk to me about stupid decisions!”

“I don’t think either of you is qualified to talk about stupid decisions,” Harry muttered.

“Oh, get over it already!” Fiona exclaimed. It came out angrier than she intended, mostly drawn from frustration with Niall, and she felt even worse when she saw the look on Harry’s face.

She realized then that she was still the person who messed everything up and didn’t say the right things. The one who failed to notice when the other person wanted them to be paying attention, to give as much as the other person wanted, to return the feelings being given to her.

“Niall, you don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t do,” she said, running off of adrenaline from arguing. “I’ll fuck whomever I want.”

It was the middle of the day, but she had a feeling Oliver had been waiting for this call. So, after grabbing her coat, keys, and bus pass and tugging on her boots, she dialled Oliver’s number (that he’d insisted upon putting in her mobile for if she changed her mind) as she rode down the lift.

He sounded surprised that she’d called, but pleased when she asked to see him. He was at his flat, and gave her the address before clicking off.

Fiona didn’t want to think about what the boys were talking about back at the flat, her mind jumping to all the worst conclusions. It was Harry’s birthday too, of all things, and he’d looked at her like she’d shattered any semblance of a relationship (platonic or otherwise) that they had with one sentence.

She had forgotten her headphones in her haste, and couldn’t drown out her own thoughts with the loudest movie score she had in her music collection (normally used for when she had an urgent assignment deadline). Over and over she told herself that this wasn’t out of character, that Harry was the one with too much faith and a misguided idea of the kind of person she was.

When Oliver opened his door, Fiona kissed him before he could get a word out. It might have been obvious that she was doing this to prove something, more to herself anyone else. To prove that this was who she was, the one who didn’t care and did bad things because she could.

But Oliver didn’t care. He pulled off her coat, jumper, t-shirt, and bra in quick succession, in between removing his own shirt and leading her to the bedroom. Fiona shut off her brain, focusing instead on the feeling of Oliver’s lips and hands on her skin.

She wasn’t sure how long she stayed there, because the sun never stayed out for very long these days. At some point, Oliver asked if she was hungry and they ate leftover Chinese in his kitchen — him in his pants and her in one of his shirts — and he kissed her again when they were finished and they went back to the bedroom. Through all of it, Fiona tried to stop herself from wandering away from the moment, but little flickers of doubt sowed themselves in her mind anyway. The longer she stayed there, the worse she was making things. Harry’s party had probably started, and everyone was there who cared about him, except for her.

“I’m going to pop in the shower,” Oliver said, kissing her once before getting out of bed. He was probably waiting for her to offer to join him, but Fiona’s insides felt like they were going to fall out of her mouth and she couldn’t even look at him anymore.

When Oliver had left the room, Fiona bolted upright and scanned the space for her things. She needed to leave; it had been a terrible thing that she’d done, to Oliver and Harry and herself. She got dressed as quickly as she could, leaving the flat without saying goodbye or leaving a note. Her exit would hopefully be the last time she did something the wrong way.

She’d been the person she thought she was, the one who messed things up, and got caught in that idea just like she had so many times before. But this wasn’t the person she wanted to be, who she was trying to be, and she’d forgotten about that in the midst of her anger and guilt. Making the decision that she would have made before when she saw that someone was getting attached when they shouldn’t have, because she couldn’t reciprocate the feeling.

Where she had gone wrong was thinking that the person she wanted to be would push Harry away because it was the right thing to do. She had thought that she was being better, not letting him get carried away and thinking there was something between them, but she had completely ignored the fact that there was.

Fiona recognized physical chemistry when she had it with someone. She had it with a lot of people, and with most of them it hadn’t extended beyond that. With Wren, it had taken her almost a month to start thinking of the other girl as her girlfriend and not someone she happened to spend all her time with. Fiona hadn’t recognized those other feelings, buried beneath the desire and everything else, feelings that made her heart race and her lips tug into a smile when the other person wasn’t looking, until they were staring her right in the face and threatening to blow everything apart if she didn’t start paying attention soon.

This time, she knew that instead of dismissing the flutter in her stomach and the desire to kiss Harry again — and again and again and again — she needed to pay attention. If those feelings were there, then by some force of nature, she might actually fancy World Class Idiot Harry Styles.