Crooked Heart

The morning after they’d sort of agreed that some kind of romantic interaction was going to be occurring in the near future, things were not going well. Fiona felt like Niall was watching her every move, even though he was the least observant person she knew and his cereal probably held more of his attention. But the worst part was that Harry wouldn’t stop smiling; it was driving Fiona positively mental.

She skipped breakfast entirely and went to campus two hours earlier than she was supposed to, because Harry was practicing for the big event at the hotel (he was meant to be there at noon to begin prep, but the thing didn’t start until six) and Fiona didn’t have the energy to be subtle about staring at his back as he cooked while Niall ranted to her about the state of European politics.

On her way over, she came to the conclusion that she should talk to Oliver. They hadn’t had a clear end — or at least that was how he saw it — to whatever it was they’d done, and Fiona didn’t want it to drag on unnecessarily. It wasn’t right, no matter how much she dreaded having that conversation with him.

The English Department seemed the logical place to try first, but Fiona checked the office he shared with a few other TAs and wandered through the entire building, not finding him anywhere. She checked the another building she knew he TA’d a class in, but he wasn’t there either. With an hour and a half left to kill before one of two classes she had that day, she went to all of the other places she’d run into him on campus.

Fiona gave up, picking up a muffin before she went to her class twenty minutes early and sat in her usual seat. Other people trickled in as she sat there, reading a book for another class she hadn’t gotten to start on the night before because of Harry’s impromptu dinner party.

Her mobile lit up with a text, and Fiona stared at Harry’s name for a moment before sliding it across the screen to open up their conversation.

Did you leave? I thought you just went to your room.

had some stuff to do on campus

I made you breakfast.

oh

sorry

It’s okay, I’m sure Niall will eat it

What should I say if he asks why I made you breakfast and not him?

just don’t tell him you made it for me

Excellent thinking

I knew I liked you for a reason :)

Fiona stared wide-eyed at the screen. She’d known, of course, but it was weird seeing it anyway.

That was meant to be read in a joking tone

Fiona?

what makes you think I ever take anything you say seriously?

Cos you like me too :)

(also to be read in a joking tone)

you’re a menace to society

and my class is starting so don’t text me again

So

I

Shouldn’t

Do

This?

Fiona turned off her phone.

A dozen messages flooded her inbox when she turned it back on after class, the majority of which she ignored because Harry didn’t have anything useful to say. But the rest were from Allison, who she planned to meet for lunch before Allison went to work and Fiona had her next class. It was already half past noon, so Fiona replied with the suggestion that they go to the little cafe just east of campus, which had the best soup and sandwich combinations.

Despite the proximity to campus, the cafe was never busy. Fiona suspected it was because it had a very unassuming exterior, with a few simple window boxes and a handpainted sign. She went in and ordered, then picked a table by the window, pulling out her book to read while she waited for her friend.

Allison arrived a few minutes later, half her hair twisted into a bun and the rest falling loose to her shoulders. After she ordered, she came and sat down across from Fiona, removing her coat to reveal her Starbucks uniform underneath. Fiona was glad to see that her friend looked better than she had after the row with Niall yesterday — well rested, and back with her usual smile.

“How did the rest of your night go?” Allison asked, leaning her forearms on the table.

“Dinner was good, we watched a film, talked about weird turn-ons, I’m going out with Harry—”

“What?”

Fiona twisted a lock of hair into a miniature plait, her eyes flicking up to Allison’s wide gaze. “Yeah. It’s not, like, official, but we sort of decided it was a thing that’s going to happen.”

“That’s brilliant!”

“Let’s hope so.”

“This gives me something to focus on other than the abysmal state of my own love life,” Allison said, her eyes bright.

“There’s not even anything to talk about yet, really.”

“Are you nervous?”

“Of course I’m fucking nervous. Harry and I are opposites when it comes to dating.”

Allison gave a knowing look. “You mean cos he actually does it?”

“Yeah.”

“The fact that you’re going out with him is proof enough, I think, that you’re willing to at least try this.”

“Suppose,” Fiona sighed, slouching in her chair. She’d done three plaits in the time that they were talking, and ran her fingers through them, letting the dark strands loose.

Because she could tell when Fiona was done with a subject, Allison quickly switched gears. “Have you called your mum yet today?”

“Was gonna do it on my break.”

“Tell I say hi, yeah? Pass it along to Eli as well.”

“I hope I get to speak with him, I want to find out if he made her change her mind about me.”

“Maybe he was able to remind her what’s actually important in life.”

“What’s that?”

Allison rolled her eyes and grinned. “Love, obviously. Don’t you read?”

+++

The thing about trying to read on break was that other people were in there too, and they were not reading. Fiona had claimed the one of corners in the break room, dragged a chair over to it, put in her headphones and blasted her reading playlist so she couldn’t hear the chatter of her co-workers. The boxy polo shirt that made up her uniform was scratching the back of her neck and she’d hadn’t bothered taking off her visor, so she knew she looked ridiculous sitting in the chair with her legs hooked over one of the armrests and her book right up to her nose, but she was in too surly a mood to care.

A shadow fell across the page, and Fiona could feel somebody standing over her. She was pretty sure that most of her co-workers were afraid of her, so she wasn’t sure why one of them would be interrupting her reading time, but she looked up anyway.

It was Harry.

The shock of him being at her work wore off quickly because he was grinning like an idiot and it was definitely in regard to the visor on her head. Fiona was very strict about her friends never seeing her in her cinema uniform; only Niall had seen her in it before because he’d gone on a date while she was working. It was even worse that it was Harry, because he would never stop teasing her for it.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, ignoring all of the stares coming from around the room. Somebody coming in to talk to her was a very rare occurrence, so they all wanted to know who Harry was and why he was there.

“I managed to pop out for half an hour,” Harry said. His coat was undone, revealing the chef’s jacket underneath. There were a number of stains on it from the prep work he’d been doing all afternoon. “I went by your flat, cos I wasn’t sure when you started your shift, and Niall told me you were here. That’s about it.”

“You haven’t answered my question.”

Harry glanced around, and those who’d been staring quickly when back to their own conversations. “Can we talk somewhere else?”

“Yeah,” she replied, snapping her book shut. Fiona got out of her chair and went to her locker to grab her parka, tossing in her visor at the same time. She led Harry out of the cinema and around the corner where there weren’t so many people walking past. “What is it?”

“Well, first of all,” Harry began, holding up his hands. “Can I say how lovely you look today.”

She smacked his arm and tried to scowl, but Harry was giggling and it wasn’t having the same effect on her that it usually did. She smoothed back her hair, some of which had fallen loose from her ponytail when she removed the visor, and bit back a smile.

“I mean, really, absolutely ravishing,” Harry continued with a grin. “That hat you were wearing really… well, it hid most of your face but I absolutely loved it.”

A bubble of laughter escaped her lips before she had a chance to stop it, and Harry’s eyes lit up with excitement. He laughed again when she clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes narrowing, but his giggling was making her want to smile again and her hand slowly fell back to her side. But when her lips started to stretch Harry’s laughter cut off abruptly, and then he was kissing her.

Harry’s hands cupped her face, his lips moving against her eagerly. Unable to help herself, Fiona kissed him back, gripping the lapels of his aviator coat. She went up on her toes to deepen the kiss, her tongue swiping across his lip, and Harry’s hands drifted away from her cheeks and down her back. Because of her thick coat, he slipped his hands around from the open front, one resting where her polo was tucked into her jeans and the other higher on her spine, keeping her pressed closely to him.

In the back of her mind, Fiona was aware that her break was nearly over and Harry probably had to get back to the hotel soon, but she didn’t want to stop. She wanted to take out the elastic that was keeping his curls back in a bun and run her fingers through them, to kiss him until both their lips were sore, to feel his skin against hers.

Harry moved away from her mouth to focus on her neck, but Fiona ducked away, pushing on his shoulders to make him lift his head and look at her, confused. “I have to go inside soon.”

“Right,” Harry said, his hands sliding around to her hips as he shifted away from her slightly. He kept them there, though, and she could feel his thumbs tracing the lines of her hipbones through her shirt. “I actually did come here to ask you something, before um, that happened. Er, I wanted to ask what you were doing this weekend.”

“I think I’m supposed to be working, but it’s pretty easy to switch shifts.”

He licked his lips, drawing her attention to them, but she tried very hard to focus on his eyes instead. “So, it’s a date then?”

The idea of hanging out with Harry in a romantic way made Fiona nervous. But the word ‘date’ made her laugh. Harry looked even more confused, his grip slackening on her hips. She flattened her palms against his chest, clamping her lips together to stop from laughing any more. “Sorry. That word is just weird to me. Something about it just makes me… I dunno.”

“What?”

“Just like, I’ve been on a few dates and they’re always so awkward and horrible. I can flirt, yeah, but I don’t really know how to function in, like, a restaurant environment. S’why I usually make people take me to pubs. At least then I can drink without it being too obvious that I want to get drunk. I prefer to skip the whole date thing altogether, if I’m honest.”

Harry pursed his lips and stepped back. Fiona felt colder without him pressed up against her, and tucked her hands into her pockets. “I guess I should have seen that coming.”

“Shit,” she cursed. “I don’t mean that I don’t want us to go out. It’s just that when I hear the word ‘date,’ restaurants and romantic walks and stuff comes to mind and that’s not really my thing. I’d rather just hang out at the flat when Niall’s not there and watch a film.”

When he got a certain look in his eyes, Fiona hoped she hadn’t said completely the wrong thing. But a grin started forming on his face, and she felt herself relax a little. “Good thing I can cook.”

“What?”

“I’m going to make you dinner.”

“Dinner,” she said, and he nodded. “Do I have to dress nicely?”

Harry shrugged. “Wear joggers if you like. Or even better, that visor.”

She frowned, but the idea of spending a night alone at the flat with Harry while he cooked her dinner was intriguing. She wondered if he’d had some elaborate plan to impress her, one that probably included reading poetry, and he’d ditched it when she said she wasn’t that sort of girl. Harry was malleable, easily switching gears when he still got to do or have what he wanted in the end, even if certain circumstances were different. Fiona envied his ability to adapt. Even when she wanted to change, there were some things she found difficult to get past.

“Or you could dress like you usually do,” he suggested. “If it’s easier not to think of it as a date then fine, but you should know that I am going to date the hell out of you.”

She bit her lip, because he had on a completely serious expression and she didn’t know what to make of it. Fiona wanted for her and Harry to work out, but she knew herself better than that. But the pull to try was stronger, so she let it reel her in.

“Okay,” she said, and Harry grinned triumphantly. “I should go now, though.”

“Me too.”

She didn’t let herself think about it, and put her hand on his neck before giving him a short peck on the mouth. When she jumped back, one of Harry’s hands was outstretched, like he’d been reaching for her waist a second before. “Bye,” she said, walking back around the corner feeling giddy.

Fiona hadn’t felt giddy in ages.

Before her break ended, Fiona sent out two texts. One was to her mum, to apologize for not ringing and promising to do it the next day. The other was to Oliver, cancelling the possibility of any future between the two of them. It was probably the worst way to be assertive and definitive, but it was the best she could do until she saw him.

+++

"Niall, did you buy broccoli?” Fiona turned from the fridge to stare at him incredulously.

"Yeah," he said, not looking up from his notebook.

It was a full evening of studying at the flat. Niall had taken up the entire living room, but with the number of folders, books, and notes he had around him she suspected he wasn't just doing revision. Fiona had retreated to her own room when he brought out a second laptop, and was working on essays due for three of her classes. One was significantly more important than the other two, but also on a short story she had not enjoyed in the slightest, so she was struggling with keeping her contempt reigned in.

"Since when do you even go to the produce section?"

"Harry made me a grocery list," Niall explained. "Though I think I may have gotten the wrong sort of lettuce. Do you know how many different kinds of lettuce there are?"

Fiona had no idea, but three was probably Niall's definition of a lot. "There's five packs of Digestives. You hate those!"

"But you love them, and they were also on sale."

"Cheers," she said, picking one of the packs from the cupboard and taking the whole thing with her — along with the tea she'd come out to make — back to her room.

Fiona settled into her chair and took a bite out of one of the biscuits as she scrolled through what she'd written for her assignment so far. She sipped her tea, which never seemed to taste as good when she made it herself as when Harry did, and scanned her outline to make sure she hadn't missed any important points. Though she couldn't say that she was proactive when it came to assignments, Fiona liked to analyze texts. It was the writing part she didn't enjoy so much.

To give herself incentive to finish the essay on schedule (giving her enough time to do the other, easier two before the due dates), Fiona decided to eat one of the Digestives after she completed a paragraph.

She was searching for a quote when she heard someone come in, the boots banging against the wall as they were kicked off an unmistakable indication that Harry had arrived. Since he showed up at the cinema during her break, she’d hardly seen him. They’d gone on a run the morning before, but running was one of the only times Harry actually did the task on hand instead of trying to distract her. She still felt nervous whenever he was around, not quite sure what to do with herself, and trying to figure out what was too much and what was not enough.

It was frustrating, to say the least.

Fiona read over her most recent paragraph while eating a biscuit, knowing in the back of her head that the incentive plan probably wasn’t the best idea, considering the length that her essay was supposed to be. She noticed a grammatical error and held the biscuit between her teeth as she fixed it, and that was how Harry found her.

“I must be the luckiest guy, always finding you when you’re at your most attractive,” he said, quietly shutting the door behind him.

She whirled around in her chair, narrowing her eyes at him. “You’re just upset that Niall bought my favourite biscuits before you could think to do it.”

“You caught me,” he said, raising his hands in surrender. She rolled her eyes and finished the biscuit as Harry came over and leaned against her desk, arms folded over his chest. “I’ve got some news.”

“Yeah?”

“It seems that Niall is going away this weekend, so we won’t need Zayn to invite him over to my house.”

“Is that what all the stuff he’s got on the coffee table is for?”

Harry nodded. “Model UN conference in Oxford. Dunno why he didn’t mention it before, these things are usually planned months ahead.”

“He probably did and I forgot. I usually tune him out when he goes on his rants about politics.”

“Some of it’s quite interesting, I recommend listening to him sometime. But, more importantly, we’ll have the flat all to ourselves,” Harry continued. They’d been texting all week trying to figure out a plan, since Harry was set on making her dinner. The enthusiasm he was showing intimidated her a little bit, because it showed how invested he was. Fiona was still trying to figure out if how she felt about him, when it seemed like he’d had it sorted for a long time.

“Okay.”

“You don’t look very excited.”

She leaned back in her chair and gazed up at him. “This is my face, Harry. Take it or leave it.”

In response, he leaned over and brushed his lips against hers. “I never wanted to kiss someone who was glaring at me until I met you,” he said.

“Wasn’t I glaring at you when we met?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t want to kiss you then. You were just fun to tease.”

Fiona grimaced, turning back to her laptop. But Harry didn’t move — his hip was touching her arm and his elbow was practically in her face — so she picked up the device and went over to her bed.

Much to her discontent, he followed. “Don’t you have other things to do?”

“I came over here to see you,” Harry replied, leaning against the headboard and stretching his legs out before him. They were considerably longer than hers, but she had polka dot socks and his were plain black so she figured she won. “I also have work in the morning, but that’s not relevant.”

“You can’t wait until the weekend to annoy me?” she asked.

“Obviously not.”

She tried to focus on her essay, but then Harry’s lips touched her jaw and travelled down her neck, and she was shutting her laptop before the rational part of her brain kicked in. Harry sucked on the skin below her ear, definitely leaving a mark she’d have to find an explanation for later, and his hand crossed her body to curl around her thigh, angling her toward him.

The rational side of her brain did kick in eventually, but it wasn’t to tell her that she needed to work on her assignment. “Harry, don’t you think we should wait until the weekend when Niall isn’t here?”

He sighed against her collarbone, then lifted his head. “He’s so caught up in his own stuff, he’s not going to notice. You know that. Why are you always so hesitant? It doesn’t seem like you.”

“Remember what I said about dating?”

“We’re snogging in your bedroom, Fiona, this isn’t a fancy restaurant,” he said, then grinned at his own words. Fiona didn’t think he was being funny. She felt close to bursting with all of the tension running through her veins. After a moment Harry noticed this and collected himself. “Besides, this is physical, you’ve only ever said it’s the romance and emotional stuff that you’re not sure about. So what is it, really?”

“I’m nervous!” she blurted, and Harry’s eyes widened. “You… you make me nervous.”

He still had an incredulous look on his face. “Me?”

“Yeah.”

“But you’re like, like…” Harry gestured at her with his hand. “Promiscuous.”

Fiona rolled her eyes. “That doesn’t mean I don’t get nervous, Harry.”

He rearranged himself on the bed so that he sat facing her, and clasped his hands in his lap. “What about me makes you nervous?”

She hesitated. “Everything.”

“Will you try to be more specific?”

“I can’t, it’s everything. I don’t want to mess this up.”

Harry shrugged. “I hardly think that you could go wrong by kissing me back.”

“It’s not moving too fast?”

“Is that what you’re concerned about?” he asked, laughing. “Moving too fast?”

His tone didn’t help, and she stared at the bookshelves on the wall. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Fiona, you’re the most impatient person on the planet. How did you even convince yourself to think like this?”

“It’s why I’m nervous, idiot.”

“Because you think that I don’t want to be intimate with you yet?”

She made a face. “Do you have to say it like that?”

“Yes. Now, will you please explain to me what gave you the impression I want to wait?”

“I wasn’t sure what your method was,” she shrugged. “You’ve been with, like, three people since I’ve known you and for most of that time I didn’t give a fuck about what you were doing with them, so I have no information to go off.”

Harry unclasped his hands, placing them on her shoulders. “Well, just so we’re clear, I’m even more impatient that you are. And I’ve waited enough.”

“Did we just have a conversation about sex without saying the word sex?”

“I think we did. High five?”

“No.”

Harry grinned and closed the gap between them. It was like he was trying to kiss the nervousness out of her, running his hands along her arms and sides, giving gentle squeezes in certain places, keeping it light and slow.

As someone who was in fact very impatient, skipping all the dating stuff to get to the bedroom, Fiona was surprised at how much she liked it. But once her brain clicked, and the anxiety had been swept out, the impatience took back its usual place. She grabbed the front of Harry’s flannel and pulled him against her. He slotted one of his legs between hers and they fell backward onto the pillows, narrowly avoiding a disaster involving Fiona’s wrought iron bed frame and the fairy lights twisted around the bars.

Fiona was happy that Harry’s hair wasn’t in a bun, no matter how good it made his jawline look, because she was free to tangle her fingers in his curls as much as she pleased. When her nails scratched his scalp Harry hummed low in his throat, one of his hands slipping beneath her t-shirt. Fiona wanted to kiss him everywhere, to trace the planes and curves of his torso with her hands and her mouth, and she nudged Harry’s shoulder until he got the idea.

They flipped over, and Fiona found herself straddling Harry. His flannel was already barely buttoned, so she undid the rest and stared at him for a second, her chest rising and falling rapidly. It was in that pause that she heard Niall shout at the telly (he’d probably switched to sports highlights after event planning got boring) and realized that he was in fact still in the flat, and she and Harry had chosen yet another terrible time to get to know one another.

“What?”

“Niall.”

“He’s not going to notice.”

“These walls are thin, Harry. How many times have you heard Niall when he’s got a girl over?”

Harry sighed, his hands still on her hips, trailing along her hipbones through the material of her leggings. She knew that in their current predicament too much shifting would only make matters worse, so she tried to keep still. “Does this mean I have to leave now?”

“How much longer do you think we could get away with being in here?”

“Until the rugby highlights are over, at least.”

Fiona bent down and connected their lips, causing Harry to hum low in his throat and slide his hands up her sides, dragging her shirt along with them. Fiona tugged on Harry’s bottom lip with her teeth and lowered her body onto his, their legs tangling together.

They kissed for a few more minutes, but Harry was the one to pull away with several short pecks. “I have to go spend time with Niall now.”

Fiona hummed, rolling off of him. Harry propped himself up on his elbow next to her, smiling softly. “Can I help you?”

“I’m trying to make the moment last.”

“Go away.”

“You know I’m never going to listen to you when you tell me to go away now.” She scowled at him, pushing his shoulder so that he fell onto his back with a chuckle. “Cos I know you don’t really want me to.”

“Piss off, I don’t like you.”

A moment later he got up and left, throwing a grin over his shoulder. Fiona felt jittery, and needed to clear her head before she could get any more work done. She decided to take a shower, tuning out Niall and Harry’s chatter about whatever program they were watching as she crossed the corridor to the bathroom.

+++

The flat was dark when she emerged from her bedroom to have a cigarette out on the balcony. Fiona had half-expected Harry to slip into her room after Niall went to bed, but then it occurred to her that bed-sharing might be the line that they had to wait to cross. It seemed a little silly to her, since sharing a bed was something kids and friends and couples and loads of other people did, so she didn’t see why two people in between couldn’t do it.

But she was mostly just thinking of excuses, because she wanted him to knock on her door and ask if he could sleep in there more than she would like to admit.

To her surprise, Harry didn’t wake up when she came through to get out onto the balcony, or appear in the doorway as she smoked. When she came back inside, pulling her cardigan close around her body, she wandered closer to the couch to check if he was sleeping.

“I’m awake,” Harry said in a muffled voice, his face buried in a pillow.

“Doesn’t your back get sore sleeping on that thing?”

“S’better than the couch at my house.”

“You’ve got a bed at your house,” she pointed out, then decided to go for it. “There’s also a bed option for you here.”

Fiona’s eyes had adjusted to the darkness, so she saw Harry lift his head and peer at her. “Are you implying what I think you’re implying?”

“Yes,” she answered. “We both know you’re going to leave before Niall wakes up, so you don’t have to worry about getting caught sneaking out.”

Harry didn’t need any more motivation. He got up, and it became very obvious that he was only wearing pants. Harry rubbed his eyes as he wandered over, stretching out his other hand until he found her shoulder. “Not nervous anymore?”

“I think you got rid of all that earlier.”

“Good. I think I’ve developed a neck problem from sleeping on that thing too often.”

“Why do you do it then?” she asked quietly, as they walked back to her room. Harry had bundled his things under his arm, keeping one hand on her shoulder to stop his drowsy limbs from stumbling too much.

“Mostly because I hate driving at night when I’m tired as fuck,” Harry answered pleasantly, his voice still rough with sleep. “Or in the morning when I am also tired. It’s only five minutes from here, but from home it’s ages away.”

“Okay, you don’t need to explain anymore,” she said, shutting her bedroom door. There was a thud behind her as Harry flopped onto the bed face first. Since she’d already been under the covers, he tugged them over his lower half easily, then lifted his head and patted the mattress.

“Can’t promise I’ll be very good at cuddling,” he mumbled as she shed her cardigan and climbed in next to him. “Too tired.”

Fiona pulled the quilt all the way up to her chin, tilting her head to the side to look at him. With the fairy lights still on she could see his face clearly, angled slightly toward her, his eyes half-lidded. Fiona wondered how she’d gotten there, to the point where she wanted him sleeping next to her the way she’d only ever wanted one other person before. “Goodnight, Harry.”

He grunted something back that was too low and hoarse to be comprehensible, and she reached over to unplug the lights. Harry started to snore softly almost immediately, slipping into a deep sleep with an ease that Fiona had always envied. She turned onto her side, putting her back to him, and shut her eyes.