The conversation is awkward, tensions high as Harry masterminds his way out of every question Katie throws at him, his patience clearly starting to waver from the interrogation he definitely didn't expect tonight.

She asks vague questions about the time we are spending together, his work and friends, what he likes doing on the weekend and throws in the odd question about my father mentoring him.

He runs a hand through his hair and fires back with questions of his own, trying to deflect any real conversation and it is so obvious what is going on that I'm wishing a little more with each passing second that we didn't come to this party.

As the weird back and forth plays out in front of me, I try and distract myself with the memory of how his hands felt against my skin for that brief moment and how I can indulge in it again soon.

Liam is being a team player, running back and forth with drinks to help with Katie's pursuit and not give anyone a chance to break the uncomfortable conversation with the predictable excuse of refilling a glass.

I, in turn, am getting drunker by default, throwing back the gin like it might be some sort of magic escape portal to getting me out of this situation.

The four of us have somehow managed to nestle ourselves in a corner, Katie propping herself up onto the armrest of a sofa, Liam standing close by as they work together to try and uncover the man who is still putting in the effort and speaking to them for some reason.

Katie words are starting to slur and just as a new song starts she is jumping up, proclaiming it's her favourite and dragging Liam onto the makeshift dance floor with her.

I laugh at their expense as he spins her around, entertained by his ballroom dancing skills and that he is enough of a goof to pull out his classical moves to a hip-hop anthem.

"Jesus, those two are something else," Harry breathes out as he faces me, having had enough of the two wingmen I never asked for.

"They mean well," I counter and he bites the side of his lips as I take another swig of my drink.

His hand reaches up to guide my glass down from my lips but I'm too distracted by his fingers pinching the exposed skin of my waist as he purrs into my ear, almost protectively, "Careful, baby. This stuff is strong."

Green eyes search my soul, his body so close to mine and this dark corner the perfect place for getting into trouble.

"Haz! Nice of you to introduce your friend," a brash voice bellows with an Irish accent beside us and Harry uncharacteristically looks sheepish as he takes a careful step back and looks at the tops of his boots.

The blond man who has approached us slaps a hand on Harry's back and although this guy has a massive grin on his face, Harry looks anything but delighted about his company.

"Alexa this is Niall, we... work together," he hesitates but Niall doesn't, pushing obnoxiously between us and holding a hand out.

"Great to meet you, I've heard a lot about you from Harry here. But don't tell him I told you that."

I hear Harry grunt in disapproval at Niall's indiscretion and sense of humour and my alcohol clouded mind finds it too amusing.

"And she thinks I'm funny!" Niall proclaims.

My stomach drops as Harry quickly makes an excuse to leave, mumbling about a bathroom and the moment he disappears I am stuck daydreaming about his touch and wondering where he is, while I smile and nod at whatever the fuck Niall is talking about.

I despise small talk and Niall is giving it to me in droves, forced to ask a million questions when I give him almost nothing back. My eyes search for Harry, or at this point, even my annoyingly pushy friends to save me.

Niall scrapes the bottom of the barrel, trying to extract anything out of me to find a common connection and keep the conversation flowing, asking about my childhood and my job, how it is working with my dad and all the usual bullshit people ask.

As time passes, it becomes clearer that Harry isn't returning and my chest constricts with self-pity and the prospect that this was all his plan to actually try and set me up with Niall.

I throwback another drink, my vision blurring and rudely excuse myself from the one-sided conversation with the Irishman.

Making my way to where I spotted Katie and Liam last, a gasp rips through my lungs when I spot them, in a corner, arms around each other and eyes closed as they full-on make out.

My hands fly over my mouth to stop the joyful laugh from being heard and I unnecessarily tiptoe backwards, out of sight and on the hunt for a man with chestnut curls and a dimple that could melt hearts.

For the second time in under a minute, I'm stopped in my tracks, shock stealing what's left of my dulled senses as I find Harry leaning against a wall, a woman who looks nothing like me laughing into the air at something he says.

Harry and the blonde are unaware of my presence and I stay hidden as I hear her mention me.

"Was that Alan Patterson's daughter I saw before?" she questions, Harry taking a long drag from his cigarette as he nods.

"Yeah, Niall insisted on talking to her," he responds.

"Are you okay with that?" she asks cryptically to which Harry shrugs.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Careful, Harry," she cautions.

Why would he have to be wary of me? If anything he is the one completely taking me for a ride!

Next thing I notice is her grabbing Harry's hand, intertwining their fingers together and I turn sharply on my heel, not wanting to subject myself to the kiss I know will come next. The kiss I want for myself.

Tears I didn't expect burn my nose and I try and swallow down the lump in my throat as I beeline for the door, my subconscious trying to talk down the emotion from bubbling up. I knew he wasn't into me, I knew he was out of my league, I knew this shitty outfit and a red lip wouldn't be enough to persuade him otherwise.

There is no room for beige in a rainbow.

The fresh air of the street is welcoming and sobering and I don't know if it's the confirmation he doesn't want me or the fact I had let my hopes climb over the wall I built up, that is upsetting me the most.

I get into a cab as fast as I can, wanting to get home and crawl into my sheets and forget this horrible night. I quickly send Katie a message telling her I've left at the same moment my phone buzzes with a text from Harry.

*Where are you?*

*Kitchen* I lie, not being in the state of mind or equipped with the amount of composure I will need to tell him that I've left.

Minutes later I get another reply as I allow the tears to finally drop from my eyes. I'm frustrated for putting myself in this position. I hate crying, especially over someone who is definitely not crying over me.

*I can't see you. Meet me back by the dance floor.*

I delete the message without a response as the car pulls up, the short drive making me aware of just how drunk I am as I stumble up to the building and into my apartment.

My phone rings in my hand but I throw it hastily onto my bed as I pull these awfully tight clothes off and walk into the bathroom to take off the makeup that is now smudged down my cheeks.

*Katie told me you left. Answer.*

I roll my eyes at Harry's message, wondering where he gets off being demanding and I debate writing something childish back about going to find the blonde he was flirting with.

Instead, I silence his second incoming call and pull the duvet over my head, not bothering to put any pyjamas on over my underwear as my head spins the room around at a nauseating pace.

*Alexa, stop being a brat.*

His final text awakens the fury inside me and before I can stop myself, I'm hitting the call button, my body jolting up to sit upright in bed as I purse my lips in anticipation.

"What the fuck?" Harry's voice booms down the phone, the quietness of his surroundings making it clear he is no longer at the party.

"Like you give a shit where I am!" I yell irrationally and know how crazy I sound but I can't help it.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" he replies, just as angry as I am.

In this drunken moment, I decide to find out for certain if this is one big game to him or if somewhere, hidden beneath the bullshit, he actually wants me.

Throwing caution to the wind and every inch of self-respect I have out the window I take in a deep breath and state my request.

"Come over." I keep my voice calm and the tone insinuates everything I need.

I hold my breath as he contemplates what I'm proposing and I'm not sure if it's reality or the alcohol that's making the silence stretch on forever.

"Why did you leave?" he says finally, deflecting my question with another.

"Because, I wanted to go home but I want you to come here," I say again, my heart thumping in my chest so loudly that I'm sure he can hear it.

"Did you leave because of Liam and Katie? I thought he was there with you?" he asks without answering again and I scoff.

"No! I have no interest in Liam, you know this. I want you, Harry! I can't take this anymore, just come over," I blurt out and I feel like my intoxicated body might pass out from the fear of rejection and the mix of adrenaline surging through it.

"I can't," he says far too softly.

"Why!" I start to sound desperate. "Just one night, Harry," I try and bargain with what I hope is commitment issues and not lack of desire.

"No Lex," he says, and I can't tell if this disappointment in his voice is because I'm ruining the friendship or because he really can't come.

"Is this about my father?" I accuse harshly, the alcohol making me bold and my temper rise.

"It's just shitty timing, okay?" he confesses without having to say anything more and my blood boils.

"Let me guess? You're focusing on your career right now?" I yell and I can't stop the anger he fuels. "Join the fucking club, Harry!"

"You know what, Alexa? I need some space," he barks in defence.

"Space!" I scream, furious at how this conversation is turning from bad to worse. "I know nothing about you, Harry! How much space could you need? You are at my house, know my family, are at my workplace."

"Fine, not anymore!" he yells back, and for some reason, just as frustrated as me.

"Fuck you, Harry," I hiss down the phone before turning it off, my tears staining the pillow and for the first time since Adam left, I cry myself to sleep.

A/N:

So.. that didn't go to plan

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