February

"I'm so sorry!"  

Isabel was scampering into Nell's, a small, cheap greasy spoon on the edge of campus, her hair a damp, flyaway mess and her cheeks pinched red from the cold.   She dropped into a seat next to Rory and pulled her scarf off, smiling apologetically at the girl opposite her.  

"I'm so, so sorry Mel."  

"It's okay," Mel said flatly. "You're only" - she glanced at her watch - "half an hour late."   Isabel groaned. That was bad, even for her standards.

"I'm really so sorry, I honestly didn't – I wouldn't –"

"Stop apologising," Mel interrupted. "That gets annoying."

"Yeah, I've been told." Isabel reached into her pocket and got out a tissue, dabbing her running nose while Mel looked on in disgust. "What did I miss?"

"We were just going through the finances," Rory said with a smile, his glasses slipping down his nose slightly as he did so. "My area of expertise, you didn't miss much."

Isabel fished out her notebook and sat looking at Mel expectantly, pen poised.

"I'll start again for your benefit then, shall I?" Mel sighed at Isabel, her rhetorical question hanging in the air uncomfortably until she eventually continued. "Well, the Film Soc was named over Christmas as the university's fourth largest non-departmental society."

"A change implemented by you," Rory praised, and Mel ignored him.

"We are preceded only by the Ski Soc, the Chocolate Soc and the Rowing Soc. And for this reason, it's time to Step Things Up."

Mel often spoke as if she was capitalising words. It was a thing that took some time getting used to.

"It's February now, and I know you two are surprised I called another meeting seeing as we already arranged the film schedule for this term. But I really want us to find a way to make our society The Best. So, how do we Step Things Up?" She peered at the pair of them opposite her, speaking as if she was addressing a large crowd and not two people jammed into the corner of a sub-par café. "Well, I have a lot of – Issy, are you writing this down?"

"Yes, sorry, I'm –"

"I have a lot of ideas. I also have a lot of work, and I can't do this alone."

Mel was a third year politics student with an ambition to work for the EU and a side interest in film, mostly those involving either of the Phoenix brothers.

"What I'm asking" – she paused dramatically – "is whether you are both fully committed to this society?"

She seemed to aim this directly towards Isabel, so much so that Rory didn't bother to answer but instead turned to face Isabel curiously.

"I, um –" Isabel blushed. "I mean, yes of course I am, I love being secretary –"

"You love being secretary?" Mel scoffed. "Are you not gonna stand in the leadership election in June to take over from me next year?"

"I mean, I could. I might, I just..." Isabel was unsure how to proceed. "I never really thought about it."

 "Yeah," Mel nodded, narrowing her eyes. "Oh, I know you, Isabel. You love film and you enjoy coming along on Thursday nights and helping out. You like taking notes for me every now and then, like having the title secretary, sure. Not headed for big things, though, that's not your style."

Isabel was completely taken aback. She sniffed, her nose still running, and blinked at Mel blankly. "Well I –"

"Don't worry," Mel said with a wave of her hand. "Rory here would make a good leader anyway."

"It's not that I'm – the thing is, I'm secretary because Lisa had to drop out. I'm not even elected, like I don't think –"

"Sure, sure, you're doing us a favour. We know." Isabel had no idea how she'd made Mel so irritated, but she was too scared to push her any further and so shut up, swiping her hand under her nose and picking up her pen again. "So anyway: how do we Step Things Up? Well, I've done some research and I've got three courses of action."

She coughed, pausing for suspense.

"Number One: Unique Selling Point. Rory here was telling me just before you arrived, Isabel, an idea he had to create a library of films we could rent out to students for cheap prices."

Isabel nodded, scribbling furiously.

"Number Two: Class and Style. I'm going to look for better venues, stretching off campus, maybe try and get local cinemas involved. And Number Three is for you, Isabel: Action in the Community. Let's expand the society and get involved with people in the local area – schools, clubs, you name it."

Isabel swallowed. She had about a thousand questions, and a few objections, but before she could say anything more Mel's phone rang loudly.

"Oh, fuck it," she said loudly. "That's my Terrible Idiot Boyfriend. I'll be right back."

She grabbed her phone and waltzed out of the café, the bell ringing as she slammed the door.

"I always forget how intense she is in these meetings," Rory grinned, offering Isabel a bit of his brownie.

"She's just passionate is all," Isabel said, stuffing the brownie into her mouth. "I always love hearing about the Terrible Idiot Boyfriend though."

"Poor guy. I can't imagine having her as a girlfriend. She'd eat me alive."

Isabel laughed thickly, her mouth still crammed with brownie. "I'm sure you could handle her, give yourself some credit."

Rory shook his head but smiled all the same. "So how come you were so late?"

She looked away from him, staring at the chips in the wood at the edge of the table and a bit of ketchup smeared across the surface. "I stayed at my boyfriend's house last night and then... well, what happened was that I said I was going to the library this morning, but then he decided to come as well and so I ..."

She trailed off, looking up at Rory apprehensively. He frowned, confused, until he understood. "You lied to him?"

She sniffed. "I'm an awful liar, I don't know why he bought it in the first place. I guess he can't tell when I lie, but I was pretty sure he would guess when I suddenly said I remembered I had a doctor's appointment once we got to the library and –"

"Why did you lie?"

Isabel swallowed. "Well no-one really knows that I ... that I'm involved in this."

Rory nodded, disappointed. "I get it. Wouldn't be cool to belong to a society that isn't sports, let alone help run one, right? Not for your lot."

"No, not at all, that's not what I said –"

Rory shrugged, pushing his glasses further up his nose with a sigh. "It's fine, I get it. You're with Louis, and all his friends are... you're popular, right? You don't get involved with stuff like this or people like me. You just kinda... bask in how cool you all are."

Isabel gaped at him. She had no idea what she'd done to annoy everyone this morning, but clearly she was doing something wrong, and she felt a bubble of guilt in her stomach. "No, I'm not like that. I'm not, I mean I don't –I've only ever –"

"It's okay, Isabel," Rory said, deadpan. "I'm not ashamed of this, of being here. It's okay if you are, but I'm not. I didn't think ... well, I guess you are."

Isabel felt her heart plummet as he looked away from her, entirely disappointed and frustrated. She liked Rory and his sandy hair and his glasses and his lopsided smile. She liked joking about Mel with him and sitting in the back of the room on Thursday nights watching and talking about films together. She liked being part of the Film Soc. She had more in common with him than she did with most of Louis' friends, and she hated that he thought that, hated that he saw her that way.

She opened her mouth to say so, but then Mel was back and the moment was gone, and for the first time Isabel wondered whether the way people like Mel and Rory and Harry saw her was much more real than the way she saw herself, after all.

~~~

Nearly two weeks had gone by since Harry's birthday party, and there was no denying that there had been a shift in his and Isabel's relationship. At work, Harry no longer hid his art book secretively, and in turn Isabel was careful not to look over at it, knowing that he wanted his privacy. They laughed and joked about, an easy banter between them, and Harry had taken to driving her home on Friday and Sunday evenings.

What Isabel especially admired was how good he was with children. On Sunday evenings, when birthday parties and families would march over in loud, excited packs to collect their shoes, Harry would turn into a different person entirely. He seemed to light up around children, and they all fell in love with him within seconds, all wide, adoring eyes and toothless smiles. He'd joke about their shoe size, always guessing much smaller or bigger, and if they were especially cute he would get them a size ten times too big and scratch his head confusedly when they shrieked that they looked like a clown.  

Once a tiny little girl had asked shyly for a hug when she returned her shoes, and Harry had grinned delightedly, his eyes lighting up like he'd just won the lottery. He'd jogged round the counter and squatted down next to her, wrapping his arms around her tightly as she rested her head against his shoulder. Isabel just watched from behind the counter, feeling for a second that if he ever looked at her like that, with such enthusiasm and warmth in his eyes, she'd be quite unable to resist the charm that won over every customer he served.

On this particular Wednesday, a frosty February afternoon, Harry and Isabel had both done work for uni all afternoon, speaking occasionally but mostly sitting in comfortable silence, the only sound being Harry's pencil scratching against the paper.

When Harry suddenly snapped his book shut and shoved it away hastily, Isabel looked up to see that Ben had come over, tapping his pen against the counter top and gesturing towards the clock. "Shift's over, guys."

She watched as Harry smiled at him, jumping to his feet and babbling about the low numbers of customers on a Wednesday afternoon, all the while hiding the book behind his back with strained knuckles. Ben wouldn't have minded in the slightest, but that wasn't Harry's problem. The secrecy all stemmed from something in him, a self-consciousness so crippling it seemed bizarre in combination with his outward charm, an assuredness that Isabel used to think bordered on arrogance.

After changing into their normal clothes and clocking their hours they trudged through the car park, Isabel treading carefully so that she didn't slip on the icy tarmac and hugging her arms around herself.

"What are your plans for the rest of the day?" Harry asked, his cold hands shoved into his pockets.

"I need to go into town, actually," she told him. "I need to get my niece a birthday present."

"Well I can go with you, if you want," Harry said after a beat, shrugging nonchalantly. "I need to buy a few things as well. We can do a joint shopping trip."

Isabel nodded, and he grinned at her as he opened the door to his car, yanking the handle a few times before the door decided to oblige.

"We need to quickly stop at uni," Harry said, adjusting his bandana as he looked in the rear-view mirror. "I just need to get something off Niall."

"Okay sure," Isabel replied, trying not to sound too excited at the prospect, but she was intrigued. She'd been wanting to look round for ages.

"So your niece, huh?" Harry asked as he pulled out of the car park, one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting in his lap. "You seem a bit too young to be an aunty."

He looked over at her with a smile, cocking his head to the side slightly when he caught her staring. It's just - the way his jaw moved when he smacked his gum, the way his fingers resting in his lap tapped against his thigh along to the music, the way one of his curls followed the curve of his ear to brush against his neck – it was all a lot to take in, overwhelming and absorbing all at once.

"My sister's twenty-six, nearly twenty-seven," Isabel explained, averting her gaze to the windscreen in an attempt to appear casual and unembarrassed. "She had Ruby nearly three years ago now, and Lucas last year. We always knew she'd have kids young, my dad always used to say so. Savannah will start having children as soon as she finds a half decent guy with a pretty good bank balance, he always used to say."

  "I don't think twenty-three's young," Harry countered. "My mum was twenty-four when she had my older brother, but it means that when she had Callum, my younger one, she was forty-one and had all sorts of problems. I think she may have, uh, had problems and stuff between my sister and my little brother."

He coughed awkwardly as Isabel sat there, more than a little taken aback by the amount of information he had just disclosed. Harry was not one to talk about himself without prompting.

"So the age gap between you and your younger brother is what?" Isabel asked, curious. She might as well grasp this opportunity with both hands.

Harry frowned, pulling at his lower lip with his fingers as he looked uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. "I was fourteen when he was born."

"And you and your older brother?"

"Adam is three and a half years older than me," Harry said in a monotone.

"Same age gap as me and my brother," Isabel noted. "Except I expect your brother is a lot more sensible than mine. Getting married when he and his girlfriend have no job, no house, nothing."

Harry nodded, opening his mouth to reply just as his gaze flickered down to the dashboard. He visibly froze, his whole body tensing, mouth snapping shut, eyes widening, and the whole thing was so sudden it was almost comical.

"You all right?"

"I – I might have to stop to get some petrol," Harry answered slowly, gulping.

"Sure, that's fine," Isabel replied, frowning at Harry's worried expression. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," Harry snapped, increasing his speed as his eyes darted around wildly.

She shoved her fingers into her mouth, instinctively gnawing on her nails. "Sorry, I didn't mean to – it's just petrol, Harry –"

"Just be quiet for a second," Harry interrupted, his tone sharp, and Isabel felt her temper flare.

"Jesus, I was only asking," she muttered, but Harry pretended he didn't hear, and they sat in silence until Harry parked up in the petrol station.

It took many attempts for him to undo his seatbelt with shaking fingers, and Isabel watched in the rear-view mirror as he filled up the car, running his hands through his hair every few seconds and gnawing on his bottom lip. When he'd done, he took a look at the total cost and reached into his jacket to take out his wallet. Fingers trembling, he looked through it desperately, before leaning his forehead against the side of the car for a minute. Exhaling, he stood up and walked slowly to the passenger window, knocking on it gently.

Isabel wound the window down, looking at him with raised eyebrows. He swallowed, avoiding her eyes, but that didn't stop her seeing the shame in his.

  "I'm really – I'm so sorry," he stuttered. "Do you think I could ... would you mind if I..."

He looked away, swearing under his breath and running a quivering hand through his hair again. Isabel waited patiently, eyebrows still raised in expectation, hands folded in her lap.

"Please may I borrow twenty pounds?"

Isabel gaped at him, astounded. "Pardon?"

She had half a mind to ask him why on earth he was going shopping without money, or why he thought it was okay to snap at her and then ask for a loan moments later, but one look at his face, lips pressed tight and drawn down at the corners, eyes averted to the floor, cheeks reddening, made the words stick in her throat.

"I'm so sorry," he mumbled. "I just – I'm – fuck." He was barely coherent, his tongue swiping out to wet his lips as he bought himself time. "I'm just a bit tight on money at the minute. I'll be able to pay you back as soon as we go and meet Niall."

He finally looked straight at her, his eyes imploring and so sad and ashamed that Isabel's breath caught in her throat.

"It's fine, Harry," she assured before he could ask again, reaching into her purse and handing him a £20 note. She forced a reassuring smile and he sighed, his shoulders slumping.

"Thank you," he said earnestly, leaning through the window and kissing her on the cheek before marching into the shop to pay.

Isabel slumped back into the seat, playing with her hair with one hand and absently biting the nails of the other. Harry had to be the most perplexing person she'd ever met, a labyrinth of secrets and contrasting behaviours, a whole tangled mess that she didn't understand at all. And maybe it was just because she liked distractions, but she had this inexplicable pull to work him out, to decipher what lay behind the hard concrete of his green eyes. She wanted to spend days listening to him talk about himself and his life, because he did so rarely, but when he did it was undeniably beautiful, his eyes shining, his speech for once unguarded and honest.

"I'm sorry," Harry said again as he got back into the car, arriving just as rain had begun to stroke the car gently. He looked so vulnerable for once, his hair damp from the grey drizzle, his hands tucked into his sleeves so that only his fingertips peeked out, his cheeks bitten raw red by the cold. He blinked a lot in embarrassment, a raindrop tangled in his eyelashes, and when he turned to glance at Isabel it dropped from his eyes like a tear.

She wanted to climb into his lap in that moment, to bury herself in the crook of his neck and leave her hot breath on his cold skin, envelop herself in his arms and grip his citrusy hair in her fists, tell him that it didn't matter, nothing mattered, that he didn't need to look so sad all the time.

But Isabel reminded herself who he was, what they were, and she didn't even have the courage to respond to his apologies, instead taking a shaky breath and saying "Let's go."

~~~

Isabel was waiting in the corridor of the art uni, tapping her boot-clad foot against the dark oak floorboards. Harry had instructed her to wait in the car, but she wanted to see inside and he didn't have the patience to argue with her. For the first ten minutes of waiting outside Niall's classroom, she'd paced around the corridor, studying each of the student pieces on the wall curiously, wondering who had painted them and whether they knew Harry, where they drew their inspiration from. But now she'd been waiting for twenty minutes, and she was bored and certain the shops would close soon.

She was just considering leaving and texting Harry later when it caught her eye. A classroom at the end of the corridor that had the words Fine Art 1 written above it.

Before she even knew what she was doing, Isabel was walking quickly towards the door. She knew it would be empty – Harry didn't have a class today, and it might not even be his class, anyway, for fuck's sake – but she hadn't expected the door to be locked either. Frustrated, she let go of the handle with a sigh.

"What are you doing?"

Harry's voice, so quiet she barely heard it but as gravelly as ever, made her jump.

She panted, staring at him with apprehension, for some reason her heart slamming against her ribcage as she took him in, standing in his corridor in his baggy jumper and ripped jeans and a face like thunder.

"Nothing, I – I