11 - With Him, Slowdancing

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"Sorry," Harry mumbled, stepping away from me and quickly averting his eyes. "You just... you looked upset... I didn't mean to... I shouldn't..."

"It's fine," I said, feeling awkward at the wall that had suddenly just sprung up between us again.

We stood in silence for a couple of seconds, not looking at each other, while the music pounded around our ears and people danced either side of us.

"How are you?" he asked.

"Fine. You?"

"Good, yeah."

"Good."

Silence again, in the noisy, crowded club.

Gary appeared again, holding a glass of Prosecco and a bottle of Budweiser.

"What's he doing here?" he shouted in my ear, ignoring Harry and handing me my drink.

I didn't answer; I didn't want to make Harry uncomfortable by talking about him while he was right there. I glanced over at him and was surprised to see he was frowning at us. He had obviously heard or seen what Gary had said.

He gave a curt nod in Gary's direction, and then looked back at me again.

I didn't know what to do. I had been comforted by Harry's touch, and when I had looked into his eyes I had felt that familiar longing, and I hated myself for it. I should be furious with him, but the feeling just wouldn't come. I had taken all my anger out on Louis, and now I just wanted to hear what Harry had to say.

But why? What would I do if I heard him out? Forgive him? I couldn't. And besides, what good would that do anyway, when he didn't want anything to do with me anymore?

I opened my mouth to speak; I didn't know what I was going to say, but I wanted him to stay. But before I could make a sound he turned away, shoving his hands in his pockets awkwardly.

"Take care, yeah?" he muttered, and disappeared through the crowd.

What the hell was that?

I stared after him, open mouthed, and then turned to Gary who was looking at me with a sad expression.

"He - he just left!" I exclaimed.

"Jess, when are you going to get over him?" Gary sighed. "You can't keep letting him toy with your emotions like this. He can't just swoop in and put his arms around you when you're crying over him, and then abandon you two seconds later. It's not fair on you, and you're condoning it every time you let him do it."

"What do you mean, every time?" I demanded. "I haven't seen him for a couple of weeks. And he didn't hug me last time he saw me. He couldn't get far enough away," I finished bitterly.

"I mean figuratively," Gary explained. "He just messes you about, constantly. You're on, then you're off, then he turns up to sort things out, makes some grand gesture to make you fall at his feet, and then breaks your heart again. He's playing you, and you can't see it."

"Why would he do that?" I argued.

Gary shrugged. "Some guys are like that. They need the adoration."

I shook my head. "Harry doesn't want or need any more adoration. He's surrounded by it."

"You deserve better," he said. "I wish you could see that."

I glanced over at the VIP booth, where Harry was laughing at something Niall said, and I watched as they clinked shot glasses and both threw their heads back and downed their drinks.

"He looks devastated," Gary remarked, sarcastically, and for once I didn't have a defence.

I turned away and plastered a smile on my face again. "Whatever. I don't want to think about him again tonight."

"Do you want to go somewhere else?"

"No," I said, stubbornly. "I'm not leaving just because he's here. Louis invited us. I'm just not ready to go over to their booth just yet."

"OK, so let's stay here and have a dance," Gary said.

So we did. We stayed by the bar for half an hour and finished our drinks, dancing along to the music. I was pretty drunk by this point, and Gary kept glaring over my shoulder towards the VIP area. I sneaked a glance over my shoulder once, and watched Harry downing another shot, before I turned my back on them all and focussed my attention on Gary. He put our empty glasses on the bar once we'd finished, and then grabbed both my hands and twirled me around. The room swayed a bit after I'd finished spinning, and I realised I had drunk far too much already, and would definitely be paying for this in the morning.

It felt good to be drunk and silly, instead of drunk and sad. I was enjoying myself for the first time in ages, despite the fact that Harry was only a few feet away, ignoring me. I was proud of myself for pulling my emotions together and putting on a front.

Gary pulled me over to the dancefloor, and we danced to Rihanna, Avicii and Calvin Harris, and then John Legend's All Of Me came on, and Gary wrapped his arms around me and began to sway slowly. I rested my head on his chest and put my arms around his waist and pushed all thoughts of Harry out of my head. I heard Gary chuckle softly, and I lifted my head to look at him, but he was looking past me towards the VIP area.

"What are you laughing at?" I asked, but he smirked, before looking down at me.

"Nothing," he smiled.

"Come on, tell me," I smiled back, but he shook his head, still smiling.

"You're beautiful, Jess," he said softly, brushing my hair back from my face and tucking it behind my ear.

My face dropped as the familiar gesture reminded me so much of Harry, but as Gary leant towards me I suddenly realised he had misinterpreted my expression. His face was close to mine now, and I gently pulled back, not wanting to embarrass him but not wanting this kiss to happen.

"Jess."

Gary pulled back suddenly and I snapped my head around to see Harry standing next to us, his face white and his eyes bloodshot. He was drunk.

"Can we talk?"

"She's busy," Gary snapped, but Harry's eyes didn't leave mine.

"I'm busy," I echoed, and Gary's arms tightened around my waist.

"It's important," he said.

"Course it is." Gary rolled his eyes.

"What about?" I asked, nervously.

"In private?" Harry said, darting a brief glance at Gary.

I hesitated. I knew this just proved Gary right, that Harry could just appear and click his fingers and I would go running. But I still craved these answers I knew he held, and deep down I knew I would never be able to move on if he didn't give them to me.

"Five minutes," I relented, and Gary sighed and released me from his arms.

Harry turned and walked back to the VIP section, me in tow, and Gary followed us to rejoin the others.

Harry led me over to the corner by the VIP bar, and I looked up at him expectantly.

"Are you with Gary now?" he asked.

What?

"What?!" I asked in disbelief. "You brought me over here to ask me that?"

"Are you?"

"No!" I almost shouted. "What business is it of yours anyway?!"

"It's not, I just... I was just asking. He's a nice guy."

I stared at Harry incredulously.

"What?" he said defensively. "He is."

I shook my head. This was messed up.

"What do you want, Harry?"

"To talk. To explain. I've been a shıt, and I'm sorry. I should have told you everything from the beginning, but some of it I didn't even know until recently, not that it will make a difference to anything anyway, but I want to tell you..."

He was rambling, not making any sense.

"Tell me what?"

He hesitated. "Can we go somewhere more quiet? We can't talk properly here."

"Where?"

"My hotel?"

"Why are you staying in a hotel? Your house isn't far from here."

"More privacy. The paps will be all over my house. We're all staying in a hotel tonight. So will you come with me? Paul can take you home whenever you want."

"Fine," I heard myself say. "Fine."

He nodded and turned to walk back to their booth. I followed, and quickly told Callie where I was going. I ignored her shouted protests, and stood up and looked away, waiting for Harry.

"You ready?" he asked, and I nodded.

As I turned to follow him, I caught Louis' eye and he smirked, sending a jolt to my stomach. I smiled shyly and put my head down, and felt Dale's hand on my arm, guiding me through the throng to the exit.

"There's a crowd of paps outside," Dale said in my ear. "Just ignore them."

"I know the drill," I said, a little abruptly.

The door opened and the clicks and flashes started, and we were ushered left onto the pavement and down to Oxford Street where the car was waiting. The paps were trying to follow us, but Dale was pushing them back and shouting. If I hadn't been so drunk I would have been scared, but the night felt hazy and Harry's presence was calming me. He stumbled as he ducked his head to get in the car, and I giggled as I slid in behind him.

We didn't say anything as the car sped through central London, and we kept our heads down as we arrived at the hotel and jumped out of the car. There were no paparazzi outside; they mustn't have been tipped off as to where the boys were staying.

My heart began to pound as we walked through the lobby with security, and waited for the lift to arrive. I looked at Harry out of the corner of my eye, and my heart missed a beat when I saw he was looking at me. I hastily looked away, and my stomach began its usual acrobatic routine as I stepped into the lift, feeling his gaze burning into me. I snuck another glance at him as the lift ascended and caught his eye this time, and as I stood next to him he moved his hand away from his side, towards me, and brushed his little finger against mine.

The effect was instant. Desire flared through me and I felt my breath catch in my throat. I stared at the gold panel displaying the lift buttons and floor numbers, and tried to think of something, anything, to take my mind off the ache I now felt between my legs. I knew he was looking at me, and that just made it worse. You could cut the tension with a knife.

The lift pinged and the doors opened onto a private floor. Dale escorted us down the hall to a white door, and Harry fumbled in his pocket for his wallet, retrieving the key card and shoving it into the slot.

"Have a good night," Dale said, but I barely heard him as we entered Harry's suite and let the door shut behind us.

The silence was deafening, broken only by the sound of Harry putting his wallet and phone down on the table. I kept my eyes on the floor and stayed where I was next to the door, but I saw him turn to me, slightly unsteady on his feet.

I wondered how much he had had to drink. He hadn't seemed particularly intoxicated when he'd first held me in Libertine, but I wasn't sure how many shots he'd put away since then. He seemed pretty drunk now.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" I began, lifting my gaze to look at him, but I was cut off as his lips crashed onto mine and he pushed me up against the door, pressing his crotch hard against me.

I didn't stop him.

I didn't want to stop him.

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