Chapter 36

I am in some club somewhere. I do not know where or care to know. I sit at the bar with an untouched drink on the table that Harry urged me to get. Music pounds through the room and shakes me to my bones. There are minutes until 2015.

Lights, confetti, and drunk people are everywhere. Harry asked me to come with him here this morning. Today is the first time we've seen each other after the holiday. Liam invited us, Harry had said. So far, I haven't even seen Liam. There are too many people here to find anyone.

Harry left me at the bar an hour ago to do something with his friends. I do not mind. I get sick when I see him. He told me earlier that Zayn was not invited. I made my eyes brighten up when he told me that, like it was good news, but inside I was disappointed. Zayn wasn't invited, so it did give me the ability to breathe knowing I could focus on only Harry. The problem is that after those few days Zayn and I spent together, my mind wanders more onto him than anything else. Especially when I am with Harry, Zayn runs through my mind, and I don't hate it. I encourage the thoughts of him.

I want him here, is the problem. I think about how I would be enjoying this party if Zayn was sitting next to me. If we were talking about things we like and things we hate and about our families and if we were joking around. I'd probably take the drink he would've told me to get, because I would've trusted his judgment on them. He wouldn't have left me to fend off drunk boys at the bar alone. We would have fun, and maybe I would've kissed him at midnight.

Pain runs through me. Maybe I would've kissed him, if he wouldn't fucking pull away.

That day that he spilled his life out to me will not leave me alone. I still do not understand why he wouldn't let me kiss him then, but every other time he was willing and ready. It gives me stress that I do not want to have. I sip the drink Harry ordered me. And it makes me cringe. I push it back on the table.

I force Zayn out of my mind. All I do is compare him with Harry when I let him into my thoughts, and I shouldn't allow myself to do that this night.

The new year is less than five minutes away. I figure I need to find Harry now. I hop off the stool and leave my drink at the bar for someone to hopefully take. I spend a second trying to see into the crowds, but I know the only way to find him is to go into it myself. Hesitantly, I move toward the major group of people that I wouldn't doubt Harry to be in.

I push through the sea of sweaty bodies for some time before I realize trying to find him in this mess is hopeless. I sigh as I get pushed around by people dancing. I decide to return to my seat at the bar, if it isn't stolen by the time I get back. I push myself around, and someone runs into my back. I get shoved to the floor. I quickly get up and dust myself off before I am trampled. God, some people at these parties are so careless. "Excuse me," I sass to the person who knocked me over.

"Watch where you're going," the man says in his raspy voice. I whip my head around at the familiar sound, and my breath hitches as I see it is Harry. He is wearing bright sparkly green "2015" glasses and has confetti in his hair and on his clothes. His look of frustration diminishes when he realizes who I am. "I'm sorry," he says, and he tries to help stabilize me although I already am.

I frown. "It's okay."

He smiles down at me while I try to decide if I am happy I bumped into him or not. Harry starts to notices that we are getting shoved around by the people surrounding us. He throws his glasses off of his face and grabs my hand.

He gently pulls me, and I hesitate. "Come on," he says. I squint up at him, and he nudges me on with a small smile. I comply, and he begins to pull me away from the crowds.

He takes me to a quieter corner by the end of the bar. It is nicely isolated from the rest of the room. The music is not so loud here, and people aren't coming by every second. I can easily imagine what he is trying to accomplish by leading me here. Harry puts his hands on my hips and spins me around to face him. He backs me against the wall and moves closer until his chest touches mine. His body guards me from the commotion of the party happening feet away. "Are you having fun?" he asks with his silly smile.

I scoff. "Yeah, lots of fun."

He smirks. I don't think he heard the sarcasm in my voice.

He slides his hand up the back of my shirt to the small of my back and arches me closer to him. He dips down to kiss me, and I turn my face so he can't. He stops when he realizes he is aiming for my cheek. His head jerks back, and he furrows his brow. When I do not look back at him, he reaches for my hands by my sides."What's wrong?" he urges while massaging my hands with his thumbs.

I know this voice. This isn't his sincere voice. This is the voice he uses when he is fed up, and when he drinks, it comes out more often. It is partially angry, but since he almost always is trying to persuade me when he uses it, he keeps his tone quieter, although it is rough.

I shake my head. "Nothing."

He doesn't buy it, and I didn't expect him to. "I know that's bullshit," he fumes. I avoid his eyes, but he keeps trying to catch mine. After I refuse enough, he stops. His body moves side to side as he shifts his weight on his feet. He does that when he is thinking. He has to move when he thinks, I have noticed. One of his hand leaves mine and runs up to my face, and he roughly pulls my chin up, forcing me to look into his eyes. He tilts his head and wrinkles his forehead. "You haven't kissed me once today."

I shove his hand off my face and it falls to my hip. I close my eyes. "I don't like it when there's alcohol on your breath," I say faintly. I wish that would justify my isolation from him for the entire day, but we both know it doesn't.

He tightens his grip on my hand and on my hip. "Yeah, but I haven't been drinking all day." My eyes dart up to his as his grip on me starts to ache. He glances at his hands quickly, and then slightly relaxes himself, eliminating the pain.

His eyes burn into mine, and I just stare back blankly. Moments like these are what confuse me about Harry. How can he cause me pain while trying to help me? It happens often. It makes me sick that he does both in my life. His frustration and urgency are clear in the wrinkled skin between his eyebrows. I turn my eyes to the ground when his glare becomes too much for me.

I take a breath and release it unevenly. This is not where I want to be. Home sounds like a much better option, and not Harry's.

He runs his thumb over my hand that he holds. I look at him and his face is regretful. Maybe he realized hurting me isn't the way to get to me. He steps forward slightly and sighs. "Last kiss of the year, come on," he whispers in his deep voice. I sigh. I feel like a bitch because of my hesitance, but none of this situation feels right.

10. 9. I lift my head up once I hear that they have started counting down the seconds. 8.

7. I have to kiss him now. 6. I get off the wall and am ready to kiss him by what I feel is obligation. My heart is hardly in it, though 5. He doesn't notice. He seems to relax and he drops his head to hide a smile. 4.

In the corner of my eye I see a man in the back of the room leaning in to kiss someone. 3. He stands out to me, making my cheeks flush and my heart pound against my chest. 2. It can't be him. Nobody invited Zayn, Harry made sure to tell me. 1. The mention of Harry makes my eyes dart back to him. His head is looking the other way, toward the back of the room. He followed my eyes to the couple. Happy New Year.

The crowds behind Harry roar. Couples are kissing, music is playing. 2015 is happening behind Harry. He slowly turns his head back to look at me. He drops my hands and they fall against my legs. "Happy New Year," he says as he turns to the party, and he walks away.

"Harry, wait," I say quietly, but with little effort, and he disappears into the crowds.

The second Harry leaves my sight, my eyes go to the figures in the back of the room. The man leans away from the woman and smiles down to her, some girl I am certain is Delilah. The man turns his face and looks towards me. It is not Zayn. The woman turns around, it isn't Delilah. My stomach drops with a mix of relief and remorse. It makes me happy that Zayn isn't here kissing Delilah on New Years, and that gives me guilt.

My mind is warring against itself, and it makes my insides scream. I let Harry go. I let him go because I thought I saw Zayn. I am positive this time that that was wrong.

I scan through the crowds to maybe find Harry again and apologize, but he is gone. I know I won't find him anytime soon. But I go looking for him.

*********

I wake up with Harry's arm resting on my waist. I sigh and try to close my eyes and fall asleep again. With Harry in bed next to me, all I can think of is Zayn.

I open my eyes and look at the clock when I realize that my attempts to sleep are of no use. 6:37 A.M. I silently sob to myself. We didn't even get home until 2:00 A.M. last night.

I hear Harry groan and he stirs. I tense up; I do not think I can handle dealing with him now. After he left me when I didn't kiss him, it took me an hour to find him, though I wasn't exactly searching the entire time. When I found him, I apologized, but he refused to leave with me, although I was the only one sober enough to take ourselves home. I waited for him at the bar while rejecting guys' attempts to talk to me for another hour. Once I got sick of that, I found Harry and convinced him to leave with me. He was silent in the car, and I knew he was not happy with me. We got home and we went to bed. He was too drunk for anything else, and both of us were too frustrated.

Now I am scared again to be with sober Harry. I know he will remember what happened between us. He wouldn't forget something like that.

The moment he rolls over and lifts his arm, I slip out of the bed. I write a note to him and leave it on the desk saying I left before I put on his plaid robe and my Uggs and leave the flat.

I start to walk around the complex. I pull out my phone.

To Niall:

Can you call me when you get this? I need to talk...it's about zayn

I put my phone away and walk some more.

Nobody is outside. It is hardly 7:00 on New Year's. People are too hungover or tired to be awake right now. It is gray outside, and frankly, too cold for me to be out here. I pull Harry's robe closer to my body and continue walking.

My phone rings, and I do not hesitate to answer.

"Hey," I say to Niall. I talk quietly, trying not to wake up the neighborhood.

He groans. "Yeah, what's up?"

"You sound sick."

I can almost hear his smile. "I'm a little hungover."

"I'll go."

"No, it's okay. Talk to me."

I do not understand why he is awake right now, or why he would help me if he is so hungover. But I take his help, because I need it and I am sure I have done something in the past for him.

I take a breath. "Niall, I like Zayn." I scowl at how childish the secret admittance of that fact sounds. But nonetheless, I do like him, and I am secretly admitting it. So call me childish.

He lets silence ring on the phone. I begin to think that maybe he didn't hear me the first time.

"Say that again."

"I don't want to."

"What happened?"

I find a rock on the ground that I begin to kick as I walk.

"I don't know. He told me about Perrie- things you didn't even know about. He told me about why he needed to find me, and-" I think about how he almost kissed me, about how he rejected me. "-and something just sparked," I say. "I can't stop thinking about him. All I want is to see him." The rock I was kicking flies under a bush. I collapse onto a bench on the sidewalk. "I didn't kiss Harry last night," I mutter.

"You mean at midnight?"

I nod. "Yeah," I say. "He was drunk and I was frustrated. I was going to, but I got distracted at the last second and we missed it."

"What did he do?"

"He was pissed. He said Happy New Year and walked away." I wrap my arm around my waist as the guilt starts to hurt and cold wind chills me.

"What do you feel about Harry?" Niall asks cautiously.

My body sighs and I shrug. "I don't know."

"I know you know," he asserts. "You just don't want to hear yourself say it."

I want to fight Niall. He is telling me the story that half of me knows is true, but the other half of me does not want to listen to. "What about everything he has done for me?" I argue. Tears start to collect at my eyes, and they make the world appear blurry. "He was so good to me. I loved him."

"I know you want to stay with him because you don't think it's fair to leave. But if you are faking it, if you aren't giving all of yourself to only him, then how fair are you really being?"

Tears stream down my face and fall to the ground from my chin. "You're right," I say. I wipe my nose and the lines of water going down both sides of my cheeks.

I hear a voice on the phone call Niall. I can hear him move. "Think about it. But don't do anything too abrupt, please. Call me."

"Thanks a lot," I say.

"Who's on the phone?" a female voice asks in the background. It must be his girlfriend.

"One second," he says with his mouth away from the phone. "No problem, I'll talk to you later," Niall says to me. He hangs up.

I bring my phone down from my ear and put my hands in the pockets of Harry's robe.

Niall is right, no matter how much it hurts to admit it. I am not giving all of myself to Harry. Right now, a lot of myself is reserved for Zayn.

So should I break up with Harry?

We have been together since summer. More than 6 months. All of them have been filled with drama. If the drama was gone, everyone would be happier, I think.

I sit on the bench thinking for almost ten minutes more before I get Harry's text.

From Harry:

Where are you??

I do not get up. I continue to tell myself that I can wait a few more minutes. After Harry calls a second time, I decide I have to go back before he really gets worried. I text him.

To Harry:

I'll be home in 20 minutes