Stage Lights || H.S.

the odds

Luna

What are the odds we'd end up at the same place? It was like the world was testing me, like it was punishing me for my feelings. It had been three weeks since I last saw him, three weeks since he left New York, since we both made promises to each other, since the best night we'd spent together. Three weeks.

The Nice Guy was packed, it was almost one in the morning and the music was loud, people were drinking, chatting away at the after party for something I wasn't sure of. I got dragged by Tim. He wined about how he hadn't seen me in ages, how I had changed and how he missed me. So there I was, hiding behind a cocktail by the bar.

"He just looked over here." Amy said.

"I don't care."

"Did you know he was coming?"

"Does it look like I knew he was coming, Amy?" I regretted my tone as soon as the words left my lips.

I had promised her I'd get us in to see Niall Horan if she came out with me that night. She knew something was up the second I got home from New York but I brushed it off. I was confused and upset after Harry never replied to my text, and I didn't want to talk about it so she never asked. I could tell she was worried as soon as he stepped foot in the restaurant, she was confused and I could tell she was holding back from jumping up and down celebrating that her idol was at the same party. She held back her happiness for me and that showed how good of a friend she was.

"I thought Styles was your new boy toy. Why are you two killing each other with looks from across the room?" Tim ran towards us finishing a beer.

"Dance with me." I ordered

I thought I knew what I was doing when I pulled Tim by the wrist into the dance floor. It wasn't very big but people still danced to a Drake song. By the look Tim gave me I knew he was very aware of what I was doing as well. I span around colliding my back with Tim's chest and his hand grabbed my waist. I closed my eyes for a second felling the song and the alcohol make its way on my body. Now, besides angry, sad and disappointed, I was also drunk.

Amy shook her head from the bar. I glanced over my shoulder to find him. He sat at one of the tables, his arm around a blonde model's shoulders and his free hand bringing a drink to his lips. His eyebrows furrowed and his eyes burning on me. I opened my mouth wishing I could say something and was brought back to reality when Tim squeezed my hips.

"Is he buying it?" Tim asked by my ear, his breath fanning on my neck.

I broke the stare. "Come with me."

Tim followed me across the room. We walked pass the bar and the tables into the small hallway where people lined up for the bathroom. I pushed a small curtain out of the way and pulled Tim into the photo booth. I wondered what went through Harry's head, what he was thinking and why he wasn't talking to me.

"What happened between—"

"I don't wanna talk about it."

"Luna, are you on coke?"

I shook my head as I typed on the screen, picking the color of our pictures. "Adderall."

"You're a bit shaky, are you—"

Before Tim could finish the sentence, the curtain was pulled open. Harry stood there. His eyes running from Tim to me, emotionless. His hair brushed back seemed to be a little longer than usual, his button up was baby pink and his black jeans tight. He cleared his throat balancing his weight from one foot to another.

"Can I talk to her in private, mate?" He asked, his voice deep almost as if he was trying to intimidate Tim.

"We don't have anything to talk about." I barked.

"We obviously do. Can you excuse us. Please." He wasn't asking, he was ordering, and I could tell he was angry.

Tim shot me an apologetic smile before sliding off the booth and allowing Harry to take his place. He sat next to me and let the curtain fall back to its place, nervously wiping his palms on his jeans. We both sat tense, away from each other. His cologne filing my lungs making it almost impossible to not jump on his arms right there.

"Do you have anything to say?" I asked.

"Yes, I do. I have many things to say."

"You better do it quick. You shouldn't keep Camille waiting."

"You don't get to do this, Luna. You have no right." He shook his head, his eyes traveling on the screen in front of us before finding their way back to me. "One of Matt's mate? Seriously?"

"What?"

He scoffed. "Did you really think my friends wouldn't tell me? That you left them to go fuck one of their best mates?"

"This is about—"

"You come all the way to New York for me. You meet my friends and my mum, and you spend the night with me and a few days later you go off to fuck a random lad you just met?"

"H, I was drunk and it didn't—"

"Mean anything?" He huffed. "Do you understand how that made me feel?" I felt the tears sting my nose. "Was I a joke to you, Luna? Was everything you've said to me a joke to you?"

"We're not together, Harry, and you know that."

"Matt's friend. You fucked him, didn't you?" My lips opened but I couldn't say a word. Harry closed his eyes slowly. "For fuck's sake, Luna. I thought—"

"I was different?" I huffed. His green eyes shinned as he stared back at mine. "I warned you, Harry, to stay away. Here you are, still not getting the memo. If you think I'm so disgusting how everyone says. Fucking your friends, partying, doing drugs... Then why are you still here?" I got up, trying to get past him. "Get out of my life and leave me alone."