I hadn’t worn it since yesterday at Paulie’s. Weird, but I didn’t question it. I was too pissed to care.
Stumbling as I got back to the sofa, I tipped to the left as I fell, the back of my head thumping against the armrest, feet kicked up over the other.
I stared at the screen, Harry’s name and his texts right there. I made sure I could always see texts as soon as they arrived. Icouldn’t be arsed going through a lock screen, especially if I was drunk or horny.
Behind the texts was a picture of Harry, Molly, and me in front of the Eiffel tower, all lit up for Christmas. It was only six months ago, but so much had changed already. I’d bought the weekend trip as a gift for them. It was the most fun the three of us had had all year, and we each had the photo as our lock screens.
I turned the phone around in my hands, pretty sure it was too small, but if it was Harry, I wasn’t going to ignore him.
I clicked it instantly, opening up his chat box with four messages.
Hi, I’ve been thinking of the best way to say this since I last saw you.
I was really upset when you left
And I miss you.
Even if you don’t get this text, I want you to know you’re still the most important person in my life, whatever you might think.
I couldn’t wrap my head around what he was saying.
I mean, yeah, I was a dick leaving the pub early, but I didn’t think he would respond like this. It was just a hard-on, I was pretty sure that wasn’t enough for him to talk like our friendship was over.
I needed to talk about it, and you just left. Do you know how much that hurt?
I looked at the screen, reading the message again. I couldn’t figure out what was so special about it. Like, yeah, my cock was amazing, but he was hurt over it?
Though I guess he’d revealed his engagement to the rest of his friends and me, his best man, had fucked off just because he got a stiffy.
Then why didn’t you tell me that later?
Harry could have easily texted me yesterday. He should know I’d apologise and then be a sap by doing something like cooking him a meal just to say sorry. I hated it when he was annoyed or upset, especially if it was my fault, and I always made it up to him as fast as possible.
I would have, but you left so quickly. I was really tired, and I wasn’t thinking properly. And was there anything I could have said to make you stay?
I dropped my chin, closing my eyes and letting out a long breath. I didn’t know what he wanted here, and the point of the conversation. But I was too tipsy, furious at Sally, and still frustrated with him for proposing to someone he argued with all the time.
My levels of fucks were so low I just decided to go for it. My thumbs were moving before I had time to think.
No, but I could have told you how gorgeous you looked with beer dripping down your chin.
I could have said then that I was so turned on that I wanted to fuck you right there on the table.
I clutched the phone, heart in my throat, waiting for a reply. There were stupid nerves fluttering in my stomach as I waited for something, anything from him. Even if it was just him telling me to fuck off and that I’d gone too far.
There was too much time between texts, so I tried again
I’m sorry. I left because I wanted you so much. But I couldn’t tell you.
I groaned, knowing I was a fucking moron. Making decisions when I was drunk and angry was never a good shout.
Really? Why do you think you couldn’t tell me?
You know I feel the same.
I really didn’t know what I thought anymore. I couldn’t remember a recent time that Harry gave me any clues about how he felt. Apart from his frustrated blushing as he held back his laughs when I flirted, there wasn’t anything to suggest he wanted more.
But why not? If I could fuck him into submission, maybe he'd realise there was more to life than heterosexuality. Especially the kind that didn't make him bloody happy.