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Kit stared at her hands as Harry joined his friends at the fire pit, feeling incredibly disgraced and alone. Sitting next to her boyfriend on the bench, Harry’s vacated spot causing the evening breeze to tickle against her body, she felt as though she let Harry down. Hearing Ed’s loud chuckle, Kit looked up to see Harry’s friends sharing in a laugh, and she wished she didn’t have Kevin by her side and could join in on the fun. Her stomach fell as she watched Kendall sidle up next to Harry and stick her hand in his back pocket, confidently flirting in a way Kit had never been able to do. She wondered if she should try to be touchy with Kevin, and make Harry feel how she was feeling while watching him with Kendall. But getting Kevin to pay attention to her while he was glued to his phone would be impossible, and Kit didn’t need to feel more humiliated than she already did.

“Yay!” Kendall cheered suddenly as the flame in the centre of the fire pit ignited. She pulled herself away from Harry, rubbing her hands together gleefully before holding them out towards the flame. “That’s, like, so much better!” she determined, turning her back to the fire and catching Kit’s eyes. “Kit! Come get warm!” she urged, gesturing animatedly.

Kit braced her hands on the edge of the bench, trying to determine if she wanted to stand next to Kendall and her hands that insisted on being somewhere on Harry’s body. She looked at Kevin, his thumbs still wildly dancing across his cracked phone screen, before bobbing her head in a slight nod and standing up.

As Kit stepped beside him, Harry’s stomach tumbled. He found himself suddenly sandwiched between two girls, one with her hands in his back pocket and the other with her heart in his. He tried pretending Kendall’s hands were Kit’s, just for a moment in his own mind, but it was a futile effort. The feeling of irritation Kendall’s hands brought on proved too strong to ignore.

Standing next to Kit, her body obviously chilled as she stood rigid, hands stuffed deep in her pockets, was too much to bear. If he could have his way, he would be standing behind her, his arms wrapped around her waist, his chin tucked against her neck. They would share chuckles with his friends but he would be close enough that he could covertly whisper into her ear, the group party fading away into a party for two. But instead, he had to stand motionless next to the best girl he knew, while she stood alone and cold, all because she was an idiot with the wrong person, and he was a cowardly little boy.

“I’ll be right back,” Harry mumbled, downing the last of his drink before shaking himself free of Kendall’s grasp and walking towards the house, empty glass in hand. His drinks had been fairly mild throughout the course of the night, but he was feeling as though it was time to kick it into overdrive.

Kit turned her head slightly, watching Harry head into the house. He hadn’t even looked at her when she joined him, hadn’t spoken a word. She replayed what she’d said to him before Kevin sat back down on the bench, the tone of her voice when she ordered him to stop asking her questions about her relationship. Was he mad at her? Pursing her lips as the back door slammed shut with a noticeable bang, she nodded to herself. He was definitely not pleased with her.

Telling herself to count to thirty before making her own retreat into the house, Kit shifted her weight and stared at the synthetic flame, unaware Kendall was speaking to her until she felt the presence of her gaze. She looked up, startled to see Kendall staring so intently at her.

“I’m sorry,” she apologised with an embarrassed giggle. “I was just thinking… Trying to remember where the toilet is,” she said, uttering another giggle so as to not raise suspicions that she was about to bolt into the house after the boy Kendall called hers. “Be right back!” she assured Kendall, flashing her an incredibly fake smile as she stepped away from the fire.

As Kit darted into the house, the door slammed behind her with as much force as it had when Harry shut it just moments prior. It took her by surprise to realize she was upset with Harry for being upset with her. As much as she appreciated his concern, he had no reason to be mad at her. He could voice his opinions about Kevin until he was blue in the face – Lord knew everyone else did – but he wasn’t allowed to be angry with Kit because she didn’t agree with him.

Stomping like a toddler towards the kitchen, Kit slammed her hand against the door, swinging it open. Harry looked up from the island, surprised by the aggression behind Kit’s entrance. He hadn’t expected her to follow him inside – if anything, he expected to see a giggly Kendall at the kitchen entrance. A smile tickled across his lips, but it quickly disappeared when he saw the scowl across Kit’s face.

“Hi,” he greeted sheepishly, looking back down at the drink he was assembling. “You want to do a shot with me?” he wondered airily, knowing she would say no.

Kit frowned, hesitating for a split second before barging across the kitchen and grabbing the shot glass Harry had just filled. Without a care about the lime or salt, she threw the tequila down her throat, wincing as she set the glass back down.

“Why are you mad at me?” she questioned, the liquor causing a burn down her throat that she desperately wished to rid with a glass of water. She abhorred hard liquor, and tequila was the worst. How Harry could drink the stuff straight was beyond her comprehension.

Dumbfounded, Harry stared at Kit, her drinking taking him more by surprise than her question. He hadn’t expected her to snatch the shot away from him and down it so effortlessly. Truthfully, it was rather sexy. “You… you were supposed to wait for me,” he commented dumbly, tapping the salt shaker against the counter with a nervous rhythm.

“I said, why are you mad at me?” Kit demanded, watching his hands play with the shaker, purposely avoiding his eyes. It was easier to be mad at Harry if she didn’t look at him.

“What are you talking about?” asked Harry, looking at Kit questioningly. “I’m not mad at you at all. Why would I be? I… never could be, you know…” he added, his voice quiet.

Kit’s stomach fluttered at his words and she looked up, meeting his eyes. “You sure stomped in here like you were,” she pointed out, feeling relieved that he wasn’t mad at her, but wondering what set him off enough to burst into the house like a sullen child.

“So did you,” Harry reminded her, pulling the shot glass towards him and refilling it, silently challenging Kit to another one. She was wound tighter than a cobra; she needed to relax and have fun. He would never push her to get carried away, but knew if she did, he would take care of her. He would always take care of her, and he couldn’t trust Kevin to.

“Yeah, because you did, and I’m mad that you’re mad!” Kit rebutted, watching Harry fill a second shot glass. She demandingly stretched her arm across the counter, reaching for the glass.

“I’m not mad!” he argued, pushing the second glass towards Kit, though he was. He was honest, he wasn’t mad at Kit. He was angry with everything to do with her, everything surrounding the party. He was angry she brought Kevin, he was angry that Kevin was who he was. He was pissed off at himself for bringing Kendall just because he was lonely and giving her the wrong impression, but mostly, he was pissed off that the one person he wasn’t pissed off at was taking the brunt of his anger.

“Then why are you yelling?” Kit said, the decibel of her voice overshadowing Harry’s own loud voice.

“You’re yelling too!” Harry yelped, his accusation punctuated with an incredulous scoff. He sighed, holding his glass up and waiting for Kit to lift hers. “I’m not mad at you,” he corrected, tossing his shot back. “I’m mad at… fuck, Kit… I’m mad about your… him,” he continued, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Tequila shots weren’t nearly as fun without the salt and lime, but if Kit wasn’t going to use them, Harry very well couldn’t be the wimp that did.

“I’m mad that he treats you like shit, and you just put up with it. The Kit I know would never let someone talk to her like that, and you just sit back and fucking take it!” The volume of Harry’s voice didn’t subside, and it took him a moment to realise he was shouting his words at Kit, though she continued to stare at him with a raised eyebrow, clearly not taking the intensity of his voice to heart.

“The Kit you knew,” Kit repeated, frowning at Harry. “You’ve been gone for over three years, Harry! You can’t just pop back into my life and start dictating how I live it, you know,” she added, crossing her arms across her chest. She wouldn’t ever tell Harry, but it hurt more than he knew that he found himself too busy for his Holmes Chapel people.

“Like hell I can’t,” Harry shot back, her words striking a chord with him. He constantly wished he could be in two places at once. He wished he was able to spend more time with Tim, and with Kit, and their family. He wished he was able to spend more time with his own family. But he couldn’t, and it killed him. “I’ve known you for, what, fifteen fucking years, Kit? If I think you’re doing something stupid, you can bet your ass I’m going to call you out on that shit! Besides, after everything Tim said –“

“Everything Tim said!” Kit exploded, not waiting for Harry to refill her glass. She reached across the island and snatched the bottle from him, giving him a challenging look as she filled up her glass. The tequila was still wretched, but getting easier to swallow with each gulp. “So you’re just going to believe everything my stupid brother says? You’re not going to listen to anything I have to say? I thought we were friends, but friends actually listen to each other!”

Harry snatched the bottle back from Kit, drops of the toxic liquor spilling out of the top. “Exactly!” he exclaimed. “So listen to me! This guy’s a fucking asshole, Kit!”

“He’s not as bad as you think!” Kit argued, repeating the same words she’d spoken to anyone who had met Kevin and told her the same thing Harry did. She had to wonder, though… what was the common denominator?

Harry scoffed loudly, throwing his head back as he rolled his eyes at her comment. “I bet you can’t name one good thing about him,” Harry challenged her. “And I don’t mean his looks or how good he is…” He swallowed, trying pushing the horrifying thought of Kit and Kevin in bed together out of his mind. He cleared his throat before continuing. “I mean him. His personality, his demeanor. Does he hold doors open for you? Does he wave back when a kid waves at him? Does he bring your mom flowers when he sees her? Does he bring you flowers, for that matter? Because I… cause if he doesn’t… what’s so good about him?” Harry asked, stopping himself from reminding Kit that he did, and would do, all of those things, and more.

Kit was quiet, her brow furrowed into an irritated scowl. “I can open doors for myself,” she finally answered, her voice huffy, though no power was behind them. She knew it was a pathetic reply. “And flowers die,” she added, refraining from telling Harry that no one had ever brought her flowers. If she did, he would, and she didn’t need pity petunias.

“Stop being such a fucking stupid idiot!” Harry snapped, instantly regretting the words he spoke. The look on her face told him he wasn’t the first one to call her stupid. Something about the so-called man sitting alone on the bench outside told him the S-word was a word he used frequently when describing Kit.

Kit crossed her arms across her chest in an attempt to hug herself against Harry’s words, shocked he’d spoken such harsh words to her. She could yell at anyone and not be bothered. She could go toe-to-toe with strangers – cab drivers, fellow students, cashiers – and revel in it, and she would argue with her friends or family just for the sake or arguing. If a word hit a nerve, Kit would make it known. The only person she couldn’t argue with was Kevin, but now, having a shouting match with Harry between shots of tequila, she realised she could add him to that list as well. But shouting at Harry felt different. Kevin would say hurtful things regarding Kit’s appearance or intelligence – cheap shots, to say the least. But she felt as though she’d really disappointed Harry, and his words meant something to her.

“I’m sorry!” Harry sputtered out. “I’m sorry, Kit… You’re not stupid, sweetheart,” he told her, the word coming out of his mouth before he could stop it. He couldn’t deny it felt good calling her that, but he couldn’t think about that.

Kit didn’t answer; fearful she might start to cry if she did. She thought Harry could be right – maybe she really was stupid. It would explain why she was called it so often. She looked down at the counter, huffing out a sigh as she blew a lock of hair from her eye.

“Fuck…” Harry sighed under his breath, stepping around the counter to face Kit. She still refused to look up at him, and it didn’t take a genius to realise how much he’d upset her by his slip of the tongue. Using the same condescending word on her that he was certain Kevin used made him feel disgusted with himself.

“I’m sorry,” he told her again, his voice low as he gingerly stepped closer to her, gently nudging her chin up to face him. Stubborn as she was, Kit stiffened her neck, insisting on keeping her chin down. Accepting her stance, Harry wrapped his arms around Kit’s waist, drawing her closer to him. He exhaled a shaky breath as her body pressed against his, her shampoo wafting under his nose.

“It’s okay,” Kit assured Harry, letting her cheek rest against Harry’s collarbone and feeling incredibly secure in his arms, like nothing and no one could ever harm her as long as she was with him. Knowing she had a boyfriend sitting alone outside caused a pang of guilt to shoot through her body, but she still made no motion to move from Harry’s grasp.

“It’s not,” Harry murmured, allowing himself to tighten his grip on Kit. “I can usually control myself pretty good, but you… You’ve got me all fired up, Kit-Kat,” he told her, a teasing tone to his voice. He looked down at Kit, hoping she would look up at him and see that he was smiling. She kept her head firmly against Harry’s chest, but he could see her cheekbones rise as she smiled. Quietly, gently, he ran his hands up her back, feeling her soft skin on the nape of her neck, and ran his hands down again. She made no motion to stop him, so he continued… up and down, up and down. Neither one of them spoke as they stood motionless in their embrace, neither of them attempting to move.

“Harry…”

“Yeah?”

Kit pulled away from Harry, looking into his eyes as she searched for a way to convey her thoughts into intelligible words. It was no secret that Kit didn’t have many friends. She was close to Charlotte, but Charlotte wasn’t close to her. Kit would tell Charlotte her deepest and darkest secrets, but Charlotte wouldn’t tell Kit what she had for lunch. She needed someone in her life, someone in her corner, someone who could listen to her gripes and actually listen, without voicing their opinions. Standing alone in the kitchen with Harry, wrapped in his arms, she wasn’t sure if friends it what they were, but she knew friends was all they could be.

“Nothing…” she stated after a moment, her arms unconsciously tightening around Harry’s waist as he continued to trail his fingers gently across her back, her head finding the comfortable spot under his chin. Putting her feelings into words was an exercise in futility, and she found herself not wanting to disrupt their moment.

“Kit…”

“Yeah?”

Harry’s voice was quiet as he spoke, Kit’s tight grip around his body urging him on. “I have to tell you something…” He swallowed hard, feeling like a child on the playground. But maybe if he could be honest with her about how he felt, she would come to realise how much he adored her, and how well he would treat her. “I… I really wanted to kiss you… on the stump, the other night…”

Kit’s body trembled at hearing Harry speak the truth she’d convinced herself wasn’t real. She was there; she, too, felt something in that moment by the swings. She tried to convince herself she was completely misled – Harry wouldn’t really want to kiss a girl like her – but now, hearing his words, she knew she was wrong. “I know,” she confessed quietly, keeping her head against his chest, hearing his heart hastily thud against her ear.

Harry moved his hand from Kit’s back for a moment, attempting again to tip her chin up to face him. This time, Kit obliged. He stared into Kit’s eyes, his one hand still running up and down her back, though slower and slower with each pass, while the other softly touched her face. He swallowed hard again. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid eyes on. “I really want to kiss you now.”

“I know that, too,” Kit whispered, the butterflies and guilty pangs a cocktail of emotions inside of her. Every part of her being told her what she was about to do was wrong, but those same parts concurrently urged her on, begging her to kiss him.

Harry let his hand wander back up Kit’s back, gently cupping her cheeks. Finally, he was going to kiss her. He wanted to tell her so many things – about how he’d thought about kissing her since they were kids, how it wasn’t just the holidays that made him feel this way, how once he started kissing her, he was afraid he’d never be able to stop. But, for now, the words didn’t matter. All that mattered was, after all these years, feeling her velvety soft lips against his.

“Everybody, get up, singing one, tw—“ The door burst open as Nick danced into the kitchen, belting out the old 5ive song in a high-pitched mockery. He stopped short when he saw the embrace Harry and Kit held each other in, his jaw unconsciously dropping open.

Instinctively, Kit stepped back from Harry, attempting to hide what they were about to do to no avail. She kept her head down as she opened the fridge, avoiding both men’s eyes as she searched for another bottle of water. Nick interrupting them mere moments before they connected was clearly a sign that the kiss would have been a mistake. A delightful mistake, but a mistake no less.

“Uhh… sorry, guys,” Nick stated, laughter in his voice. He snickered, playfully shoving Harry. “Just grabbing a drink… don’t let me stop you,” he added teasingly.

Kit unscrewed the bottle, taking a long drink as her eyes met Nick’s. “Don’t…” she told him quietly, shaking her head at him. She didn’t think Nick would run out and tell Kevin the predicament he saw Kit and Harry in, but she needed him to know he couldn’t even joke about it. Kit didn’t want to think about how angry Kevin would be if he caught wind of the moment between his girlfriend and the charming crooner.

“Don’t worry, love… Your tawdry little secret is safe with me,” Nick assured her with a smirk, gently nudging Kit out of the way to grab his own drink. He pulled a beer from the fridge and cracked it, taking a swig before continuing.

“Besides, he’s gone now, anyway,” Nick continued, leaning against the counter and staring at Harry, silently telling him that he needn’t worry about getting caught by the muscly boyfriend now.

“What do you mean, gone?” asked Kit, a weight settling in the pit of her stomach. “He left? He left here?” She frowned, feeling in her pockets for her phone before remembering it was safely tucked away in her purse. “Why would he leave?” Why would he leave without me? She wondered, the sick feeling still filling up her stomach. Kevin knew how nervous being alone in the city at night made her, and knew she was terrified to ride the tube by herself at any time of the day. But he left her behind, clearly not caring about her feelings. But while she was cuddled up with Harry, about to kiss him, Kit hadn’t been thinking about Kevin’s feelings either.

“Probably because he’s a repugnant twat,” Nick replied with a careless shrug. He offered Harry an exaggerated wink. “I’ll just leave you to it,” he called over his shoulder as he vacated the kitchen as quickly as he’d entered.

“I have to find my phone,” Kit told Harry, darting out of the kitchen behind Nick. Harry frowned, following Kit. Surely she wasn’t about to let this moment fall by the wayside. He was disgusted with Kevin for leaving his sweet, lovely girlfriend behind at a party without a single word to her, but he was also relived that he didn’t have to worry about the burly man walking in on him while he was trying to make a move on Kit.

Kit hurried into the entry hall, pulling open the closet and erratically pawing through the contents in search of her handbag. Harry stood over her, watching, but she couldn’t look at him. If she looked at him, her feelings of kissing him would return, and she couldn’t risk that.

“Kit… are you… okay?” Harry asked after a moment, watching her frantically rifle though the closet, quickly dodging a shoe that she tossed over her shoulder. He reached down, placing a hand gently on her arm and was taken aback when he felt her body stiffen at his touch. “Kit,” he stated again, kneeling down beside her. “It’s okay,” he tried to assure her, wondering why she seemed so upset that Kevin left her behind. Wasn’t it a good thing? “I’ll…”

She jerked her body away from Harry, finally finding her purse under a jacket. She dug through it, searching to the very bottom before her fingers grazed her phone. Yanking it out, she stared at it in surprise when she realised there was no missed calls, no texts from Kevin. She let out a sigh, her guilt-ridden stomach – or maybe the tequila – making her feel nauseated as she tried calling Kevin. Her call went straight to voicemail, telling her that he had his phone on him, he saw it was her calling, and he chose to ignore her.

“Shit…” she mumbled to herself, pointlessly attempting to call him again. She stared at the phone in her hands, feeling incredibly abandoned, despite Harry sitting beside her. Self-deprecatingly, she wondered what she’d done to deserve such a terrible boyfriend.

Silently, Harry watched Kit attempt to contact her boyfriend, secretly pleased when he didn’t answer. Perhaps being left at a party and not answering her phone calls would be enough for Kit to come to the realisation that Kevin was worthless, and he was worthwhile. But when she tried to call him for the third time, followed by a text message, Harry knew it would be an uphill battle to get Kit to understand Kevin’s true character.

“Kit…” Harry began again, ducking his head as he looked at her, willing her to look at him.

“I have to go,” Kit blurted out, interrupting Harry. She finally allowed herself to look at him, and the sadness in his normally bright eyes nearly made her cry. She knew she didn’t deserve a man like Harry to be anything more than a friend, but right now, she didn’t know if she even deserved that.

“What?” Harry asked bewilderedly. He reached out for her hand, expecting her to recoil from him. Instead, she let Harry hold her hand for just a moment before tugging herself away. “How are you going to get home? Just stay…” he pleaded with her. “We’ll get you home later, just… be with me,” he told her, intending on repeating the word stay, but a Freudian slip causing him to say what he truly felt.

Kit shook her head, closing her eyes briefly. “I’ll… I can’t,” she told him, her refusal a response to both of his statements. “I’ll call a cab,” she added, thinking of the unused emergency Visa tucked away in her wallet. She didn’t make it known that she had it – Kevin would have the card racked up in no time – but she couldn’t think of more of an emergency than getting away from Harry and the deceitful thoughts taking control of her mind.

“On New Year’s?” asked Harry, emitting a quiet, incredulous scoff. “Come on, Kit… you don’t really want to go, do you?” he asked, afraid of what she would answer.

Kit stood up, already searching through her phone for the number of a cab company. The line rang, conveniently causing Kit to ignore Harry’s question. Of course she didn’t want to leave. She didn’t want to sadly ride home in the backseat of a dirty cab and spend the midnight hour alone. She wanted to stay with Harry, to feel his touch on her and hear his heartbeat again. She wanted him to be her midnight kiss, every midnight. But she wasn’t the one for Harry, and the sooner he realised that, the better.

Harry exhaled impatiently as Kit quietly spoke to the cab company operator on the other end of the phone. He wanted to snatch her phone from her and throw it across the room, forcing her to stay. But, of course, he wouldn’t. She wanted to be with Kevin, and not with him. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, he realised he would have to accept that awful fact if he wanted any part of Kit in his life.

Kit hung up the phone, pressing her lips together as she looked at Harry. “They said ten minutes,” she told him, surprised she was able to get in touch with a cab so quickly. “I told them it was for you,” she added, her words intending to be a joke, but her face remaining stoic.

“I’ll wait with you,” Harry answered, irritated by the efficiency of the London cab company. He didn’t think he’d heard of anyone getting a cab that quickly, ever, but the one time he was alone with the girl of his dreams, the cab was practically Mach five-ing to pick her up.

Kit shook her head quickly. “You don’t have to,” she told him. “No,” she continued, interrupting Harry as he was about to tell her that he wanted to. She smiled wistfully at Harry, hoping she didn’t look as sad as she felt. “Go be with your date,” she told him, nodding towards the back yard. “One lonely girl without a midnight kiss is more than enough,” she told him with a short chuckle, hating the thought of Harry kissing Kendall.

He wanted to press further, insist upon waiting with her on the front steps until the cab came, but Harry could tell Kit was upset and uncomfortable. If he wanted any chance of being her friend – and eventually, hopefully more – he needed to respect her wishes, as much as he hated to. “Okay,” he said instead, shrugging dejectedly. He stepped closer to Kit, his hands finding her waist again. He couldn’t let her leave without feeling her body against his again.

“Please be safe,” he whispered to her, pulling Kit close to him, his words having more meaning behind them than just in regards to the cab ride home. Holding her tight, he pressed his lips gently against her round cheek. “Happy New Year, Kit.”

The butterflies caused by Harry’s light peck overwhelmed her, and she pulled away from Harry, her hand on the doorknob. “Happy New Year, Harry,” she echoed, smiling softly at him before she ducked out of the house, alone again.

Notes