The Almost Us

The cooler in the trunk was packed with more alcohol than any of us could reasonably drink in a weekend, which meant Louis had packed it, which meant we'd probably finish it by Saturday night. I watched Harry hoist it over the lip of the trunk like it weighed nothing, the muscles in his forearms doing that thing they do, and I looked away before anyone caught me looking.

"That's the last of it," he said, slamming the trunk. "We're good."

"Finally," Hanna groaned from the open door of the van. "I've been sitting here for twenty minutes while you boys played Tetris with your duffel bags."

"It's called strategy," Niall said, climbing into the driver's seat. "You wouldn't understand."

"I understand you packed four pairs of shoes for a two-day trip."

"Three of them are for specific occasions."

Spencer emerged from the house with a bag of snacks and a look on her face that said she'd already mentally organized the entire trip and was now simply waiting for the rest of us to catch up. Liam followed with her suitcase because that's what Liam did. He carried things. He opened doors. He was the kind of boyfriend who made other boyfriends look like they weren't trying.

I stood by the side of the van with my own bag at my feet, watching everyone find their places. Emily and Zayn were already in the back row, their heads bent together over something on her phone. Aria was climbing into the middle seat, her sketchbook clutched to her chest like armor.

And Harry. Harry was walking toward me with that easy stride of his, the one that made it seem like he had all the time in the world and nowhere particular to be.

"You ready for this?" he asked.

I shrugged. "I've survived worse. Remember that trip to Santa Cruz where Niall got us lost for three hours?"

"That wasn't his fault. The GPS was broken."

"The GPS wasn't broken. He just refused to use it."

Harry laughed, and the sound did something to my chest that I refused to acknowledge. We'd been doing this dance for two years now. Close enough to touch, far enough to pretend we weren't. Everyone assumed we were together. His own mother assumed we were together. Harry himself liked to joke that we were "the couple who refuses to admit they're a couple," which was funny until it wasn't.

I wasn't ready. That was the truth of it. I'd been burned before, badly enough that the scars still ached when it rained, and Harry was the kind of person who could hurt you without even meaning to. Not because he was cruel. Because he was careless. Because he didn't always notice when he was holding something precious.

"The couple seat awaits," he said, nodding toward the back of the van where we always sat together. It wasn't official or anything. It was just where we ended up. His knee against mine. His arm along the back of the seat. My head finding his shoulder somewhere around hour three of any long drive.

I picked up my bag and followed him.

We were almost to the van when Chloe appeared.

I didn't know her well. She was in Harry's sociology class, or maybe it was statistics. She'd shown up at a few parties, always laughing at jokes that weren't funny, always standing a little too close to whoever she was talking to. Pretty in that way that felt practiced. Blonde hair, careful smile, the kind of girl who knew exactly how she looked in every lighting.

"Hey!" she called out, jogging toward us with a duffel bag of her own. "I hope I'm not too late. Harry said there was room."

I looked at Harry.

Harry looked at the van.

"There's room," he said. "We can squeeze you in."

Squeeze her in. Like she was an afterthought. Like she hadn't been specifically invited by him without anyone else knowing.

"Great!" Chloe beamed at him, then at me. "You must be Nikki. Harry talks about you all the time."

"Does he."

"All the time," Harry confirmed, and there was something in his voice I couldn't read. A warning, maybe. Or an apology. I couldn't tell which.

We loaded up. Niall in the driver's seat, Liam riding shotgun. Spencer and Hanna in the middle row with Aria. Emily and Zayn in the back. That left the couple seat for me and Harry, the way it always was.

I climbed in first, sliding across to the window. I'd made a playlist for this trip. Two hours of songs that meant something, songs that Harry would recognize, songs that traced the shape of everything we'd never said out loud. I'd stayed up until three in the morning putting it together, and I'd been nervous about it in a way that felt stupid. It was just music. It wasn't a confession.

But it was, a little.

Harry was about to climb in beside me when Chloe's voice cut through the parking lot.

"Harry! Can I sit with you? I get carsick in the back."

I watched him pause. I watched him look at me, then at her, then at the empty seat beside me. I watched him make a choice.

"Yeah, of course," he said, and he stepped back to let her in.

Chloe slid into the seat beside me, her shoulder brushing mine as she settled in. Harry climbed in after her, taking the aisle seat, which meant he was next to Chloe, which meant he wasn't next to me, which meant the couple seat wasn't the couple seat anymore.

It was just a seat.

"You good?" Aria asked from the row ahead. She'd turned around, her dark eyes finding mine with that quiet intensity she had, the one that saw everything.

"Fine," I said. "Totally fine."

Hanna glanced back too, and I saw it on her face. She knew I was lying. She always knew.

Niall started the engine, and we pulled out of the driveway, heading toward the highway. The first song on my playlist came on, something soft and familiar, and I felt Harry's eyes on me in the rearview mirror.

"This is good," he said. "What is this?"

I opened my mouth to answer, but Chloe was already talking.

"Oh, I love this song!" she said, reaching for the stereo. "But I have something better."

She skipped the track.

I watched my playlist disappear, song by song, as Chloe scrolled through her own music, chattering about this artist and that album, and Harry nodded along like he was listening, like he cared, like he hadn't promised me.

"Play mine," I said, when there was a pause. "I made it for the drive."

"Sure," Harry said. "We'll get to it."

But we didn't get to it. Every time one of my songs would have come up, Chloe found something else. And Harry let her. He let her skip every track I'd chosen, every memory I'd tried to share, until finally I reached forward and turned the radio off completely.

The silence that followed was sharp enough to cut.

"Nothing," I said, when everyone looked at me. "Apparently my opinion only matters when nobody else has one."

I turned to face the window, watching the trees blur past, and nobody said a word.

Hours later, I woke to the sound of Harry's laugh. He'd moved to the back to sit with Chloe, leaving a cold seat beside me that I hadn't noticed him leave. My cheek was pressed against the window, and when I touched my face, my fingers came back wet.

I hadn't even realized I'd been crying.