I’m sitting across from you at this little Italian restaurant Niall picked out — he’s next to Amelia, practically glued to her side, whispering in her ear and making her giggle every few seconds. You’re smiling too, tucking your hair behind your ear as you scroll through the dessert menu. God, you’re beautiful. I can’t take my eyes off you.

Then the waitress comes back over. She’s young, maybe our age, with heavy lashes and bright pink lip gloss that glistens under the dim lights. She sets down our drinks, leaning forward far too much, her chest practically in my face. I hear you shift in your seat beside me.

“Here’s your Coke, Harry,” she says, her voice sickly sweet. She draws out my name, letting it roll off her tongue like she’s tasting it. “Is there anything else I can get for you? Anything at all?”

I glance up at her, eyebrows raised. “Er, no, I’m good, thanks.”

She smiles wider, ignoring the awkwardness in my voice. “Well, if you need… anything… I’ll be right here.”

I hear Niall snort under his breath, and Amelia shoots me a sympathetic look. You’re staring down at your menu, lips pressed together, and I feel my chest tighten.