Chapter 4
Jemima arrived at the pub about fifteen minutes later that she had planned. Somehow, the journey there had gone smoothly and there hadn't been any delays or obstacles, since she'd left the Wilkinson's house, of course. She opened the heavy door, felt the thick air hit her like a wave, the second she stepped inside. The place was not filled to the brim, which she was overjoyed by, but there was quite a lot of people there. That was good, she thought. It was nice for the band that they had a public.
Suddenly, a different song started. The music so far had only been the last, instrumental part of a song, but now someone started singing. Even though she had never heard him sing before, she knew immediately that it was Harry. He had quite a deep voice, a little raspy, and he was really, really good. Jemima made her way around two large groups of people, standing around tiny tables, to see the small stage and the band a little better.
Harry was standing in the middle, a little in front of the others. He had a mic clasped in both of his hands, his long hair out of the bun she had previously only seen it in, and a shirt in a really patterned, colourful fabric. It was the kind of shirt where you couldn't really tell if the person wearing it was actually serious about it or if it was meant as a joke. But somehow, -Harry really could pull it off and the longer she watched him on that stage, the more she realized that he belonged there. He was just naturally one of those people who looked cool in a situation like that, and not like someone who was pretending to be an artist or something.
Jemima took a look at the other guys in the band. There was a blond guy, playing a guitar like he hadn't done anything else since the minute he was born. She could just see how much he enjoyed it. The guy playing bass was wearing a sleeveless top, slightly distraught, top; showing off his quite skinny, but heavily tattooed arms. He seemed to have adapted to the washed-up-rock-star-look, wholeheartedly and it kind of suited him. Behind the drums sat a really buff guy, with a buzz cut and a face that reminded Jemima of a puppy. He also had some tattoos on his arms and hands, but somehow they felt a bit more out of place on him, than on Harry and the bass-player. He was a really good drummer, though, Jemima thought, as she made her way to the bar to get something to drink.
She very rarely drank anything alcoholic and was almost always proven to be a total lightweight. She didn't know if it was because she was so tiny or because of she almost never had anything to drink, but in almost all cases, she preferred to drink something virgin instead. Tonight though, she really fancied a beer. It had been a long day, she had been very annoyed or angry at points during it and she just felt like having one. One beer, that she could handle and not become to talkative, embarrassing or becoming that kind of dizzy that she hated.
Jemima got a pint, and made her way back so she could see the stage. There was one small table empty, by the bench that ran along the wall. There, she had a perfect view of the stage and could rest her tired legs at the same time.
After a little while, the couple beside her, seemed to have started some kind of wrestling match with their tongues, and soon, limbs were flying everywhere, a little too close to Jemima's head for her to be comfortable and not be afraid of having her teeth knocked out. She tried to move away, inch by inch, so that she suddenly sat as a part of the group next to her. She couldn't really decide which was to prefer; to basically be involved in a make out-session with two strangers or to sit so close to a group of people, that it would be weird of her not to at least say hi to them. She wasn't willing to do either, so she spent about an hour in this very uncomfortable position, pretending to be so fixated by the band, that she didn't realize she was pretty much sitting on a loud, bad smelling guy's lap.
When the band had finally played their last song, Jemima got up from the bench, faster than what was probably cool, but she couldn't get away fast enough. She went for the stage, but about half-way she realized that she was going to look ridiculous if she just ran up to Harry. So she stayed, right in the middle of the pub, waiting for him to be done on stage and hopefully come down and find her. There was about ten awkward minutes, of her standing in the middle of the room, moving a few feet every thirty seconds or so, just so she didn't look like a complete loser, which she obviously did anyway. Then Harry was finally done with whatever he had been doing up there; fixing with the equipment, talking to his bandmates and about a million other people that came up to them and that he suddenly seemed to know. He jumped off the little plateau and started looking around the dark room, squinting to try and see anything at all. Jemima saw this as her moment to casually wave at him, without seeming too desperate, so she did. After what seemed like a little bit too long of waving, he finally saw her and hurried over, a huge smile on his face.
"You came!" he yelled, to be heard over the noise from all the talking and the music that had started to play in the speakers.
"Yeah, of course. I told you I would", Jemima yelled back, trying to make it seem like she was completely comfortable and used to this kind of scene.
"No, I know. I just didn't think this was your kind of place. You don't really… seem like the type."
Shit, was she that predictable?
"But I'm glad you're here," he continued, giving her a big smile. "Do you want something to drink? My treat."
Jemima waved the half empty pint she still had in her hand and that she had only sipped from for the whole time being there.
"I'm ashamed to say this, but this is as much as I can handle", she said, trying to make a joke out of something that some people often saw as pathetic. Being a lightweight was not considered cool, from what she had experienced.
Harry just nodded, not looking at her in any kind of way for what she had just told him, before he was suddenly pushed right into her.
"Harreeh!" someone behind him, with their arms around his shoulders, yelled. "Oh shit, sorry", the person, who turned out to be the blond guitar-player, said, when he realized he had pushed Harry into someone and that that someone had spilt what was left in her pint over the both of them.
"Niall! What the…" Harry shouted, making himself free from his attacker's arms.
"I'm so sorry!" the guy, whom now had been informally introduced to her as Niall, shouted over the music, again. He grabbed some napkins from a table nearby and tried to dry Jemima's beer drowned t-shirt.
"Hey, it's fine", she assured him, before he would accidentally touch her boobs. "There's like stains of kids food on this anyway, so really, don't bother. It's okay." She smiled at him and he made a face like a lightbulb had just gone off over his head.
"Oh! You're Jemima, aren't you?" She could now hear that he had a pretty prominent, Irish accent, which immediately made her like him. There was something about those that she just loved. People who spoke with Irish accents just always sounded kind and happy, which in turn, made her feel calm and secure in their company. Niall continued: "Harry said you were coming. He was over the moon about having a friend to invite. And a girl, non the less. She doesn't meet many of those, the poor guy."
Harry rolled his eyes, just laughing it off. Jemima thought that with his looks and his confidence, that could not be the truth. And she realized that she really didn't mind. Niall suddenly came to another conclusion and said:
"Oh, shite! Is this going to be a date? Am I just here interrupting something?"
"No!" Jemima almost shouted at him, while Harry answered with a much calmer: "No, Niall, it's not."
"No, I don't do guys", Jemima said calmly, to try and recover from her embarrassing outburst, which had made it sound like she was about thirteen, trying to convince someone that she did not fancy some boy, when she actually really did. She definitely didn't want Harry or anyone else to think she fancied him and on top of that was trying to deny it with way too much protest.
Before things could get too awkward and anyone had the time to comment on that last thing she said, they were joined by the drummer of the band. He introduced himself as Liam and gave Jemima a firm and honestly, quite sweaty handshake. He too, offered to buy her a drink, as he saw what happened to her last one. This time, she actually said yes, because one, she wanted to be polite, and two, because these guys were apparently going to stay and have a drink and she really wanted to stick around and would feel stupid, standing there without one. She chose a smaller beer this time, being careful so she didn't drink too much and made a fool of herself.
They all sat down, around one of the small tables there were actually chairs around. The bassist came over too, with two of his friends that had come to watch the gig. He didn't see Jemima at first, which was understandable, since she had somehow fallen back into her usual habit of trying to melt into the wall as soon as there were people she didn't know around. Harry got his attention, that seemed to be everywhere and nowhere at the same time.
"Louis, this is Jemima", he said. Louis looked around the table and found the one face he wasn't familiar with.
"Hi, love", he said in a thick Yorkshire dialect. She held out her hand, but Harry quickly pushed it away.
"Are you mad?" he shouted. "Don't touch his hand. You never know where they've been."
It took a second for Jemima to understand that he was joking, and by the time she caught up, the two guys had already cracked up with laughter.
That was how the night continued. The four members of the band, plus a few people who had come to watch them and came and left the table sporadically, sat around, having beers and banters, laughing until everyone had had tears in their eyes at least once. Jemima enjoyed it all, but when they all decided that it was time to leave around midnight, to go to some club, she felt it was time for her exit. Harry said he was going with the guys, but when Jemima had said goodbye to everyone and started walking towards the tube station, she heard someone come running after her and when she turned around, there he was.
"I couldn't let you go home all by yourself", he explained. "Don't know what I was thinking, that's a really shitty thing to do."
"Oh, you don't have to", Jemima assured him. She didn't want him to miss out on something because of her.
"Well, first of all, I do. And I want to. Not to insult you or undermine you or anything, I think you're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. But I mean, a guy shouldn't lure a girl all the way to Camden and then let her take the tube home all by herself. That's not cool, ok. So let me just do that."
"And what else?" He looked at her, confused. "You said 'First of all'. That means there's a second reason."
"Ok, grammar police", he said, now laughing. She could see his breath because the air was so cold. "Well, secondly, I really didn't want to go. I mean, I love them, but I'm shattered. I just want to go home to my bed."
They both started laughing and didn't really stop until they sat down on the tube. She was surprised at how easy it was, talking to Harry. That never really happened to her. Them giggling like little girls, ended as soon as they sat down though. After only a few seconds, Jemima felt how extremely tired she was and Harry looked like he was about as close to falling asleep himself.
They were in an almost empty carriage, only a few teenagers, who looked way too young to be out this late, sat at the other end of it. Harry put his feet up on the seat beside her and looked at her. He seemed that kind of unashamed as you only get from alcohol or no sleep.
"When you said…", he started, slowly. "When you said you don't do guys… Are you gay?"
Jemima couldn't help that a little laughter slip out of her. She hadn't thought about it, but of course that's how people was going to interpret that.
"No, I'm not", she said. "Would it be a problem if I was?"
She felt like it was best to check homophobe off the list right now, if that was the case, but he just answered, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"No, of course not. What do you take me for?" he smiled a little and she smiled back.
"No, I mean…" she tried do choose her words carefully. "I mean I don't do guys or girls. No animals or plants either, if you were worried about that. I don't really want that in my life."
"So… none of it?" he looked a little confused, but like he was just interested and wanted more explanations to how she worked.
"No", she continued. "I mean, I did have a boyfriend and I've had sex and all that. But it got… messy, to say the least. I'll tell you another time, I don't want to get into it now. And so I chose that it's not something I want anymore and I'm perfectly happy the way things are."
"Okay, that's really cool. I mean it", he said, when she gave him a doubtful look. "Really. It's good that you, or anyone, can decide exactly how to life your life and not conform to societies norms. It's good."
"Thanks", she said and that was the end of that conversation. She was glad she had it out of the way. That way all cards were on the table and he wouldn't expect anything from her.
