Chapter Text
Harriet opened the door, her smile effervescent at the sight of the pair on her doorstep. Emma felt her friend's eyes flit down to where Knightley's hand rested on her waist, but Harriet took it in stride.
"Hi!! Happy New Year!" she chimed, beckoning the pair into the house, which was beginning to fill with people slowly but surely. Like all parties, an air of impatience hung in the air as if everyone was waiting for the party to begin in earnest. In other words, everyone was steadily getting drunker and drunker as the music got louder and louder.
"You too, Harriet. The house looks great," said Knightley, smiling easily as he threw his and Emma's coats onto the growing mountain of parkas and puffers on Harriet's bed.
"I'm gonna go to the bathroom," Emma said lightly, shooting Harriet a meaningful look. Knightley nodded at her, "you want me to get you a drink?"
"No, I'm good. Thanks, though," Emma called over her shoulder, not bothering to look back at Knightley. Harriet stood between the two. "I should, uh…" she mumbled and jerked her head at her friend's retreating form.
"I'm gonna go find Rob," Knightley said quickly and, with a nervous smile, stepped around Harriet towards the kitchen, where Rob was no doubt bartending.
Harriet turned on the spot, moving towards the bathroom to find her friend, when a shoulder collided with her. "Sorry!" she squeaked, turning to see whoever had just entered her front door.
She cursed under her breath. "Hey, Harriet," said a drawling voice.
"Elton… hi," she said shortly, turning fully to greet her new, somewhat unwelcome, and certainly uninvited guests.
"Harriet, meet Augusta, my girlfriend. Augusta, meet Harriet."
Augusta, a woman with high cheekbones and a slicked-back ponytail, extended a long, graceful arm to shake Harriet's, her gold bracelets glimmering under the dim party lights. "Wow, your house is so… charming. I love the homey feel," she cooed.
Harriet felt her smile dim, and she plastered it back on her face. " Aw, thanks," she trilled, overcompensating for her anger at the haughtiness radiating off the shiny couple.
"Well, make yourselves at home. Drinks in the kitchen and coats on the bed."
"Oh," paused Augusta, gingerly removing her parka. "You don't have a coat hanger, do you? It's just… well, this is Canada Goose," she simpered. Elton grimaced behind her, "it's fine, babe. Just put it under mine."
"No!" she squawked, comically horrified at the suggestion.
"No problem," Harriet cut in. I can hang it up in my closet. Nobody will go in there. You guys go get drinks," and she trudged off, gripping a very average-looking coat. She hung it up and sat down on her bed, pulling out her phone and typing " Canada Goose jacket" into Google. Her mouth dropped at the price.
"Okay fuck her and her two thousand-dollar jacket then," she muttered. Then suddenly, she remembered the arrivals before Elton and Augusta, Emma. "Shit," she jumped off the edge of her bed and beelined for the bathroom, waving hellos to the crowded living room as she went.
"Emma!" she whispered, knocking on the door, her hand resting on the knob. She slid in quickly when it opened, and a phone was shoved in her face.
"Look at this," said Emma, her smile growing as her friend's eyes widened with every text she read.
"You're together?!?!" shrieked Harriet, waving Emma's phone around the small room.
"I guess so… but like, we haven't talked about it in person, so also maybe not? He's being really quiet, like the drive over… crickets."
"Hmm," Harriet nodded, her pale eyebrows furrowed in consternation.
"Maybe he is waiting for you to bring it up," she supplied.
Emma groaned and turned to rest her back against the sink. " Why do I always have to be the one to bring stuff up?! It's not fair."
Harriet shrugged, "You should tell him that; maybe he, um, gets the impression you like being the one to bring stuff up."
Emma's eyes narrowed, "what do you mean."
"Well," Harriet wavered, "I think he is intimidated by you sometimes."
"He texted me all this shit about wanting to be together but then spent our whole night so far NOT SPEAKING TO ME! What am I supposed to do with that???" Emma cried.
"Okay," said Harriet, going into problem-solving mode. We are gonna go back out there, and whenever he is talking to Rob, I will distract Rob, and you can grab him."
"So kidnapping him is the plan," replied Emma dryly.
Harriet smirked, turning to open the door. "You ready?" she asked over her shoulder.
—
"Soooooo," Rob raised his eyebrows. "How's it going?" he asked his friend in a singsong voice.
Knightley visibly slumped over his solo cup Rob had just procured for him. "Bad," he croaked.
Rob frowned, "what the hell? What happened?"
"Well, she got in the car, and her hair was all shiny, and she just gave me this look, and I basically went mute."
"Ah, dude," Rob clapped him on the shoulder, "we've all been there."
Knightley looked up from his feet to his friend. "Really?" he asked hopefully.
"Dude, Harriet thought I hated her because I wouldn't look at her or talk to her… like ever. But when she found out I was just pining for her, she actually took it really well. Girls love pining. Don't worry about it. You just have to be honest and say you're nervous," said Rob earnestly.
"Yeah," Knightly nodded, clenching his jaw in determination. "You're right."
"You are kenough," said Rob, templing his fingers at his chin.
Knightley punched his friend hard in the shoulder, chugged his beer, and walked out to find Emma. What he was going to say, he didn't know yet, but he knew he needed to say something.
What he saw made his mouth go dry, his words shriveling on his tongue. Emma and Elton stood in the dimly lit corner, or, to be more specific, Emma and Elton stood in the corner with his hand wrapped around her waist and his lips brushing her ear as she laughed in delight at whatever words left his traitorous lips. Emma's body angled towards Elton, her face inches from his, her eyes glowing with intention.
Knightley's world had grown very small; it was Emma in that corner, and Knightley could not look away. Not even when Emma looked up through her eyelashes at Elton and then turned her head gracefully to the side, locking eyes with Knightley as she did. A flash of guilt crossed her face before Knightly turned away so abruptly he knocked a drink out of a passerby's hand. Muttering an apology, he rushed to the porch, his head spinning. He yanked open the flimsy screen door hard enough to pull it off the frame, cursing loudly as he tried to close it without success.
He abandoned the door, striding out to the deck, his breath fogging in the cold air. His heart was racing in a horrible, nauseating way. "You shouldn't be so upset," he told himself. They were just talking."
Just talking in whispers into each other's ears. Like all exes do when they see each other at parties. He huffed out a groan, his hands tightening on the railing, the wood's coldness piercing his palms. It was so cold out that it hurt. But the cold outside was the lesser of two evils. He could not face Emma cozying up with Elton again. Maybe he had led himself on. She had made no promises to him, after all. And, had she even told him she liked him back? Now that he thought about it, she hadn't. He had taken her kiss as an honest reply. She wouldn't have kissed him like that if she didn't at least like him a little bit back. And after all they had been through, maybe this was enough.
He cringed as he heard the broken screen door scraping open, his body wound tightly, waiting for her crystalline voice to break through his misery. But it did not come.
He turned to look back at the house, but it was not Emma in the doorway at all. His heart sank. It was a girl in the doorway, also blonde but shorter, with tattoos running up her bare arms. She pulled out a lighter from her pocket and, bringing up a spliff to light it, spotted Knightley.
"Oh hey," she said, "alright if I smoke out here?"
He just smiled tightly, "All good," and started towards the door, not because he wanted to face what was in store for him inside, but because he could not handle small talk with a stranger right now. It was better to be alone in a group of people, sink into the background, and watch the fun unfold around him, an island.
"You want some," the tattooed girl said, holding out the joint.
Knightly considered, halfway to the door, "Actually, yeah," he said. "Thanks,"
"You're Rob's friend, right?" she said.
"Yeah, George," he said, sticking out his hand to shake hers. She shook it heartily, a smile lighting up her face. He realized she had a nice face—not Emma's sharp warmth, but daring and open.
"Nicole,"
"Nice to meet you," Knightley smiled, his shoulders relaxing a bit.
"Likewise," she replied. "So… what are you hiding from out here?"
"Ouch," Knightley scoffed. "Who said I'm hiding?"
"Just a guess," Nicole shrugged. She must be freezing, Knightly thought, taking in her bare shoulders. She wore a tiny black shirt tied around her neck like bikinis do. He could not remember what those shirts were called. Emma would know, he thought.
He looked over Nicole's shoulder through the back door. Emma was gone; however, Elton remained, yapping at whoever was too polite to run away.
"Well, what are you hiding from then?" he joked.
"Oh, I'm not hiding either," she said, her lip curving around the joint.
She exhaled, her voice crackling with smoke. "I just wanted to see what the cute farmer boy was doing out here all alone."
Knightley felt his cheeks flush red. "Oh…" he stammered, unsure what to say in the face of such brazen flirting. "Well, I… oh shit," he stopped suddenly when Harriet appeared in the doorway, her face streaked with tears before turning and vanishing into the crowd.
He sidestepped around Nicole, trying not to notice how her face fell with disappointment.
"Harriet," he called over the music, wrenching open the door. "Harriet! Wait!" He could not see her in the crowd of people. The party must have doubled in size since he had arrived. Since they had arrived. He pushed through the crowd and found his way to the bathroom. He knocked.
"Come in," said a small voice.
He opened the door to see Harriet leaning against the sink, her arms crossed over her sparkly pink top, black mascara running down her face. Her chin wobbled as she fought more tears.
"What happened?" rushed Knightley as he shut the door behind him, locking it too.
"It's nothing," she sniffed.
"Harriet, come on. You're upset. It's not nothing, whatever it is." he replied, leaning against the door, not wanting to crowd her.
"Did you see Emma?" Harriet said, her voice tinged with disdain.
Knightley sighed, looking down at the white tiled floor. "Yeah, I saw," he replied flatly.
"I just think it's really fucking cheap to get your attention by flirting with the one guy here who treated me like garbage." Harriet began to cry again, her tears streaming. "Like, she could have picked anyone else. Why Elton?"
Knightley froze. What did she mean by "to get your attention?" He opened his mouth to ask that very question, but looking at his new friend, he could not be so selfish.
In an effort to be useful, he balled up some toilet paper and handed it to Harriet, "you're right, it's really shitty of her…" he said softly. "I don't know if she realizes sometimes… how her actions affect others."
"She's not a child, Knightley," Harriet bit back, dabbing at her running nose. "You now don't always have to defend her."
Knightley shrugged, feeling more than a little defensive, "I'm sorry I was not trying to defend her. I'm just saying that she is not always the best at thinking about other people's feelings. Sometimes, she makes these plans for herself, and the people around her become collateral."
His own heart ached at the truth in his words.
Harriet deflated. "I'm sorry," she muttered. I can't believe I am making you, of all people, deal with me right now. " She took a deep breath. "I haven't even asked you if you're okay."
"I'm fine"
Harriet's eyes leveled him, "Knightly, come on, you don't have to be fine."
"I guess I thought coming here together meant that we had figured some of the stuff out... between us. But I guess not.
"She can talk to whoever she wants to." He concluded, trying to convince himself of his own words.
"Sure, but she doesn't even want to talk to Elton; she wants to talk to you, " said Harriet, her tears coming slower now.
"What do you mean?" Asked knightly
Harriet huffs, pushing herself off the sink to stand with her arms crossed, facing him. "God, I have to do everything for you two, don't I." Her mouth tilting up into a smile betrayed her amusement.
Knightly stood dumbly, his hands at his sides, eyes wide on Harriet. "Umm"
"Emma wants you to go up to her at the party, with everyone around, and show her that you're serious about her. You guys have been so secretive about everything, which I understand," she added as Knightley opened his mouth to protest. "But she wants to know that it's different this time, that you mean it. It can't just go back to pretending you don't have feelings for each other." She ended.
"You're right."
"I know I'm right."
"So what do I do."
"George!!! I am not telling you that. Figure it out!" Harriet laughs exasperatedly.
"Okay, okay, yes. I will. So you're sure she doesn't like Elton anymore.
"God no," Harriet pulled a face. "I don't think she's ever liked him, even when they dated."
Knightley felt his heart warm, steadily thumping as if to say, "see, it wasn't as bad as all that."
Harriet dabbed at her makeup again and then shuffled past him to the door. "I'm gonna go; thank you for checking on me, Knightley." She put her hand on his arm and gave it a squeeze. "I appreciate it."
"Of course, Harriet, I'm sorry she hurt you like this."
Harriet sighed, "Me too, but I'll talk to her about it tomorrow. I know it wasn't on purpose; it was about you the whole time."
"Still, you're a good friend to her," said Knightley.
"Thank you. I'll see you out there?" She gestures at the door.
"Yeah, I'll be out in a second," he replies
"Ok"
Knightley stares at his reflection in the slightly grime-speckled mirror. Dark blue eyes and flushed red cheeks, his blonde hair slightly curled around his ears. He had never felt that he was anything out of the ordinary; if anything, he felt painfully average, dull, in comparison to Emma's shining features.
"Come on, you got this," he repeats under his breath to his reflection. "She likes you. She likes you. She likes you. Go do something about it."
And with that, he pushed off the sink and opened the door, eyes scanning the room for his what? Not friend, not girlfriend. His Emma.