"Harry, I need to talk to you," I muttered as I sank into my seat next to my best friend. Hearing the urgency in my voice he shot me a look before beckoning for me to follow him somewhere private.
"Look, I have to tell you why I've been a bit bitchy lately-" I began once we were safely hidden (in a storage cupboard of all places, such a cliche) from everyone, but Harry cut me off.
"Is it because you're shagging Mr. Downey but he's married?"
I could only stand there, my mouth flapping open and shut like a mesh door on a windy day.
"How did you..?" I trailed off, sure that my face was as red as my hair. Harry only grinned and tapped his nose, winking.
"Tell me, Harry!"
"Alright!" My best friend threw his hands up in the air as though in surrender.
"It's pretty obvious, Zee. The looks you give each other, the not-so-subtle touching. You're obviously shagging and probably in love-"
"We are not in love, and we haven't had sex!" I cut him off with an angry huff but Harry just looked at me as if to say 'yeah fucking right.'
"At least he's not in love with me," I amended, my blush growing. Harry crowed in delight.
"Maybe you'll get married, have lot's and lot's of sex and lot's of babies-"
"Harry!"
"What? I'm just saying," he grinned before pulling me into an unexpected hug. My chin bumped into his shoulder and his chin rested on top of my head. We stayed like that for what seemed like minutes but it could only of been a few seconds before he pulled away.
"Can I tell you something?" Harry mumbled, not quite meeting my eye.
"Sure," I smiled at him but he didn't return it. Instead he twisted his hands and looked to the floor.
"You can't tell anyone," he pleaded, still not looking at me.
I nodded. Apparently today was a day for secrets.
"Well -" he began but he was cut off by the cupboard door being wrenched open so hard I was surprised it wasn't ripped right off its hinges.
"And what do you think you two are doing?"
Just great. It was Blondie, Harry's somewhat possessive girlfriend/fuck buddy. I'd never spoken to her but I couldn't forget the look she gave me when I tried to pair up with Harry that day we practiced Romeo and Juliet. The day I kissed Mr. Downey.
"Delilah, we were just talking-" Harry started but was cut off by a long, skinny arm grabbing him around the scruff of his neck and yanking him out the cupboard.
"Are you dumping me for this slag?" Delilah demanded.
Slag?!
"Hey I'm not a slag-"
"You so are-"
"How dare you-"
"That's enough!"
Our bickering came to an abrupt halt, the both of us turning to look at Harry who was red-faced and panting.
"That's enough," he repeated, "and Delilah - I am dumping you, but not because I want to date Ziva."
Delilah's face contorted into a hideous snarl at his words and she growled, low and feral in the back of her throat.
"You can't dump me." Her voice was dangerously low and I was suddenly terrified that she would kill us both.
"I can," Harry snapped, oblivious to the look on his girlfriend's face, "because I don't want to be with you anymore."
"And why is that?"
Delilah inched closer, hands curled into claws. I gulped, feeling very much like a third wheel in some sort of twisted reality TV show.
"I don't want to be with you anymore," Harry said, "because I'm gay."
Oh.
My.
Lord.
Delilah took a step back.
I took one forward.
Harry didn't move an inch.
And then-
"You can have him."
With a huff, Delilah directed that last snarky remark directly at me and stalked off down the corridor, long blonde hair swinging as she went.
The two of us, Harry and I, watched her go before turning to look at each other.
And simultaneously burst into peals of uncontrollable laughter.
"That went well," Harry sniggered and I couldn't help but snort out a laugh.
"Now I know what you wanted to tell me."
"True," Harry smiled, his eyes crinkling, "but I doubt it'll stay a secret for much longer."
"Secrets never do," I shrugged and a sudden fear settled in my belly.
And I had one hell of a secret.