"I refuse to argue with you in the middle of a party. In front of people!" Harry whisper-yelled, closing the door in an almost slam.

Holy shit. I was safely behind the closet door, but dare not exhale yet. My hand had yet to release the knob that would allow the latch to engage with the door frame and keep the door closed. I held my breath in horror, knowing if I merely let go of the knob, they'd hear it, and I would be doomed.

"I am tired of you flirting with other girls, Harry!"

"Flirting? I was telling her what the score of the game was, for God's sake, not asking her for a blowjob! Which sounds pretty good actually, cause it's been over a year since I've gotten one from you!"

OMG. I needed oxygen. Slowly, excruciatingly slowly I controlled the knob, waiting for the latch to release to its normal position. They were busy fighting, so they probably wouldn't notice a knob turning at an undetectable rate of speed – unless it made a noise.

"Are blowjobs all that matter to you? You know I'm under pressure with all my advanced courses and extracurricular activities. Between student council, and being the resident advisor for my hall," Paige expressed the numerous excuses for failing to orally satisfy her boyfriend.

I wanted to laugh, but at this point breathing was a priority. Finally the knob was secure in its location, and I carefully pulled my hand away. Only then did I take a breath, and for some reason made the sign of the cross like I was in church. I guess subliminally I knew that only God would save me from being discovered.

"You know that's not what matters to me, Paige. Jeez. It's like we don't even know each other anymore. The point is we're too busy to even have any time together. Or – you're too busy," Harry accused. I could imagine him running his hand through his hair in frustration.

I looked around the closet quickly, trying to see the best I could in the darkness. I pulled out my phone, silenced the ringer, and then used the screen for a light. I was in a large walk-in and experiencing some serious closet envy. There were a lot of t-shirts on hangers, tennis shoes, boots, and typical guy stuff. I spotted a pile of messily folded blankets on the floor beneath where his clothes hung. I tiptoed to the pile and sat down. Who knows how long I might be in here? Please, God – don't let them have sex while I'm in here.

Paige didn't like him blaming their lack of time together on her. "I'm the one that's too busy? What about you and your football games, football practice, watching football..."

"I never watch football!" Harry cut in, "So I play and practice. So the fuck what? That's my only activity! You are in ten times as much stuff as I am, and then you always have plans with your friends. If you'd just drop one single activity, or one night out with friends, we'd have a lot more time!"

Obviously Harry was not her priority. I feel around in my jacket, thankful to find some earbuds. I plug them into my phone even though I don't have any music turned on. This way if they catch me, I can pretend to be clueless about the argument.

"It's not my fault you don't like my friends," Paige claimed, as I imagined her snooty face. God, I wanted to punch her.

"Speaking of your friends, you're really one to talk about me flirting with people, when one of your 'friends' is an ex-boyfriend who still wants to fuck you! All these accusations you're throwing at me are probably just a reflection of your own guilt. No wonder I hardly get laid – you're probably shagging someone else!" His voice sounded so sad. Sad but tired.

Oh, Harry. Get rid of this bitch. This was painful to listen to. I quietly pulled my bag of Airheads from my boot and opened a watermelon one, wishing I were at home reading Moby Dick.

"You think I'm sleeping with Zayn? Why does it always come back to this?"

"Because you're not fucking sleeping with ME! That's why!" Harry yelled.

By now, I had a little pile of Airhead wrappers on the floor next to me. How did I eat so many so fast? It was like I was at the movies or something and shoving candy in. Probably nervous about getting caught. Fuck. Hurry and finish fighting already.

"You know what, Harry? I'm not gonna listen to this anymore. If you're so convinced that I'm doing it with someone else, I might as well be doing it!"

I heard something that sounded like a splash, and then the door slammed. Hard.

"Dammit, dammit, dammit!" I could hear a pissed-off Harry pacing around the room.

She's gone and I silently rejoice. Hopefully he'll go back out to the party or the bathroom, and I can get out of here. This was not the solitude I was looking for when I came into this room to hide out.

All of a sudden the closet door was yanked open, my eyes squinting from the light that poured in from the other room.

Harry's lanky frame stood in the doorway in a slightly defeated yet somehow relieved posture. He wore a t-shirt that was once white, and was now covered with a huge red stain that looked suspiciously like the mystery punch from the kitchen. Oh no, she didn't.

I sat completely still in the darkness, cursing the sound of my own heartbeat, which was entirely too fast and loud for my liking.

Harry quickly pulled the dirty t-shirt over his head, tossing it into a hamper to his left, his right hand reaching up to pull the string for the overhead light.

My jaw went slack at the sight of his shirtless body. He pulled hangers this way and that in a huff, looking for a new shirt to wear. And then, he saw me.

Startled, he stumbled over a pile of shoes and nearly fell, but somehow regained his footing. Then he just stood and stared.

"What are you doing in here?"