by Sybil Smith
"I don't normally open up to people. I don't even know where to start. So…I'm going to let you ask me two questions. Anything you want…" She's nodding her head and I can tell she understands how serious this is. How I'm not even close to joking around. "I promise to answer them. Completely? No, probably not. But I won't lie about anything." I know my promise probably doesn't mean shit to her since she hasn't known me for a month yet, but hell. It's the best I can do to prove that I won't flat-out lie to her. Leave out some things, probably. But I won't tell her any lies.
She tilts her head and I can see the wheels turning. I know two questions aren't enough to sort out my level of fucked up, but it's two more than I've ever given anyone else. She turns her whole body to face me and I catch a whiff of vanilla. She opens her mouth to speak and I'm prepared for the fucking worst.
"What parts of your body am I not allowed to touch? I've noticed certain things make you seem uncomfortable...I don't wish to make you uncomfortable, Roma." She says it in the most sincere tone anyone's ever given me. I know she isn't mocking me. I can tell she just really wants to know. I sigh a breath of relief. She didn't ask why she couldn't touch certain places, just where she couldn't touch. Then I remember she still has one more question and I'm not so at ease. Might as well answer this one first and get it the hell over with.
I turn my head and look over at her. She's sitting there patiently like we have all the time in the world. And I like that. I like how she's giving me the control on when I'd like to answer it. I realize I've sat here long enough so I sit down my beer and trace the scars along my wrists.
"My hands. I don't like anyone touching them." Hell, I don't even like showing them to people. But since she didn't ask and it was my idea, I'm okay with it this time.
She nods her head and her eyes follow my hands back to where I rest them on my lap. "I don't like people touching my back. You've already seen that, though…" Her expression changes and she looks almost shy.
"I'm very sorry about that. I…" Her voice is a whisper now and she looks away. She starts wringing her hands and I can tell she's already thinking of another question.
She looks back and her eyes are brimming with tears. Most women lose a little of their appeal when they're on the brink of losing it. But not Harper. She even makes crying look beautiful. Well, almost crying. She's holding those tears in like they're her saving grace.
"Why wouldn't you kiss me? I'm not very good with social cues. Atrocious, actually. Have I…Have I been misreading the signals?" She bites her lip and looks away again. "I'm sorry, that was three questions…"
I give out a small laugh. I'm a control freak with a capital C and I didn't even register that she had asked three. I was too consumed with how beautiful she looked. With how I wanted more with her than I've wanted with anyone. If only I wasn't so fucked up. If only I could be what she deserved. I wave my hand in the air, brushing off her apology. I do turn my body to face her now. She at least deserves to see me when I answer. Hopefully she picks up on the sincerity in my eyes.
"No. You haven't misread any of the signals. I just…" I reach over and run my fingers down her arm. I need to feel her. I need her to know that I'm not just making up some bullshit excuses. I need her to feel what I'm saying because I'm terrible with words. I can only hope she picks up the depth of what I'm saying.
"I need control in my life, Harper. I look at you and…and I can tell that it wouldn't be fair of me to ask that of you. I'd like to be with you. I would. It's just…you deserve so much more than I can give you."
I reach up and wipe away a tear that finally escaped and rolled down her cheek. She leans into my hand and I revel in the feel of her soft skin, of the warmth. Because I know I might not ever let myself be anything more to her. She can do so much better than me, even if she doesn't know it yet. The corners of her mouth turn up in a small smile. I'd love to kiss them. Feel them. I look back up at her eyes and I can tell she's thinking about something.
"You can tell me, Harper. Ask me, even. You already shot to hell my 'Two Question Rule' so go ahead." I say it with a smile so she knows I'm not pissed. I pull my hand back into my lap.
"Roma, I respect that you think I deserve more than you can give me. I won't refute it since I have no way of knowing what I deserve or what you can give. But, I do want you to know that I'd like to have whatever you can give me, whenever you decide you can give it to me. I don't want to pressure you…I'm going to let you decide if and when," she smiles as she throws my words back into my face, "The pace is up to you, Roma. You're in control of whatever we may or may not become."
Harper fucking Rose, ladies and gentlemen. She has to be telepathic or clairvoyant or something. I fucking love it. But I'm scared, too. I'm scared because I can tell Harper Rose could be the one to help me. The one to save me from myself. I'm not so sure I'm ready for that.
Chapter 4
I haven't had a chance to talk to Harper outside of work since she came over to my house four days ago. It's been a rough week, to say the least. There's something going on tonight that I've been to every year since my run in with Him. I've never shared it with anyone. It's the one thing that I feel like is all mine. It's childish, I know. But it reminds me of my childhood. Of better times. It's like every bad thing that's ever happened to me disappears—if only for the few hours I'm there. I'm afraid to share it with anyone. I don't want anyone to find out and ruin my badass reputation. But mostly, I don't want to bring someone that I'll remember taking every time I go even when they're not with me. To taint it with memories of people that ran away from my crazy-ass self. But today I decided I want to bring Harper. To share it with her. So every year I go, I can remember her being with me. Even if she decides I'm too fucked up and doesn't come back next year. At least I'll still remember taking her. I really hope she says yes.
…
I look over to the passenger seat and see Harper giving me that 'Roma-Raine-only' smile that I love. I told Harper not to wear her best clothes because they probably wouldn't fare too well with where we are going. She listened, but I'm still pretty sure her outfit costs more than I spend on clothes in a year. She's wearing a thin, cream dress with a little lace work around the edges and cream wedges that make her legs look a mile long. It's a simple outfit, and she looks everything but. I haven't told her where we are going and I can tell she's nervous. Excited, but nervous. She keeps smiling at me and twirling her ring around her finger until we finally pull up. She looks over at me and her eyes are dancing like a little kids after they've been told they can stay up past their bedtime.
"Have you ever been to one before?"
Still smiling, she shakes her head. "No, I haven't. I always wanted to go, but my parents were always very busy. Traveling and such…"
I can see a brief flash of sadness in her eyes. I don't like that. Her past is out of my control. Her present isn't though, so I'm determined to make sure she's happy in the here and now.
"Alright, well let's go. You'll love it."
I get out and walk over to her side of the car and open the door. I really wish I could get over myself and hold her hand. I really do. But, I can't. I'll feel weak, vulnerable. Instead, I wrap my arm around her waist as we walk up to the ticket booth. It seems like an acceptable thing to do. She eats it up.
I buy our tickets even though Harper probably has more money than I could make in three lifetimes. I don't like it when other people pay for me. I feel indebted to them…like I owe them something. It takes away my feeling of control. I hate that. I look over at Harper and she's still smiling at me like I hung the moon.
"Come on, you have to see this." I walk us over to the Ferris Wheel and give our tickets to the man. I let Harper climb in first so I'm closer to the opening. I may come here every year, but that still doesn't mean I think it's completely safe. I'd rather not have her fall out when we're at the top.
"I've never been on one of these before, Roma," she whispers and looks over at me.
I
start smiling because I know she's a little bit scared and a whole lotta excited, even though she's trying to cover it up with a whisper. I give her forearm a reassuring squeeze which causes goosebumps to trail up her arm.
"Just wait till we get to the top," I tell her with a wink. I hope she loves it as much as I do.
The seat we're in jerks as it starts to move up and she reaches out and grabs my bicep. I have no problem with her touching me there and she knows it, so she clings onto me for dear life with her eyes closed until we stop at the very top. It's a dark, clear night so the lights are breathtaking. They make you lose yourself. They make you forget about your shitty-ass day to day problems. I love being here.
"Open your eyes, Harper. It's the best part." She slowly opens her eyes and I hear her breath catch. She starts stroking my arm absentmindedly.
"It looks so…the city...look at the lights, Roma. It's beautiful." She's beaming now. I don't think I've seen anything more beautiful than she is right now. Wind tousled hair really works for her.
I'm looking straight at her when I reply.
"Yes, it is."
And I mean it. More than I've ever meant anything in my entire fucking life. I brush my fingers across the far side of her forehead and down her cheek before pulling her face to look at me. Her lips automatically part. I know she wants to kiss me. Hell, I want to kiss her. But, I can't. I'm not ready. I haven't kissed anyone outside the bedroom since before He came around. It's just a means to an end, a force of habit to me. Or has been. I want that to change. I want to change it for Harper. But, I'm not ready to go there and neither is she. She might think she is, but she isn't even close to prepared for my level of crazy. I don't want to kiss her now and scare her off tomorrow. I want her to see how I am, see how much of a fucking control freak I really am. And if she still wants me then, we'll see.
After almost a full minute of me just stroking her cheek with my thumb in silence, she lets out a little laugh.
"I bet you say that to all the girls you bring up here."
I can tell she's joking, but I also know she kind of isn't. I want to keep it light, but I know I can't. I want her to know how much it took for me to bring her here. I want her to know how big of a deal this is for me. I want her to know that I'm really trying. That I'm really trying, for her.
We start to descend and I know I have to get this out before I get to the ground or I never will. Once we get to the ground I know if I say this, she might ask me questions. I like knowing that this conversation will end when the ride does.
"No, Harper, I don't. I've never brought anyone with me before. This is a first for me…I'm glad you came with me."
Her eyes mist over so I can tell she knows how big of a leap this was for me. She gives me one of her famous grins and puts her hand up over her heart. That doesn't even look cheesy on Harper like it does on most girls.
"No. Thank you, Roma, for bringing me."
She keeps her answer simple, even though it's really not. She doesn't say 'thank you for asking me to come' or 'letting me come,' she says 'bringing me.' And that's exactly what I did. She knows I don't like to ask things that I can be told no to. She doesn't pretend that I'm normal. She knows I need the control and she willingly lets me have it. I can tell right now that I want Harper to be the one that breaks me down to the ground and builds me up again. I know it's going to take a while. I know it won't be easy. But for the first time in five years, I'm going to try. I'm going to try and let go of some of that control. And I'm going to let Harper be the one who helps me. Like I said, there's something about her.
I reach over and squeeze her hand with mine, quickly. So quickly that if she wasn't looking at our hands, she would've thought she imagined it. She lets out a small gasp before breaking out in a smile 39,848 times better than a 'Roma-Raine-only' smile. My hands are shaking and I feel a little nauseous since it's the first time in five years anyone's hands have ever came in contact with mine on purpose. But that smile…that smile is definitely worth it. I know I'm not ready to do anything else out of my comfort zone. No, it's much too soon. I don't even know if I'll be ready to do something as simple as that again anytime soon. But, I know that's okay. The look in Harper's eyes lets me know that she understands. It lets me know that she gets how big of a fucking deal that was and that she's willing to wait her entire life to let me do it again. That smile makes my hands shake a little bit less and I can tell that she's definitely the one that's gonna break me. That she's definitely the one that's going to build me back up again. Build me back into someone better than I've ever been in my entire life. I'm scared as hell and I know it's going to take a long ass time and I'm gonna fail more times than I can count. But if it means I can see that smile for the rest of my life, I'm ready.
Chapter 5
Harper's sick. Like 'had to leave work early' kind of sick. For her to leave early, she has to be feeling pretty damn bad. She's just as much of a control freak about her job as I am about everything else. I hate that I can't do anything to protect her from this. I hate that this is out of my hands. Making her feel better and more comfortable is something that's I can ensure, however; so that's exactly what I'm going to do. I told her I would come by after work today to make sure she's okay. I've been to her house a few times to pick her up, but never really inside. Not other than the time I helped her inside after we went out for drinks, but I wasn't exactly looking at her home décor then…if you know what I'm saying.
Her door is unlocked so I walk right inside. I hate that. It's eight o'clock at night, any sick fuck could just waltz right in. She works in SVU. She knows better. It's not safe and I don't like it. I'll have to talk to her about that some other time. I don't think it'd be very wise to dump my overbearing ways onto a sick Harper Rose. That's definitely not fair to her. I'm here to make her feel better, not worse.
I walk through her huge as hell living room and make my way upstairs. It's hit or miss as to which of the 57 doors is her bedroom, but I go with my gut and pick the last one on the left. I open the door and I'll be damned if I wasn't right. Only, once I see Harper curled up in a ball under the covers, my joy at being right kind of dies down. I brush my fingers across her forehead and it feels abnormally hot. Her eyes flutter open as soon as I move my hand. They're bloodshot and red. She has absolutely no makeup on and her hair is all over the place. And yet, she still looks better with the flu than any healthy person I've ever seen. I don't get how she does it. I really fucking don't.
"Hey," she manages to whisper out even though I can tell from the sound of her voice that her throat must feel like fucking sandpaper. She goes to sit up, but I gently push her back down against the pillows and sit on the edge of the bed by her waist. Like I said, I want to make her more comfortable. And it doesn't hurt that I feel more in control with her looking up at me, rather than eye to eye.
"Hey, yourself. How do you feel?" I reach up and brush a strand of hair that had gotten caught on her lip off her face.
She lets out a weak smile. She has got to be feeling like shit. "Not as well as I normally feel. Although, that is to be expected with influenza."
I let out a small chuckle. "Right. Do you need me to get you anything?"
She looks down at her hands like she's searching for the words. She's probably thinking about how in the hell she's gonna go about telling a control freak what to do. And in any other situation, it would be right to do so. I hate being told what to do. It's not how I work. I don't feel in charge that way. But this is Harper. And she's sick. I want to do whatever will make her feel better. Like I said, helping her feel better is in my power and that's what I plan on doing. Even if it means I have to let her tell me what she wants me to do.
"Harper. Do you need me to get you anything? You can tell me. You're sick and I want to help you feel better." She looks up at me to make sure I'm not feeding her some bullshit line. I would never do that to her, but I can tell a lot of people must've said one thing and then backed out on her throughout her life. I
fucking hate that. Harper deserves more than to be left. I may be a lot of things—undeserving of her affection is one of them—but I will never leave her. I'll make sure to tell her that one day. One day when I'll feel a little less weak when I say it out loud.
She's still looking at her hands so I'm pretty sure she doesn't actually want to ask me what she thinks she wants to ask me. So, I do what I do best. I take control.
"Well, since you're not going to tell me…I'm going to go downstairs and get you some water. If you decide you want to tell me when I get back, you can. Promise."
She looks up at me to confirm that I mean what I say. That I'm not just yanking her chain. I guess she finds what she's looking for because she decides to nod her head.
…
I come back upstairs and see she's almost out of it again. I'm no doctor, but I'm pretty sure she needs to drink this. And since I'm such a damn control freak, I gently take her shoulder until she wakes up. She scoots up into a reclining position against the headboard. I see her eyeing the thing in my left hand. I start smiling like a damn fool because I know curiosity is going to get the best of her. Right on cue, she asks.
"What's that?" I unfold my favorite gray NYPD hoodie that I got back when I was on the beat. Back before him. Back before I was seriously fucked up.
"I brought this for you. I figured the fever would make you cold and I'd really like you to have it."
Okay, yeah. Part of me did kind of think about the fever thing when I decided to bring it. But most of me just honestly didn't want to see her in a sweatshirt that may have belonged to someone else. She's giving me this weird look and I don't even know what to think. I mean it's pretty beat up so maybe I hurt her feelings by suggesting she should even touch the ratty thing.