“Noah!” I shout. I’m pressed up against his chest, trapped with the scent of dried sweat.
I drop down onto my knees, getting my head free.
“How was it?” Noah asks, laughing at me. “Was it really that terrible?”
“It was worse than terrible!” I glare at him.
“Don’t worry. Soon enough, I’ll be clean, and we can pretend like that never happened.” Noah grins as we walk up the stairs.
“I think I’m scarred for life,” I counter.
Noah turns on the shower in the bathroom, while I go into my bedroom and change into my fluffy pajamas. I brought a thin set to sleep in at night because I always get hot, but I also brought the cutest purple set to lounge around in, just in case. It’s the first time I’ve had them on since I’ve been here.
I hear the water is still running, so I spread out across my bed, taking refuge in the soft comforter and familiar smell of my pajamas. They’ve been stuffed in my suitcase all week, and they still smell like home.
I decide to text my mom.
Me: Hey, Mom. Just wanted to check in. Sorry I haven’t called this weekend yet. I’m sure you’re out for the day, but I wanted to tell you I love you. And I’m sorry for being, well, a bit of a brat to you and Dad before I left. I guess I was just upset that you wanted me to leave. I love you.
I send the text, my mind on Harry and his relationship with his parents. I’m lucky. I’m lucky to have parents who care about me, who love me.
Mom: We love you too, dear. Actually, your father and I are out this afternoon, shopping for new suits. I’m having a ball. He, however, can’t wait for the celebratory drink after.
I laugh, reading the text. Because it sounds exactly like my mom.
Me: Tell Daddy hi and that I love him. I hope he likes his new suits because I’m sure they’re going to be expensive! If you guys are around tomorrow, can I call?
Mom: Call anytime. Love you!
I set my phone onto the bedside table, realizing how good I have it. But I don’t want to think about Harry anymore. I don’t want to dwell on his relationship with his parents. His relationship with me. I want to go downstairs and watch a movie and forget about everything.
Mostly because how he acted today hurt me.
A lot.
When I come down from my room, Noah is already in the kitchen.
I snuggle onto the couch, tucking my legs underneath me. “You know we don’t actually have to watch house shows,” I say, flipping through the channels.
I hear him shuffling around the kitchen, and it sounds like he set a pot onto the counter.
“That’s a relief. I was hoping you’d say that when we got back.”
“Hey,” I shout at him. “That defeats the purpose of being nice.”
“Nah,” he says, shaking his head at me as he comes into the living room, wearing pajamas. He sits down on the couch beside me.
“So,” I ask, trying to peek, “what have you prepared for us?”
I smelled popcorn the second I came downstairs, but Noah seems to want to surprise me.
“This is popcorn à la Mallory,” he says, pleased with himself. He sets the bowl down on my lap. “It’s popcorn drizzled with chocolate and sea salt.” He sticks his hand in the bowl, grabs a piece between his fingers, puts it in his mouth, and chews. “And it’s excellent, if I do say so myself.”
“You named it after me?” I grin, taking a bite.
“Well, girls are supposed to love chocolate,” he tells me, tossing more in his mouth.
“I think you might like chocolate more than me,” I reply, watching him take another bite.
“No, definitely not.” He sucks chocolate off his fingers and makes a silly face as he takes the remote out of my hand.
I decide to try the popcorn.
And he’s right. The chocolate tastes amazing with the salt.
I practically moan with delight. “Wow,” I sigh, letting the chocolate melt in my mouth. “You’re right. This is definitely delicious.”
Noah flips through the channels until we finally land on a movie. I snuggle down into the couch, holding on to the popcorn bowl. It’s nice, having a night in.
There’s nothing to worry about.
And no drama.
I lean my head back into the pillow.
Noah gets up, grabs a blanket from a basket by the fireplace, and turns off the overhead light.
“Here.” He takes the bowl and replaces it with the blanket.
“Thanks,” I reply, turning toward him.
He sits back down on the couch and stretches his long legs out.
“Are you uncomfortable?” I realize I’m basically hogging the entire chaise section of the couch.
“No, it’s all right.” Noah shakes his head, glancing over at me.
I move over to make room for him, pressing up against the armrest and letting him scoot close enough to prop up his legs.
“Thanks.” He smiles, resting his arm up on the back of the couch, his other hand going back into the popcorn bowl.
I move my gaze to the television and watch the movie flash across the screen. The food in my stomach, mixed with the dimmed lights, makes me realize how tired I am.
Noah’s chest is next to my head, and I can’t help but lean into him.
I feel him tense at first, but after a second, he moves the bowl of popcorn off his lap and onto the couch next to him then wraps me in a hug.
I close my eyes.
“Mallory?” Noah whispers.
I open my eyes, noticing that the movie is over and another one is starting.
Was I asleep the whole time?
I push my hand against Noah’s chest, sitting up a bit.
“I can’t believe I fell asleep,” I tell him, rubbing my hand across my face.
Noah smirks at me. “Um, you’ve got some chocolate”—he laughs, his eyes focused on my lips—“right here.”
I move my hand up to my mouth, trying to wipe it off, embarrassed.
“Stop,” Noah says, his hand coming up to my lips. “I’ll do it.”
He brushes his thumb across the corner of my mouth, pulling at my bottom lip. My eyes flutter at the sensation, my stomach dancing within me.
“Got it,” he whispers, those eyes under his long lashes looking directly at me.
And all I can see is Noah’s creamy face right next to mine. His full lips and dark features only inches away because I’m practically draped across his body.
If he were any other boy, I might think we were about to kiss.
I flush, breaking his gaze.
“Thanks.” I barely get the word out of my mouth when I hear a key in the lock and the front door being pushed open.
In an instant, Noah is standing up.
“Hey, Mum,” he greets as though, a second ago, he didn’t have his arms wrapped around me.
“Hey, sweetie.” She observes the empty popcorn bowl and the blanket.
“Find a good movie?” Gene asks, helping Helen take off her coat.
“Not good enough, apparently. This one slept her way through most of it,” Noah says, pointing to me.
Gene and Helen let out easy laughs. Noah grins at me, and I swear, I catch him biting his lip.
I shake my head, urging myself to wake up more.
“Yeah, I guess I was pretty tired,” I admit.
“We all need a good night in every once in a while,” Helen replies, slipping off her shoes.
“Or a night out.” Gene fondly looks at her.
“Or that.” She smiles back at him.
“I think I might head up to bed,” I tell them, getting up from the couch. I walk into the kitchen, pouring myself a glass of water to take upstairs.
“I think that’s just what you need,” Helen agrees. She rubs my back with her hand before patting me on the shoulder.
“Yeah, the same for me actually,” Noah says, rubbing his eyes.
“Don’t be on your video games for too long,” Helen warns
him.
“Not sure I’ll even play tonight,” he replies.
I can tell that he’s as tired as me. I wonder why he didn’t just wake me up, so he could go to bed.
“Good night,” Gene calls out as I head up the stairs.
I hear Noah behind me, and I turn, looking down at him.
“Night,” I reply back.
“Night,” Noah says.
When I get to the top of the stairs, I stop before going into my room. “Thanks for the movie tonight. I needed it.”
He rests his shoulder against the doorframe. “Nothing to thank me for. I had fun. Good night, Mallory,” he says before turning his back to me and going into his room.
I’m sorry I hurt you.
12:45am
A vibrating noise wakes me up. I roll over and see my phone lighting up.
Harry: Mallory, are you up?
Harry: If you are, come outside. I’m here.
Harry: Please wake up. I’ll wait.
I instantly check the time on the texts, seeing the first one came through almost fifteen minutes ago, the last one just now.
I fly out of bed, throwing on a robe and the closest pair of shoes I can find, and try to make my way quietly downstairs. I’m not sure if I’ll wake up Helen and Gene or if I should even go out front, but I do.
Because I have to know why Harry is here.
I need to know what he is thinking.
And what he wants.
My heart is racing as I open the door and softly close it behind me. I wrap the robe around my waist tighter, wishing I had put on something different.
How am I going to stay mad at him while I’m wearing a furry robe?
Harry is standing on the stairs in front of the house.
“Hey,” he whispers.
“What do you want, Harry?”
“I’m here to apologize.” He puts his finger under my chin, making me bring my gaze up to meet his.
I narrow my eyes at him. “What?” I ask in shock.
Because I expected him to say a million things.
It’s just not working.
I realize that I want Olivia instead of you.
We’re over.
But what I didn’t expect was for him to apologize.
Especially after the way he acted today.
“I fucked up, Mallory. Terribly.” He sighs, looking down the street.
I follow his gaze, finding Mohammad seated on a stoop a few houses down.
“What is Mohammad doing here?”
“Look, I had a really long talk with Helen. She wanted me to either stay here or with Mohammad. I figured since I’ve already been enough of a burden on Noah’s family, I would go to Mohammad’s. His aunt is staying with him while his parents are out of town, and apparently, she would go psycho if she knew we were sneaking out. But he didn’t trust me when I said I was coming here, so he insisted on coming along. How I know he’s a good mate.” Harry smiles in Mohammad’s direction.
“Is this a joke to you?” I ask, crossing my arms.
“No. Not at all.” Harry rubs his hand across his face.
“Because if it is, you should just go.”
I don’t want to be mean, but I don’t want to deal with this right now. If he’s just looking for someone to laugh along with him, he’s come to the wrong place.
“You need to let me finish. The other thing Helen and I decided is that we’re going to talk to my mum about it—together.”
“You and Helen?” I ask, searching his face.
“Yeah.” Harry nods.
“And what about Olivia? You seemed to be completely smitten with her today.”
“Look, Mallory, I didn’t know what to do. This whole day has been like déjà vu. From the guys and Olivia coming over the night before to going out the next day and acting as if nothing had happened. I guess I just fell into old habits, thinking it would take the pain away. I thought that if I pretended I was fine, I would be.”
“I’m not telling you to pretend things are fine. I don’t want that. I’m telling you the opposite. I’m telling you that things aren’t fine. I’m not upset about how you handled what happened. There’s no right or wrong way to deal with that. I just don’t understand why you ignored me today. Why you were so cold. So harsh. You barely said two words to me at Noah’s game. At the pub. You just … stood there,” I say, feeling tears spring from my eyes, “with her.”
I shake my head, not wanting to talk about it anymore. I just want Harry to leave.
I can’t deal with this.
I can’t pretend.
“Mallory, I was wrong,” he says, taking a step closer to me. “I was so, so wrong in how I handled things. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry I hurt you. But you have to know, I don’t want Olivia back.” I notice tears in his eyes. “I want you, Mallory. And I am terrified of what you think of me after seeing me like you did last night.”
I shake my head, fully crying now. “The only person who could get you to feel anything last night, Harry, was Olivia. Not me. So, even if you’re not with her, I don’t think we should be together.”
The words I say hurt me.
They make me feel like I want to break in half.
But I have to be strong.
Because despite what he’s saying, it didn’t change his actions.
“No,” Harry begs. “Look, I was drunk and confused last night. Olivia knew from before. And even after everything, all she cared about was how we looked to other people. She’s the one who suggested I lie the first few times. My mum didn’t know until recently. And what she knew about was not the same as what happened the other night. My mum thought if I was stronger, he would stop. But he hasn’t, and … I can’t keep lying.”
“Olivia told you to lie?” I ask, not wanting to believe she could do that to him—someone she supposedly cared for.
“It’s not her fault. I wanted her to tell me to do it, so I could have someone to blame. I lied because I didn’t have a choice. But she knew the entire time what was happening and still cared more about what people thought about me. If anything, it increased her credibility of having me. Even after I got into fights or got sloppy at the club, I always came back to her. And that means more to her than me. And I know that’s not what you think about me. That isn’t how you feel,” he says, his blue eyes connecting with mine.
“Harry, I don’t know what that changes. I don’t think you should be with her. But I can’t take this either. Seeing you together today almost broke my heart. And I like you—a lot. I really like you, and I don’t want to get hurt because you’re messing around with me. I don’t want that. Actually, I guess I thought I did,” I admit, finally being honest. “You’re fun. We’ve had an amazing time. But I don’t want just fun anymore.” I figure that will be the end of us. All Harry seems to want is fun.
My whole body feels like it’s going to give out under me, and I can’t stand the feeling. Because I want him, but I want him to want me because of … well, me.
He’s nodding his head. “I know. I know. Shh.” He pushes my chin up and takes a moment to wipe away both our tears. “I really like you too, Mallory. And I want to date you. Or be your boyfriend. Whatever you want to call it. I’m sorry,” he says, his blue eyes pleading. “I just … I messed up, and I hope it didn’t ruin things between us.”
“You want me to be your girlfriend?” My heart practically stops. Because I didn’t expect this. I’m not sure how I’m feeling or what I want from Harry, but the fact that he asked me to be his girl helps take away the pain in my heart.
It makes me feel happy. Because I really care about him. And this means that he cares about me.
“Well, yeah.” He shrugs, looking down at me almost shyly.
“Harry,” I say, taking a step back, “it’s a sweet offer, but let’s not rush anything. Why don’t we go from whatever we were … to us dating?”
“Yeah?” Harry asks, a huge grin forming on his face.
“Yeah.” I grin back
at him. “Of course I want to date you. I just want to give us some more time, if that makes sense.”
Harry smiles, his blue eyes holding mine. He cups my cheek sweetly. “I understand. We can date.”
“Yes, we can date.” Harry pulls me to his lips, giving me a deep kiss, and I don’t feel like we’re just dating.
Because it isn’t a light, fun kiss. It’s a desperate one. A passionate one.
When his tongue slips in my mouth, I can’t help but let out a little moan. For a brief moment, I worry about hurting his cheek, but when he takes my waist in his hands, I forget all about his bruises.
So many feelings are rushing through me that I can’t place a single one of them, but I know I want to experience them all with Harry. I push my hips into him, enjoying his reaction when he groans softly into my mouth.
“Mallory,” he says, his voice sounding ragged as he presses his palm against my back, pulling me harder against him. “I thought you wanted to take it slow,” he says as he’s kissing up my jawline.
I want to roll my eyes, but I can’t even manage that because, now, his lips are on my neck, and I can’t think straight. I pull back, trying to take in more air.
I glance over at Mohammad, feeling bad that he’s sitting over on someone’s stoop. But his head is in his phone, and I take comfort that at least our intimate moment can remain, well, intimate.
“I do,” I say, pulling him back to my lips. “The dating part. But definitely not the kissing part. Are we clear on that?”
“Ahh.” Harry’s lips brush along my earlobe and then return to my mouth. I can feel his smile against my lips. “I’m not sure you clarified it before, but now, I think I understand. So, are you saying that you don’t mind if I do this?” he asks, his fingers slipping into my robe and up under my pajama top, sending a jolt across my skin and leaving me wishing I didn’t have to tell him to stop.
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