Anchor {h.s}

nine

“What did he do?”, was the first thing I heard as I came in the apartment.

I rolled my eyes and kept my back to Wendy, completely ignoring her comment. I unzipped my boots and hung my coat in the closet. When I stood up and turned around, she was still there, standing straight, her arms crossed over her chest and an inquiring look plastered on her face. I sighed and walked past her, hoping that she would get the message to drop it. She didn’t.

“Emy?”

“Nothing,” I mumbled as I walked to my room, Wendy hot on my trail.

I didn’t bother closing my door, knowing that my annoying best friend would get in my room anyway, I was right. I went to my closet to get a pyjama while she sat on my bed.

“It’s 6 p.m. and you’re getting your pyjama, of course he did something.”

I hated that she was being so nosy.

I hated how easily she saw the truth, especially when I didn’t want to talk about it.

I hated that I was being so obvious when I was trying to hide how my conversation with Harry had affected me. The worst part was that I wasn't only trying to hide it to the world, but also to myself.

Part of me was touched that Harry cared so much for me and our friendship and that he was being mature enough to do the right thing. Through it all, some of the words he had said had warmed my heart and soothed the wounds our recent agreement had created.

Yet, another, bigger, part of me was devastated by our decision. I was hoping that he was right when he said that we needed closure on our previous 'relationship' and that this time around would be easier, because the last time felt like hell to me. Never had I felt further away from him and it wasn't something I wanted to feel again.

I didn't even know if we remembered how to be just friends. It had been so long since we had been just that. Harry and I had grown up together but from the moment we first had sex together, everything had changed between us.

There was nothing romantic about our first time together, apart from the fact that it was my first time, and still that's far from romantic. We were fifteen at the time and both pretty drunk. I don't even know how it got to that point, all I know is that on that night, I realized that I liked Harry more than I admitted to myself. From that night, I was doomed to the life I was living today.

Our friendship got a little rocky after that moment, because there were words left unsaid. Truthfully, we never really spoke about it, and I didn't blame us. We were teenagers that didn't know how to deal with this type of situation. So we did what every fifteen years old would do and pretended like it never happened.

Because we didn't know what it meant for the other, because we didn't know if the other even remembered it, because our friendship was too important at the time to stain.

We didn't start our friends-with-benefit relationship until two years later, and in between we both dated left and right, never really settling with anyone. These years were the worst as there was a clear physical attraction between the two of us that we both tried so hard to ignore. But there was this one night, the night that I will always remember, the night that started it all, where we both couldn't resist.

-

"I think I'll end up alone," I whispered as I looked at the stars that gleamed above me. They were dancing, just like everything surrounding me.

Harry chuckled softly, his chest rising up and down quickly, making my head bounce around. I laughed too, because Harry was laughing and it was the most endearing sound I had even heard. But also because quite frankly, the amount of alcohol I had consumed made it hard for me to fully control what I was doing.