Pirouette [h.s.]

chapter 13*

//so we take each other's hand//

//cause we seem to understand the urgency//

"(I've Had) The Time of My Life" -Bill Medley and Jennifer Warnes

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Harry offered, or insisted, really, on driving me home, just like I knew he would. I felt a little like a schoolgirl who just got told that her crush likes her as we drove. Kind of naïve and stupid, but in a warm, nostalgic way. I didn't really mind it. Not when it meant I got to sit beside Harry as his fingers fiddled with mine, singing along to the Fleetwood Mac I played when we got into Mick.

The combination of his touch and his voice and the shared feelings had my stomach tight as I sat in the passenger seat. As we pulled into my apartment lot, I finally spoke up. The car was parked, Harry moments from unbuckling his seatbelt to walk me to my door.

"Do you want to come in for a little bit?" I pulled my lip between my teeth nervously.

Harry parted his own lips slightly, glancing at my lip and muttering a quiet, "fuck," before averting his eyes onto mine. "Yeah, I'd love to. Please."

A spark of electricity zapped in my chest, and I bit down harder to stop the smile from spreading across my face as we got out of the car and headed to my door.

I was a little surprised at my ease of letting him over, but I think it's because he's already been here. He's warm and open and, subconsciously, I am throwing caution out of the window when it comes to Harry. Like I was standing up on the cliffside and, with one look into his blinding light, I slipped right down the slope. And now I'm falling, sliding through the rocks and grass, down and down, back towards the earth.

When you're at the peak of the mountain, you forget that there's a world underfoot. All that surrounds you is the thin air, endless sky, and rock. The problems that exist down on solid ground seem small, in the same way that people become specks of dust the higher and higher you get.

And then, Harry showed up at Dino's asking about those damn blueberries and he joined me atop the mountain. He looked into my eyes, tangled our fingers together, smiled pure sunlight, and stepped right off the edge. And now we're tumbling, grass-stained knees and all. Sliding and falling but I'm not getting scraped up, and Harry's hand in mine keeps us together. We're plummeting towards the earth in our bubble, something more sturdy than glass, more protective. A miniscule avalanche of emotion and fear and vulnerability and trust.

Trust. A funny concept, really. Because how do we know when it's safe to trust; when do we realize that we do trust? I trust Luna, fully, wholeheartedly. I trust Luna to support me, to love me, to stand beside me through anything and everything. And I trust her because she's proven she's never going to leave. I trusted my grandfather to cheer me on, to fill me with love and confidence and warmth. I trust Mom to disappoint me – to pretend to care about my life but ultimately let me down. I trust my dad to work his ass off, to blur the line between work and family, to always be 'too busy.' I trust them because they're my family and that's what I'm supposed to do.

But Harry? I trust Harry to make me smile. To send my heart into a frenzy and calm it down all at once. I trust him to make me feel cared for; to make me feel safe. But why? There's no reason that I should put that much faith into him when I hardly know him, or, I suppose, when he hardly knows me. But it feels like it's what I was designed to do. I want to trust him with my heart and that scares me. Like he's weaseled inside of me, and I can't get him back out. I don't think I want him to get out.