dorothea | h.s.

i scratch yours

I got a text yesterday.

I panicked all morning after reading it, refusing to actually open the message until I had curated the perfect response in my head. But the red notification bubble haunted me all day. I knew I had to answer eventually, but the avoidance of it seemed more manageable in my head.

It was Harry. He was asking to meet up for coffee. I didn't know what that meant.

I hated that my heart fluttered when I read it. I didn't want to be back in this trap, only to have to hurt him again when I inevitably left. He didn't deserve that.

Coffee sounded so simple, but it was anything but that. Coffee could be casual, but it could also not. He gave no details, and when were the two of us ever casual?

It was so much more complicated than the one-sentence text he sent me let on.

But I had to respond. It was casual, even though my idea of that was skewed as of late.

We made plans for today at noon, and absolutely nothing in my closet was good enough to wear.

"So, I'm going to end up going in my pajamas. It's decided," I mumbled through my teeth as my mom passed my room, her basket of laundry sitting carefully on her hip when she stopped to walk in.

"Going where?"

Oh, good.

She would be ecstatic about this, and I almost wanted to lie, but I couldn't not tell her.

I took a deep breath. "I'm getting coffee with Harry."

I watched as her eyes lit up, as much as she tried to hide them. She was always our biggest fan, and I couldn't blame her. He made me happy, which was all she ever wanted for me.

She also always loved Harry. He was a charming guy. Everyone loved him.

"Oh," she smiled, still trying to dull it down for me when she noticed how tense I was. "That's... exciting. What for?" She sat herself down on my bed, leaving the basket on the floor.

I followed and plopped down next to her, my head reaching my palms with a groan. "I don't know! He just asked if we could, but it was over text and gave zero explanation or insight into what he was thinking. I don't know what it is, and I'm panicking."

I lifted my head to pout at her dramatically, and her eyebrows tilted. She started to speak but stopped herself like she had changed her mind.

"What do you want it to be, Dove?"

I didn't have an answer to that question.

I had only ever known wanting to be more with Harry. I liked him from the moment I met him, and I spent years in the band silently pining for his attention before we got together. Even when I left, I didn't want to leave him. I did because I knew I had to, but I didn't think it was out of wanting it to be over. I just had to make that choice.

I didn't know a world where I didn't want Harry, but I convinced myself that I didn't when I came back here. It was too complicated, and I expected a cold shoulder from him, not this warm, open-armed chest he was presenting me with. I was setting myself up not to be hurt by pretending the feelings were all gone. If they weren't entirely dissolved for him, then they didn't have to be for me.