red herring [h.s.]

19.

Stella.

"Is this what you had in mind?" I asked warily when Harry and I stood at Rockefeller centre.

It was Sunday just after noon. Harry and I had spent the entire morning in bed after a sleepless night and then this morning I finally came clean about Jeremy. Harry was bound to find out one day that I was the girl with the dead ex, but somehow I tried to keep that part of me hidden for as long as I could.

I didn't know why. I wasn't ashamed or embarrassed about it, I simply hated, hated talking about it. I hated talking about Jeremy in general. Maybe it was a coping mechanism and I was very much in denial. I made stories up about him sometimes that he never actually died. I wrote to him. It was kind of insane but it worked for me.

It was stupid maybe to keep up the idea that he hadn't actually passed away. That brain cancer didn't exist, that the doctor's never came up to me with that sympathetic look on their faces. From watching Grey's Anatomy I knew exactly what it meant and that time I had been the girl to sink to her knees in the waiting room while loudly crying and screaming. The engagement ring on my finger felt too heavy after that and I had to take it off almost immediately. I put it on a few times in the days and weeks after his passing, but never again after the funeral.

It wasn't really an actual funeral. It was me, Erin and Logan and then a few colleagues or mates from Jeremy. He was more of a loner and never introduced me to many people in his life. His parents were gone, he had no other family, he never had siblings. It was just him and me. And then it was just me.

And now there was me and Harry. Or something like that at least.

I loved how he showed up for me this morning. I loved how he listened to me. I loved how he apologized. I loved how he accepted this trauma as a part of me and I loved how he asked to stay and sleep together after that.

I had spilled my feelings to him, my heart overflowing with butterflies when he listened to me so well and was so kind about whatever I was feeling about Jeremy. Harry didn't resent me for keeping it from him, he never once looked at me like I was crazy. How could I not fall in love with him.

Me telling him that didn't raise any expectations. I didn't have any. I didn't need him to say it back or do anything, I knew love had different timing and looked different for everyone. He didn't run for the hills after my confession of feelings so at least that was something.

We fell asleep after that clinging to each other. Harry claiming he wasn't a cuddler was a big fat lie. I woke up with his face pressed into my neck and his arms tight around me. We woke up slowly after that, tangled together and pressed up against each other.

And then I was overcome with lust and had an itch only he could scratch. So we fucked, hard. And I came twice and it completely fried my brain and drained my body of any negative energy. Of any energy in general honestly. At least for a while.

The shower perked me up and then we had some soup and bread for lunch, before Harry insisted that we went out and here we were. Standing at Rockefeller Centre and watching the ice skating rink we had been on just the day before.

Harry scratched the back of his neck as his eyes fell on the massive queue to get on the ice and he sighed, "No, this was not what I had in mind. Why's it so much busier than yesterday?"

"I don't know," I admitted, "maybe because it's a Sunday? Lots of people with kids." I checked the queue and saw many youngsters and children waiting in line.

Harry emitted another sigh and turned to face me, curling his lips inside his mouth. He looked cute with his navy beanie on top of his brown hair and a thick coat on to keep warm, "I, uh... I wanted to come back here with you. Just the two of us. So you could teach me how to skate."