Ecstasy, Misery

26 | i've missed you

what i've succumbed to is making me numb

oh, i'm just a girl, my apologies

what i've become is so burdensome

just a girl - no doubt (1995)

June 14th, 1998

I think Harry deserves some appreciation.

When I woke up this morning to find that the purple sticky note was still on my nightstand, confirming that the whole thing wasn't some pretty little dream, I couldn't stop smiling; through my morning shower, through getting dressed and brushing my teeth, through doing my hair and putting on some light make up.

Of course I've noticed that Harry has pumped the breaks a little on his mean streak with me and things have seemed different between us the last couple days, but last night really solidified everything in my mind.

I think we're actually friends.

I don't know what I did to make him think I was worthy of such a title, but I'm willing to take what I can get. It turns out I'm a whore for friendship these days after all the fake people I've dealt with my entire life.

And Harry is anything but fake. He's probably the realest, most honest and up front person I've ever met. It's refreshing.

So yeah, I'm happy he finally folded in his own unique way and honestly, I'm a little relieved that our little lessons can continue now with my dignity in tact.

Speaking of lessons and speaking of the appreciation I'm thinking Harry deserves, I saw something in a Cosmopolitan magazine the other day that got me curious.

So, after tucking the purple post it into my nightstand for safe keeping, I grab that Cosmo magazine and flip to the page that I dog-eared to make sure I have the right name for this certain activity that I want to ask Harry about; apparently guys love it and it might be fun to practice with him.

Oh, right! That's what they call it. Not gonna lie, it sounds kinda scary, but hey, if guys really go crazy for it then I'm guessing it's something worth learning about.

So in my loose light wash, high wasted jeans, my pale pink tank top tucked in with a little bow at the collar's center, I walk down the stairs prepared to sneak my way down into his bedroom.

But by the time I reach the bottom of the steps, I can hear somebody in the kitchen and I cringe inwardly, knowing it's impossible to get downstairs inconspicuously with somebody in there.

I slowly peer around the banister to get a glimpse into the kitchen, trying to see who it is and what they're up to.

A smile is quick to return to my lips when I see Harry standing at the stove, focused on what looks like french toast in the pan in front of him, spatula in hand. He's wearing some grey sweats and what I think might be a Blink-182 band tee. His hair is a mess and I can tell from here that his eyes are still puffy with morning exhaustion, barely open as he works on making his food.

This is gonna be fun.

I stroll casually through the living room to the kitchen entrance; he has yet to notice me, so I go in for the kill as soon I step foot onto the tile of the kitchen, eager to see his reaction to what I have in mind.