Appeal Denied

2018-NYC-45: Order for Discovery

June 22, 2018

I have no clue how long we stare into each other's eyes. My mouth goes dry, and my hand trembles. It's been months. How is it possible that I'm having this reaction? Fuck. Last night I made peace with him no longer being in my life. Tonight I'm trembling like a newborn kitten getting a first bath.

"You came," he breathes out.

"Yeah," I agree stupidly. The door clicks shut, and I become aware that we are alone. Looks like Jeffrey and Glenne aren't planning to rescue me.

Harry stands opposite me, his stage costume fitting him perfectly as the sweat drips around his hairline. The water bottle in my hand becomes heavy, and I lift it to my mouth to take a drink, not removing my eyes from him. I miscalculate though, apparently breathing at the same time I swallow, and the water drifts into my lungs, causing me to cough up a storm. Harry takes a step towards me, and I hold up my hand to stall him as my chest heaves.

He freezes, watching me, a helpless look on his face. As I start to breathe again, wiping the tears from my eyes, he backs away from the coffee table. Removing the jacket, he hangs it on the clothing rack. The tank top he's wearing has some words embroidered on the stomach on his left side, but I can't read them because of the dampness in my eyes from the water episode. His arms are muscular, and I want to sink my nails into them.

Hello rabbit hole.

Warily, Harry takes a folding chair from elsewhere in the room. Sitting down facing me, he peels off his red boots. Involuntarily, I smile, "New ones evidently don't make your feet smell as bad as your old Chelsea boots." My words are quiet. Soft.

The corners of his mouth curl up like the hairs at the nape of his neck. "You seem surprised to see me," he states, his tone curious as his eyes ravenously watch me, flicking over my body, examining me as if I am a long lost favorite stuffed animal his mom is preparing to donate to charity.

"That sounds ridiculous considering it's your concert," I chuckle without humor, "but I didn't know they were bringing me to your dressing room. Just that we were getting some water before I left."

Disappointed, he nods. "I'm sorry if you feel forced. Or trapped. You really can leave anytime you want."

"Can I check out too?" I tease, knowing of his love for the Eagles, but also to cover for the fact that the last thing in the world I want right this second is to leave.

Ever.

He shakes his head with a sad smile, "This is strange, isn't it? I mean, I've dreamed...." he stalls, and I sit up in the chair as though a Chief Justice has walked into the room.

"You've dreamed of what?"

"Seeing you again. Being in the same room with you," his soft voice carries in the space despite the bustle in the hallway. We aren't disturbed, and that doesn't surprise me. I suspect the co-conspirators have placed security directly in front of the door.

I'm shaken. My armpits start to sweat while I feel a chill through my chest, causing me to shiver. "Why?" my voice is barely audible to me, and I wonder if he's heard me when he doesn't answer right away.

"Why have I dreamed of this moment with you?" He finally asks, and I shake my head. "Why what?" Harry repeats.

"Why that song?" Standing up, I start pacing. "And yes. Why have you dreamed about being with me again? It's been months, Harry." My feet trace a path in the floor behind his sofa. "Almost a year since you started dating someone else."

He sighs deeply, leaning back in the chair. "Look, would you mind terribly if we didn't have this conversation here? Might we please go back to my condo or your apartment and really talk about this?"