Treasure [h.s]

| 14 - House Of Mirrors |

Is this our second date? Or our third? I don't know, but I'm fucking nervous.

For a lot of reasons really. Not all of my nerves are bad, in fact, I'm kind of excited to go somewhere with him again. He keeps taking me to places that don't match the vibe of Vegas at all, at least not what I thought it was. I expected the entire thing to be nightclubs and drugs but he's proven me wrong time and time again.

I like the feeling he keeps giving me. I know I'm too forgiving. I don't like to see people sad because of me. Was it smart to agree to go to lunch with him? Probably not. Was it smart to then agree to go out somewhere tonight? Definitely not.

But he keeps drawing me into him and I just can't tell him no when he starts with his touching and sweet fucking mouth. I'm not as strong as I claim to be apparently because it takes no effort for me to cave.

As much as I enjoy him, the logical part of me is incredibly nervous that he's going to disappear again, and I don't know if I can handle that. He hurt me when he did it the first time and the type of hurt he left is something that I've felt for a majority of my life already. I don't need it from him too.

As silly as it sounds, I don't have many people in my life that make me happy. Actually, it's just Grace. She's all I have, and while that choice was intentional, it doesn't make it any less difficult when someone else comes and goes like it's nothing.

I crave validation and I don't like to be left like my existence is transactional and not something people genuinely want. I already meant nothing to the people who put me on this earth, and I can't think about the fact that no one else here wants me either. I don't know if I like Harry or the feelings that come with him, but I can't deny to myself that I want to keep feeling them.

"What're you thinking about over there, pretty girl?" Harry's thumb is grazing over my thigh and his smooth voice sends a chill through my body, goosebumps erupting on my skin.

"Honestly?" I turn to look at him, my eyes previously focused on the sky starting to set.

"Lay it on me." He smiles and glances at me before focusing back on the road.

"I'm worried about tomorrow," I admit.

"Tomorrow?" He questions.

"You know, the after. What happens when we leave here? When you drive away from my house," I mumble, shifting in my seat slightly.

"Well, usually I would say don't think about tomorrow." He sighs, which makes a pit of doubt grow in my stomach because it sounds as though he's confirming my worries.

"Usually..." he says again. "But this isn't very usual for me. If you're worried that I'm going to flake again, Brin, I'm not. And I'm sorry that you have to think about that when you're with me now." He squeezes my thigh and then turns his hand so his palm is now facing the roof of the car. His fingers flutter, inviting me to hold his hand.