Afterlife: Reincarnation

27

June 18

HARRY

My fingers paused on the keyboard for a moment, my vision blurring as my eyes squinted from the force of the yawn that overtook me. My body was tired, aching and sore from not just one, but two runs I had pushed it through today. And even though my eyes were weary, frequent yawns leaving me, I just couldn't seem to relax enough to find sleep.

It was well after midnight, and even though I had come to bed hours before, I had laid in the darkness, eyes wide, my mind busy. For some reason, I just couldn't calm, my hands twisting together, my feet sliding against the clean sheets, my teeth gnawing on my bottom lip. I felt anxious, but no matter how hard I thought, I couldn't seem to place the reason for the feeling.

Not quite an hour ago I had given up on my attempts at feigning rest, instead turning my attention to my laptop. I had always found that either reading, or mindless computer time helped tire me out when I was unable to sleep. I had finished my latest manuscript earlier that evening, so with the exception of rereading an old classic I already had laying around, the computer was my option of choice.

Scrolling through the page in front of me, a stupid, shit eating grin came to my face. I knew I was being foolish, and more than a little presumptuous, but I was bored, far from rest, and alone. What was the harm in looking up possible flats back in New York, on the premise that when she came home, Lane may consider moving in with me. I knew we were far from that point, at least realistically. But I couldn't shake the desire in me to be with that girl all the time. I wanted to wake up with her, to do grocery shopping with her. I wanted to slap her on her perfect ass as she fiddled around the apartment, looking sexy in nothing more than shorts and a tank top. I wanted to crawl into bed beside her every night, knowing she was mine.

I didn't even know myself anymore. I had never been this person. I had never been the guy to think about a girl this way, let alone consider such a future with her. I always figured I would stay by myself, taking company as I chose, but nothing significant or long term. I was better on my own. No strings, no bullshit. I was no treat, myself, moody and basically an asshole most of the time.

But she had changed all that. She had changed me. I never would have considered trying to make friends with the other interns at work, before her. I would never have considered going back to New York, always wanting to escape to the west coast, before her. I never censored my moods or my snarky comments, before her.

I wanted to be better for her. I wanted to make her proud of me, and proud to be with me. Because I knew just how God damn lucky I was that she loved me.

My eyes considered the small lower Manhattan flat on the screen. It was tiny, but quite nice. One bedroom, one bathroom. But the large open concept kitchen and living area was bright and spacious. I could picture us painting the walls, inevitably bickering and flicking paint at each other. Of course, I would turn this into sex, as I had every intention on turning absolutely every moment, every fight, every look into a chance to make her scream my name.

I was just about to go back to the main listings page, when my phone vibrated on my nightstand. Immediately, I felt nervous, turning to glance at it. It was late, or early, depending on where you were.

Picking it up, I answered it quickly.

"Hello?"

"Harry," she breathed, her voice sounding impossibly small. I had never heard her sound that way, and I was instantly anxious.

"Lane, what's wrong?"

She didn't answer me. Instead, I heard the unmistakable sound of her crying. She was heaving, gasping, choking out sobs. I practically threw the laptop off my legs, bolting upright in my bed.