Wish [Harry] On Hold

15 | N u d e

Dedicated to styleslegend for staying strong. You're an incredible inspiration x

HEATHER AND I SAID OUR goodbyes in a rushed and messy state. We were both a little hungover and disorientated, not to mention Heather had slept in an hour later than she had planned to. She'd packed in a flurry of clothes and make-up and was wishing me the best as she scrambled out the door with barely enough time for a last hug goodbye.

I'd enjoyed her staying over, I had, but there was no denying that it had left an unnecessary and excruciatingly sore headache - for multiple reasons. Firstly, her behaviour while shopping had been like a mimic of a spoiled teeanger. Then there was her clubbing idea, the silly git. And finally, her great scheme to practically force Harry and I together.

Which had nearly happened! Damn it.

I'd thought about it all night before I'd finally fallen asleep. The idea of Harry and I nearly kissing had my stomach doing flips and I pondered what his lips would have felt like against mine. Rough? Soft? Wet? Or would I have to moisten them for him? Would I have been brave enough to wrap my arms around him and pull him down, closer to me? Perhaps he would have pulled my body against his? Oh, the possibilities were endless and the anger I felt within I replayed the drunk man knocking me over was almost overpowering.

I wanted to hit something.

It had been months since Harry had found Sally with another man, which was enough time to heal and slowly get over her. Besides, she wasn't worthy of being with him anyway. In my eyes, no one was good enough for him, not even myself. But of course, I still wanted him because I knew that - unlike Sally - I would worship the ground he walked on and love him to the best of my ability.

My Sunday afternoon had been full of nothing but deep thoughts, messy paintings and multiple cups of coffee. I felt drained, both physically and mentally, no doubt from the night before. I was so exhausted that I'd also managed to cover myself in paint.

I wanted to call Harry. The idea had been running through my mind all day but I just couldn't bring myself to pick up the phone and check in on him. What a bitch, the voice in the back of my head had scoffed. It was true - I was a bitch for not making sure he was OK. What if he'd been severely hurt after we'd been separated? What if the drunk guy had found him and decided to attack him once again?

I glanced at my phone one last time before deciding to do the right thing - I called him.

It rang twice before he picked up, sounding groggy. "Jane!"

"Harry, hey," I practically gasped out. "How are you? Are you OK?"

"Let me in," he unexpectedly said.

I frowned. "Huh?"

"I'm outside."

"Y-you are?" I squeaked. "How long have you been here?"