Square.

Chapter Five.

A FEW MONTHS EARLIER

It was the night after my twelfth-grade graduation. I had skipped the after-party that was being hosted by the school, as per Harry's request. He took me back to his apartment where he had prepared a delicious meal in celebration of my grad.

"Harry, you didn't have to do this for me," I said as I took a seat at the table he had decorated in an over-the-top manner. A white, frilly lace tablecloth covered the table, and pink streamed hung daintily from the edges. There was gigantic centerpiece in the middle of the table with my picture on it, framed with a dozen or so pink and white balloons.

Harry waved my objection off, falling into the chair opposite mine. "Nonsense, love."

The plates in front of us were heaped with pasta and chicken and spices, and there was a cup of some pink, fruity-smelling stuff substance beside my plate. I picked up my fork and dug in, savouring every bite of Harry's amazing meal.

I was almost finished with my dinner when I glanced across the table at Harry, whose plate hadn't been touched. He was holding his phone, staring intently at it, fingers flying rapidly across the keys.

"Harry?" I frowned at him.

"Yes? Oh. Sorry, hold on-" He pressed a few more keys, then shoved the phone in his back pocket. "Okay. Sorry about that." He laced his fingers togethere and placed them on the table in front of him.

I bit my lip. "Something wrong with your food?"

Harry smiled, showing his dimples. "Not a thing, love. Just not terribly hungry tonight."

"So. . ." I trailed off, chewing on my thumb nail nervously, "Who was that?" I nodded in the direction of his phone.

"Oh. Um, just a mate from around town."

I was unconvinced. "Huh. Would I. . .know him?"

Harry looked uncomfortable. He picked up his otherwise untouched knife and started toying with it, flipping it back and forth between his fingers. "No. I mean--I don't think so. It's just someone from around town."

I nodded. "You said that."

There was a tense silence between us. That was where I should have stopped. I should have smiled and apologized for the cold attitude towards him. I should have helped clear the table and we should have further celebrated. But I didn't. I kept pushing.

"Is this. . .'mate' male? Or," I swallowed hard, "female?"

Harry let out a breath in the form of a whistle. "Female. I told you, she's just a friend, love."

Female. My whole body tensed. "Her name?"

He barked out a harsh laugh that didn't contain any amusement. "This isn't a bloody questioning."

I blinked. "No? Well, excuse me for wanting to know what's going on in your life. You're right, next time I should just leave you and pretend that I don't feel betrayed when you're freaking texting on what was supposed to be a romantic dinner!"

"For God's sakes, Hazel, calm down!" Harry's fist came down on the table, rattling the dishes.

Tears sprang into my eyes. "Don't you dare!" I screeched. "Don't you make it seem like this is immature on my part! I asked you a question and all I want is an answer!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "So I'm the immature one here? Like this tantrum you're throwing isn't uncalled for and stupid?!"

"Tantrum?!" I repeated in disbelief, gasping for air. "You call this a tantrum? I can show you a tantrum!"

I picked up my plate, which still held the remains of my dinner, which was a good half of it. Big, fat teardrops were rolling down my face now, undoubtedly smudging my makeup. "Take-this-you-big-jerk!" I said each word individually, pronouncing them carefully so Harry would get my message. And with no other warning, the plate flew out of my hand. . .

. . .and right onto Harry's chest.

"GET OUT!" He screamed angrily. I felt frozen, partly because I could not believe I had just done that, and partly because I saw a small trickle of blood starting to stain Harry's shirt.

"Harry, I-" I began, but I was cut off by another scream.

"Hazel, get off of my property or I will call the cops on you! Get out!"

A new round of tears started as I fled Harry's apartment, soaking my face. I faintly heard the sound of crashing glass behind me, but I didn't stop. I ran the five miles back to my own house, where I locked myself in my room and cried.