I lay in my bed, refusing to go to classes the past week. The way I so effortless fucked up my life has me pissed at myself, my anger growing.
My hand holds my phone as I look through the TA's notes, my lips releasing a sigh. The work has been extensive and I fall farther behind, but I couldn't care less. I'm not amounting to anything anymore; reality slapping me in the face.
A knock on the door sounds and I yell to get lost, my body jolting when I hear his voice.
"I-I know...I just t-think you should...come to class," I hear Harry, my hear racing. I scramble out of bed, shocked he even spoke after me yelling such a thing.
"Why?" I ask, his voice quiet. I know I'm intimidating to him, but he shouldn't worry about me judging.
"I-It's a lot. You're missing t-too much," he says, my hand opening the door. He jolts and looks down at me, my eyes looking into his.
"I'm dealing with a lot of shit right now. I can't stand being with myself, let alone other people," I tell him, and his face breaks. He's taking it personally just as I suspect he would, and I sigh.
"Just...leave. I can't make you more upset," I warn, but he grabs my shoulders and pulls me into him. I'm wrapped in his arms, taking his hug with surprise. My arms wrap around his waist and he just keeps me in his arms.
"You've helped me. I...should help you," he says, my hands holding his shirt. I close my eyes and relax for the first time this week, his arms strong and tight.
"I fucked up," I breathe out, his head resting beside mine. It almost feels as though he refuses to let go until I do, but I really like the comfort right now.
"We all do sometimes," he says, making me smile. I keep my eyes closed and stay close to him, his hand rubbing my back. It's a soothing gesture and I'm curious to know if he's ever done this: comfort rather than be comforted.
But I let go and he stays in front of me, moving his hands into his pockets. I grab my bag, moving my hair into a bun, and slipping on my shoes. He smiles and I step out of my dorm, his body beside me. We walk and he doesn't talk, the quietness almost easing me.
Someone runs into Harry and he bumps into me, my head turning to look at him.
"Watch where you're fucking going?" the man grits at Harry, my hand grabbing Harry's arm.
"Shut the fuck up and keep walking, asshole," I retaliate, tugging Harry and continuing to walk.
"Thanks," he mutters, my head nodding.
"No worries," I grin, his shy smile letting me know he's okay. We get into the lecture hall and sit together, his body not so far away from mine today.
We're here early and I take a deep breath, not knowing how to bring up the fact I basically called him weird to his mom.
"Harry," I say, his head turning to look at me.
"You okay, Carly?" he asks, my lips pressing together. He's too sweet for my shit.
"I met your mom last week," I tell him, his lips parting. "I basically unleashed on her. She's very nice and listened to all my crap."
He looks worried, his breathing starting to quicken. "Calm down, please. Nothing bad happened and she didn't really talk about you," I say, grabbing his arm. He looks at me and I lean closer, his eyes never leaving mine. He's a lot less nervous around me and I'm thankful for that.
"You have to understand that what I said...I was just upset. If she tells you about it," I say, his eyebrows furrowing. I know I'm making him upset and I move my hand up, grabbing his cheek.
"I don't want to hurt you, because I know you've been hurt before," I whisper, his hand grabbing my wrist. I expect him to shove me away but he grabs my hand instead, my eyes watching his head fall.
"I'm stronger than that," he states firmly, my hand holding his. He's very upset right now and I want to figure him out.
"I never said you weren't," I whisper, his head turning to look at me. "I just...I'm not someone who has had a great life. Your mom told me you're much the same. I can't hurt you more than you've already been hurt."
He just shakes his head and lets my hand go to run his hands through his hair. He leans his head in his hands, resting on his elbows.
"I want a friend for once in my life," he whispers, my arm wrapping around him and my chin resting on his shoulder. He lifts up and looks at me, my eyes focused on him.
"I still want to be your friend, it's just..." I trail, taking a deep breath. "I'm not like other girls. I'm not a big softy and I want you to know that I've been wearing my big girl pants since I was five. Independence is what I'm used to and being friends with you means I'm going to need to change a little."
He frowns and I just rest my head on his shoulder, trying to give him a sense of what I've been. I'm never friends with guys, but for him I'll allow it.
"I don't know what friendships are even like. People hated me; absolutely...despised me," he whispers, my body lifting so I'm facing him.
"I don't hate you. You're different, but I see you in different eyes," I whisper, our conversation so quiet and to ourselves.
"Girls like you never talk to me," he tells me, my lips curving. He flushes and I know he's adjusting, talking to me better.
"I'm not like those girls, am I?" I ask, his head shaking. We laugh a little then the professor walks in, the two of us taking notes and listening to the lecture. I can see him glancing at me multiple times during the lecture, making my lips curve. When I look at him when I feel his gaze on me, he quickly turns away and I smile. He's so cute and I know this is going to be good for us.
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