The Flat

24

The front door to the ground floor wrenched open and in came in a family. With our inner senses becoming too hot for the public onslaught of affection, Harry and I pulled back immediately. Our gazes met and locked, holding steady as our breathing slowed to a normal pace.

"Excuse me?" The blonde woman holding her children's hands tightly, eyed Harry and I balefully. "Whatever this is, it's best suited for your flat. You don't get to hog the staircase, other people live here."

"Oops. Sorry." Harry grinned apologetically while I buried my face in his chest.

Clearly dissatisfied with our unapologetic smiles, the woman led her two girls past us and up the stairs. Harry didn't live here and I could hardly say that my stay with Natasha was still welcomed. However, it didn't matter, because once again, I'd be packing, but this time, I was heading home. To where I rightfully belonged.

Oh how everything had changed.

Once the door on the second floor shut loudly behind us, Harry's arms returned to grab my waist and he tightened his hold on me. I just grinned. I wanted to give him a soft, romantic smile, but I couldn't stop this huge, shit-eating grin spreading all over my face. I was so happy that I wondered if Harry could hear the frantic thudding of my heart.

"I know I'm sort of late to this, but I really want to do things properly this time around..." He paused for a second, then smiled. "Vivian, would you like to have dinner with me tonight?"

"Tonight?"

"Yes." He was watching me carefully. His faces inches from mine with a dimpled smile. "This night...and possibly every other night."

I giggled. "Do I have to look fancy? If yes, all my clothes are still in boxes."

"Viv, do you know how long I've waited for this?" He said softly, searching my eyes. I bit my lip, realising I didn't have an answer to his question. "I don't care what you wear or if you wear clothes, I just want to spend the evening with you." Then he proceeded to ask, "What are you thinking?"

"That this is one of the happiest moments of my life." I moved my hands to his neck and gently stroked his curly hair. "And that Natasha is probably going hate me even more than she does right now," I ventured, gesturing extravagantly at the ceiling with my head.

"One question?"

"Mhmm." I nodded a go ahead.

"Do you want to go out with me?"

"Yes, of course." I answered without as much as a thought.

"Then what has Natasha got to do with this?"

Absolutely nothing; if I tried not to think about returning to her flat to prepare for a dinner date with Harry.

•••

If I listened to Natasha play R.E.M's 'Everybody Hurts' or Morissette's 'Ironic', at full volume, one more time, I was going to take off my dress and sandals and start crying. Finally, Harry rang and picked me up subsequently in a rental Ford Truck, sparing my conscience.

My hands slid down my thighs, smoothing the creases out the silk material of my floral summer dress while we drove in silence. I was strangely nervous. Harry seemed nervous too, which rarely ever happened. For that reason alone, his anxiety was feeding mine. I began to wonder if things were irrevocably damaged—