Harry held my hand over the center console as we drove away from my former home. In my other hand was the picture of my mother and I. Once I had climbed into the car, Harry had told me he would be right back and reappeared with the frame-less photograph in his hand.
I stared at my mother's smiling face. It was the one frozen memory where a genuine smile had lit up her features. It wasn't forced like it normally would have been. I could remember that day clearly.
My mother had taken me to the mall to get some new shoes since mine were so worn out. I was eight years old at the time and even then my brother and father weren't home much, so after seeing how sad it made, my mother thought she'd take me out to a treat.
We'd mulled around and bought ice cream and big, soft pretzels with melted cheese and salt and she would tell me stories about the fairies who lived in the mall and protected it from all the bad things in the world. At the time, I had been so excited by the fairies, and had even thought I could hear them whispering when I listened hard enough.
Finally when we were just about to leave a woman asked if we would like to try a sample picture at her booth, free of charge. The shot was only for one person, a head-shot, and my mother insisted that I take it, but I stubbornly forced her into taking it instead.
I saw that glazed over look in her eyes and that forced smile and my eight year old self hated it, so I made the funniest face I could think of. It really wasn't all that great, but the double-chin and stuck-out tongue combo was enough to bring that one real smile to my mother's face. It was a perfect moment frozen in time.
"Thank you," I whispered aloud. Harry looked over at me to find me staring at the picture in my hands.
"Of course," he nodded.
There were a few minutes of silence before Harry let out a quiet breath. "We still have a half hour drive."
"Yeah..." I trailed off, curious as to what he was getting at.
"I think now would be a perfect time to figure out where we stand." He said it so confidently and casually as if it were something that he spoke about often, though, come to think of it, it wasn't probably a major topic of discussion.
"Right," I murmured, setting the photograph down on my lap. "I have some questions first, if you don't mind."
"Go ahead," he said.
I took a breath. There was so much I wanted to know about Harry, from what his favorite color was to how he had started a gang, but there was one stupid question that was nagging at my mind above the rest. It was pointless, but I couldn't help but ask.
"How many girls have you been with?" It came out so quietly that I knew Harry barely caught it, but when he did he smirked and shook his head.
"Depends what you're asking," he replied after a moment. "Are we talking sexually or committed?"
"Both," I said in an even quieter voice. I felt slightly embarrassed, especially when Harry was so calm about it. He smiled and rubbed the back of my hand with his thumb. "I don't mind this, baby," he assured me, sensing my tension. "Actually, I'm kind of glad you brought it up. It's good to work through it now."
I nodded, feeling somewhat better as he thought over his answer.
"Sexually, I'm not even sure," he admitted. I couldn't stop my teeth from clenching together. It wasn't that I was jealous or angry, because I honestly expected it, but the confirmation made my stomach twist uncomfortably.
"Hey, don't worry about that, okay?" He was rubbing circles on the back of my hand again. "I... I never got particularly tied down, Alice. There was never any person I wanted to be committed to. But there was still all of these girls surrounding me. Every time I would go out with the lads, they threw themselves at me... well, all of us had girls at our throats, but I don't think my self-control was all that great so naturally I would go after them."
