Marielle was scared of him, but Harry was only scared of losing her.
*DISCLAIMER: This story contains a lot of domestic abuse, violence and swearing. Please consider checking out these things if you're interested in helping with domestic violence or...
"Mara," Harry and I had been dancing for a while now, to a lot of upbeat songs and my feet were ready to retire back to the table.
"Yes?" I had only had two glasses of champagne, but I already felt tired and woozy. I wouldn't say I was drunk, but I was pretty lightweight and a third or fourth glass would surely get me there.
"What happened with you and your parents?" It would take me over a day to recount every tiny fight and argument we'd had ever since Junior year of high school.
"A lot of fights—it's a long story, Harry. I don't really want to talk about it."
I wasn't afraid to tell him, I was afraid that he'd back away from me and never talk to me again. After all, I did choose my boyfriend over my family. That was the type of person that no one would ever want to be associated with.
"I'm sorry." No one ever apologized to me for anything, and it was a relief to hear someone do it for once. No one really cared enough to.
"I'm going to go get more champagne, would you like some?" Harry shook his head. I needed an excuse to get away for just a second. Hopefully, he'd brush everything off and we could sit and talk again.
I avoided large groups of people, especially familiar family members. They all knew what I'd done and none of them had even bothered to reach out to me after my parents spread the news that they'd disowned me because I'd done something 'terrible'.
I reached the bar and asked the red-headed bartender for another glass of champagne. I took a seat on one of the stools waiting for my drink to be finished. I fished a dollar bill out of my clutch as a tip and noticed the ring I'd stashed away in there. It was such a beautiful ring. Too bad putting it on was too painful.
"Marielle." My father handed the bartender a glass and asked for some wine. This was the confrontation I was so scared of.
"How's Trent doing?" This is what he did, he'd sneak questions that sounded so simple into a conversation just to pick at me, he'd use them against me later.
"He's fine," I replied, that was an answer that he couldn't turn against me.
"Who's he?" My father pointed at Harry who was watching the others dance and swaying softly along to the music.
"My neighbor, Harry. Amara didn't let Trent come." I didn't know where this conversation was going. I didn't plan on continuing it anyway.
"Trent must be okay with this. Right? Or does he not know?" My blood was boiling. He had no right to get into my business, he didn't have a right to even try to bring Harry into this either.
"That's real rich dad, you disowned me and now you're trying to dig into my personal life. Just stay away from me." I grabbed my glass of champagne and turned away from the man who I didn't even want to call my father anymore. He grabbed my wrist, spinning me around to meet his angered gaze.
"That's no way to talk to your father." He spat.
"You aren't my father anymore, remember?" I pulled my wrist out of his grasp and gave him one last cold stare before charging away back to my table.
"Good! You're back! Now we can dance again." The way Harry smiled at me made me happier, he looked at me like there was no one else in the room.
"Are you okay?" He asked, dropping the topic of dancing. I nodded, "yeah, let's just dance."
-
"Alright! Before we get to the slower music, I'm going to throw my bouquet," Amara waved the bouquet around in the air and a few people clap, she smiled and continued on with her announcement;
"then we'll do some photos and then get our slow dance on!" she handed the mic back to Max and he turned down the music a little for Amara.
I didn't plan on catching the bouquet or even trying. But for Amara, I joined the rest of the ladies in the crowd. Amber appeared amongst us, which was crazy because last I heard, she was dating a boy from her university in England.
For a few years, Amber had moved to England for university. She became a Nurse and moved back to the States with her boyfriend. I hadn't seen her in a while, she was twenty-four now but still acted like a teenager. We didn't have a strong relationship but it wasn't too bad.
"One, two, three!" The bouquet of white lilies flew into the air, I stood, waiting for Amber to jump in front of me and catch it. But she didn't, I did. By accident.
Catching the bouquet didn't mean that I had to get married, but I felt obligated to somehow. I was in my early twenties, but I was in a serious relationship and I wasn't going anywhere. Maybe it was best to settle down now before I lost everything.
"Remember to send me that invite yours and Trent's wedding." Amber walked away and I couldn't help but feel that that was some sort of poke at me. She was up to something.
When I walked back to Harry, he snatched the bouquet out of my hands and pretended to throw it, I laughed as he handed it back to me. He was too sweet to throw it away anyways.
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"What was that for?" I asked between giggles.
"You're too young to get married, Mara. Enjoy your life first." Some would shake off what Harry said, they'd go on with their lives saying 'I know, I know'. But I began to contemplate whether or not I was ready to settle down. I'd been to busy being cooped up in my apartment with Trent that I didn't even have time to experience life. Harry was my ticket out of it, but I couldn't step onto the train.
I remember my first school dance; it was the winter ball and Stay by Rihanna was playing and I sat by myself on the sidelines because I was a freshman and I had no one yet. So when the song began to play, and people coupled up on the dance floor, I thought about how I didn't want to be alone like that again. *Stay—Rihanna—Unapologetic* I was confused. I was in love with Trent, but somehow I wanted out. I was so confused.
I swayed along to the music, and then I set down my glass and slowly drifted to the dance floor where Harry stood, watching everyone else dance.
And we kind of just started to dance. I didn't know how to slow dance and I quietly apologize every time I accidentally stepped on his foot. I didn't think he really minded though. I didn't know how to slow dance professionally, but swaying along to the music like we were was just fine.
I looked up at him. He was smiling, not at anyone in particular, he was just smiling. It made me smile too.
Because even though Trent's smile could light up an entire room, Harry's could light up the entire city of Charlotte.
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American hotline for domestic abuse:1-800-799-SAFE (7233).
Website link for more information and numbers: http://www.thehotline.org
I was going to do Harry's POV in this one, but it's important that this chapter is in Mara's POV as it kinda makes sense for the transition to the next chapter.
