Through The Dark || Harry Styles

33. LUCY

LUCY

"It would be more fun if you were here," Harry purrs down the phone and his tone makes my heart rush. He begged me to come to lunch with him at his parents' house but I had insisted that I had stuff to do.

Two weeks have passed since Harry took me to the cottage for my birthday and since then, we have somehow fallen into this heart-shaped hole, where all we do is dote and kiss and tease and fuck and send soppy, whiney messages to each other when we are apart about how much we would rather be together.

"When can you leave?" I hum back, thinking about all the things we could do if he were here.

"Soon, a couple of hours. I'll come right over, leave the door unlocked," his voice has dropped an octave.

I feel like a horny teenager, giddy with weirdly strong emotions and I can never seem to get enough.

"Meet you in my bed."

He groans obnoxiously. "Counting the seconds."

"See you soon."

"Not soon enough," he adds.

I can hear how we sound and it's pathetic, each of us basically begging the other to hang up first and sulking about having to adult in between seeing each other.

I kinda love it.

"Then come sooner," I pout to myself and my stomach flips at his whimper.

"I will be, baby. And, so will you," he croaks.

I can hear his mum scream out to him in the background.

"Fuck, I gotta go. Bye, babe."

"Drive safely. Don't speed to get here. Don't text and drive," I rattle off my warnings as he patiently answers: "Of course. I won't. Never."

He all but makes kissy noises down the phone before we finally end the call and I'm smiling to myself like an idiot.

It's like I'm drunk on... lust? Life? Harry.

The guilt gets me every now and then, the fact that I've moved on from my marriage in just five months has me questioning my moral compass on a regular basis. But in the end, the complete and total elation I feel has me shoving the negative feelings in a tightly closed box for another day.

I'm sick of being sad.

We haven't had the conversation, but I feel like whatever this is between Harry and me is more than just a casual fling. There are real feelings here, strong enough to fight against what we know is socially unacceptable and what the reactions of our families will be when they find out.

I don't care. I like him.

Even the frightfully cautious part of me doesn't give a shit how or if this will end between us.

I'm addicted to the now with him.

So much so, I told myself that today I will finish the admin of Jake's that I have left to do, the stuff that I have put on the back burner and in the too hard basket. I guess something inside of me wants closure.

I sit down with a latte in my left hand and post-it in the other. Passwords and usernames are scribbled into the paper that someone from a computer recovery place gave me in order for me to login to my late husband's laptop.

I've been putting off sorting through Jake's emails because I figured if anything was important enough, the sender would have found out about his death by now or gotten in touch with me or Jake's workplace if it was urgent.