Aquarelle [h.s]

forty-eight

I didn't hear from Harry for days.

He didn't call me and I didn't call him, not wanting to be the one doing the first move. He clearly didn't either - or was done with me altogether - so I didn't get any news from him, the forced distance making me understand how much I truly hated being away from him. But still, I wouldn't have been the one to back down.

That was, at least, until a message turned on the screen of my phone. I picked it up and read it quickly, furrowing my eyebrows the more I kept reading it.

From Nicholas: Hey Sierra, I know you told me not to text you but it's been some days and I couldn't help myself. It was lovely to catch up with you, I was thinking we should do it again sometime soon? Maybe we can go to that restaurant we went on on our first date, you know the one in front of the florist? Maybe we can find some roses there too, I know they're your favourite flower. You looked stunning the other day, really made me wonder why I messed up everything with you. What do you say? Let's consider it a date and start anew? Let me know soon

I threw the device on the bed and rolled to lie on my back, staring up at the ceiling and sighing.

There was no way Nicholas had just asked me out on a date. That was ridiculous - outrageous even. It definitely wasn't something people did with friends. Which meant that he didn't want to be friends. Which, inevitably, meant that Harry had seen something I hadn't the other day.

Which meant that I was screwed, because instead of listening to the words that had left his mouth I'd screamed back at him, making everything even worse, and now I was pretty sure he didn't even want to talk to me.

I sighed again, knowing that I had to fix it, and picked up my phone, writing a quick message in reply to Nicholas.

To Nicholas: I'm sorry, but I don't feel comfortable doing that. I'm dating Harry now and I'm happy, he means a lot to me. It was nice to catch up, I'm thinking we should leave it at that. I hope you're well.

I sent the reply and stood up quickly, putting on a skirt that would look good with the shirt I was wearing and slipping on a pair of shoes before grabbing my car keys and getting out of my house.

I had to talk to Harry.

I got to Harry's house in a record time and got out of the car quickly, walking up to the door and ringing his doorbell. Much to my surprise he let me in, and I got up the stairs as fast as I could, stopping halfway not to be short of breath when I would see Harry.

When I finally made it to his door he was keeping it half open, his body fitting in the little space, and made no move to let me in.

"Harry" I said, my voice rushed, "we need to talk."

He raised an eyebrow at my sentence, not seeming to like the idea in the slightest. "I don't think I want to" he replied quietly, and something broke inside of me. I knew that it was only my fault, but it still hurt to know that Harry, my Harry, didn't want to talk to me. I hated that I'd done that to him. I'd promised myself I would've never hurt Harry, but there I was, having done just that.

"Please" I pleaded him, "please listen to me." I looked at him after I spoke, giving him a quick once over.

It was clear that he hadn't left his flat the whole day. He was wearing his usual comfortable clothes, a black short-sleeved shirt and sweatpants, nothing on his feet. His hair was messy and there were strands partially covering his forehead that he didn't bother brushing back, probably knowing that they would've fallen back in the same place not too long after, and he had dark circles under his eyes, making it clear that he hadn't slept much in the past couple of days. It hurt me to know I'd had a negative effect on his mood.