to be so lonely • hs

twelve

Harry took in a deep breath as he raised his hand in a fist, hesitating the three knocks he'd leave on Jamie's door. He couldn't tell if the pounds were from his knuckles on the door or his heart beating in his chest, but he stood back and attempted to steady his breath.

Moments later, the door unlocked and Jamie stood on the other end, pulling it open. She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at Harry, who could only hold his gaze for seconds at a time before looking away.

"Are you coming in, or what?" Jamie asked, moving aside and walking into her studio apartment, only a few streets away from Harry's, and only a few steps away from her job. Jamie was a waitress at a restaurant, with dreams of one day becoming head chef. It didn't have to happen at that restaurant in particular, but she was growing tired of the apron around her waist that held a notepad and extra straws, desperate to trade it in for a white coat and toque.

Harry rolled his eyes and followed her inside, gently closing the door and locking behind him. He looked at himself quickly through the mirror in the hall, running his fingers through his hair, before greeting her again in the main room.

"I thought you were busy with a friend." Jamie questioned, leaning over the granite counter with a glass half full of rosé in her hand.

"I was." Harry spoke, still afraid to make eye contact. He distracted his eyes with the frame of the two of them hung on the wall behind her. It was a picture of them on Christmas, sat near the tree, opening each others presents on the floor of her parents home. Harry was smiling in the picture, but wasn't sure if it could attest for how happy he was that night— or how happy he wasn't.

"Was it Mitch?" Jamie asked, raising the glass to her lips, watching as Harry shook his head. "Ambrose?" She continued, another head-shake.

"Someone from work." He lied, though it hurt him to do so. He wished he could be honest and tell her who he was with, and that she would trust him enough to allow him to hang out with his new-old friend.

"Hmm." She shrugged, "Well, now that you're here, should we grab dinner?"

Harry felt his cheeks grow hot, "I ate, actually."

"God, Harry, you couldn't have waited for me?" Jamie groaned, setting her glass down and turning around to open the cupboard to her left. Harry noticed the few strands of her blonde hair peaking out from her pony tail, tied with a pink elastic to match the pink long sleeve she wore, accompanied by the black sweatpants and fuzzy socks.

"Sorry." He wasn't, though, and actually, he was quite hungry.

"Whatever," Jamie pulled out a box of uncooked pasta and set it on the table, along with a few ingredients from the fridge.

Harry didn't know when the right time would be to tell his girlfriend he didn't want to be with her anymore. He hoped there'd be some sort of an opening, somehow, like she'd ask him if he were happy and he would he honest, and tell her he wasn't. But he knew that time wouldn't come.

"Jamie." Harry spoke, his voice a bit shaky.

"Yes?" She grabbed a pot and filled it with water, then placed it on her stove to bring the water to a boil.

He stuck his hands in his pocket, feeling around until he grabbed his phone, holding it in his hand while they remained in his pants. He wished he could call for someone else to do this for him.

"I think we should—" talk, he was going to say, if Jamie hadn't interrupted.

"Will you grab that?" She pointed at a red bell pepper that had rolled closer to him, too far for her to reach. He nodded and pushed it back over with his finger, his other hand still in his pocket.