Falling | h.s

forty

HARRY'S POV

It's been one hour and thirty-three minutes since she walked out the door and I'm still pacing, twisting my rings, waiting for her to turn around. Waiting for her to come back and fight me, to tell me how shitty I acted.

She just needed a minute. I should have respected that. She was overwhelmed and I pushed her. She hated being pushed, especially with emotional things. It took her so long to open up to me, to let me in, but there was still a multitude of things I didn't know about her. I know she's guarded, but I don't know why. I know she's emotional and sensitive but doesn't want anyone to know it. Me telling her I loved her a month after she broke up with Charlie is single-handedly the scariest thing that could have happened to her.

I know what her last relationship was like. I stood on the sidelines and saw how he controlled her, how he pushed her. It didn't take a genius to see why she needed to think after hearing me say I loved her. And I did love her.

But god, I was mad at her. I was mad at her saying I didn't know her. I was mad that I let her walk out that door. I was mad at the things she said. But most of all, I was mad that she was leaving in two weeks.

I was mad at myself too. I was mad that I pushed her. I was mad that I said those horrible things. I was mad that I let my emotions take over and that I said things I didn't mean. I wish I could take it back, that she would come back through that door and I could kiss away all the hurt between us. But with every passing moment, the pit in my stomach grew, and the regret set further into my bones.

I wanted to apologize, to set the record straight. I wanted to hear her voice, smell her perfume. I wanted to hold her in my arms and promise to never hurt her again.

So, one hour and thirty-four minutes after she walked out the door, I dialed her number by heart. The phone rings through the entire cycle before referring me to her answering machine. After a long and painfully loud beep, I begin.

"Hi, Janes," I start nervously before clearing my throat. "It's me. Harry. Uh, look, I'm really sorry. We both said some things we didn't mean. I'm just calling to make sure you're okay. Call me back, honey. Okay, er, I'll see you later." I hang up the call and groan at myself.

My eyes shift down to the floor, where her songwriting notebook still laid. I pick it up and flatten out the pages before setting it on my kitchen table. I try to pull my eyes away from it and do my best to put it out of my mind. I can't read that; it would be a total invasion of privacy. But the combination of the silence and my nervousness makes it nearly impossible.

In an attempt to distract myself, I call her again. Just like the time before, the automated voice recommends that I leave another message.

"Me again. Still haven't heard from you but wanted to see if I could cook you dinner tonight to apologize. Or, is that the exact opposite of what you want right now? Gahh...I don't know what I'm doing, I'm going to hang up now," I pull away from the phone before pausing and bringing it back up to my ear. "I'm sorry, my baby honey."

I spent the next hour wandering aimlessly around my house, waiting for her to call back. But each passing minute was filled with more radio silence. I tried to distract myself, listening to music, or reading the Hemingway book that she recommended to me.

After thirty more minutes, just as I'm about to call her again, I feel my phone buzzing in my pocket. I grab it quickly, hoping it would be her.