matchmaking for experts || h.s au

seven

When Maia wakes up a few hours later, it takes her a couple of seconds to realise that she's naked. That there's an arm wrapped around her stomach, a head nuzzling her neck, warm breath hitting her skin ever so slightly and that her legs are tangled together with Harry's as though they've always slept like this.

Everything that happened last night rushes into her mind and suddenly the arm around her feels heavier than it did a few seconds ago and the nearness that she shares with Harry feels suffocating even though last night she found solace in it. She craved for that closeness last night, wanting to be as close as she could with Harry and they were. They were as close as two people could be.

Realisation hits. She had sex with Harry. And she was the one who suggested it, possibly being the one to ruin their friendship.

Before panic could engulf her, drowning her, she screws her eyes shut and counts to ten whilst she inhales and exhales. Inhales and exhales, inhales and exhales.

When Maia reopens her eyes, she turns to her right and for a split second, she feels warmth spreading across her chest at the sight of Harry sleeping peacefully, unaware of the inner turmoil she's dealing with. But the contentment is soon replaced with a wave of panic and the need to escape, to run, nags at her.

Maia peels Harry's arm off of her, as carefully as she could so she won't wake him up, and swings her legs to the edge of the bed. She then scans the room to look for her clothes and puts everything on piece by piece as she picks them up from the floor until she's fully dressed. Until the only thing left to do is for her to get herself out of Harry's room and out of his place.

In the back of her mind, Maia knows that running away won't solve the problem. It'll just delay the inevitable because sooner or later she'll have to face the consequences of her drunken decision. Have to talk to Harry about what happened last night even though she'd much rather not.

Before her hand could reach for the doorknob and before she could leave his room, she stops and takes one last look at Harry's sleeping form. She does not doubt that the image in front of her will be forever ingrained in her mind the same way everything that happened last night will.

As she watches Harry sleep, Maia entertains the idea of staying in that bed with his arms wrapped around her like they were made for her and then waking up together so they could go on with their day. She lets herself believe that in an alternate universe, that's exactly what happens.

The realisation that she will never see him like this ever again nor will she ever be as close to him the way she was just hours ago hits her like a train going at a full speed, coming out of nowhere.

Nausea swirls in her empty stomach and her head swims with regrets. Her heart struggles to keep a steady beat and with each step that she takes, she feels as though there's a dark, haunting cloud hovering above her head, following her, taunting her. Her legs feel heavy as though running away isn't something that she should be doing even though, in her mind, she knows it's the right thing to do. The most logical thing to do.

When she's finally out of Harry's flat, Maia wonders how her heart could still beat when it feels like it is being gripped by an ache that will implode her chest, that makes her feel raw as though the sudden gust of cold wind is blowing right through her skin.

Her fingers are shaking as she reaches for her phone that she keeps in her bag. She ignores the endless messages that she gets from Laura and from everyone in the group chat, ignores the notifications about the missed calls, and orders herself an Uber.

Whilst she waits for the car to arrive (it's a miracle that there's one not far from her current location at this hour) she decides to go through the group chat.