Deserve [H.S.]

Chapter 4

BLUSH

Training the next day was tough. It was Friday and Harry couldn't take his mind off of the night before, realizing that his moments with Noah were the happiest he had been in a while. He didn't consider himself a sad or lonely person, necessarily, but his life was very monotonous. Wake up, eat, train, eat, relax at home or go to the bar, sleep, repeat the next day. Adding Noah to the mix meant his whole routine was switching and a new, exciting element was added to his life.

He got knocked upside the head multiple times by Ray's hand covered in a boxing pad for losing focus.

Those hits to the head didn't prevent him from overthinking, however. He had been contemplating all day whether texting her the next day was too soon or not. He wasn't too used to the whole dating thing, so he wasn't sure what the appropriate amount of time to wait was. All he knew was that he wanted to talk to her and see her again. Given that it hadn't even been 24 hours yet, though, he felt a little pathetic.

It was now the evening and Harry was sitting on his couch after eating dinner, watching some random show or movie on his TV - he wasn't exactly paying attention enough to know what was playing. His knee was bouncing and he was nervously chewing the skin around his nails as his phone sat beside him, taunting him and calling him a loser for not having the courage to text her.

Was it worth it? He knew this would never end well anyway. How could it? There was no way that he deserved to even be in Noah's presence, right? She was so sweet and kind and good-hearted and wholesome and beautiful. At least, that's what he gathered after the few hours they spent together last night. He didn't think he was necessarily a bad person, but he was certain that none of those adjectives could be used to describe him so he felt like he didn't deserve to be around Noah.

However, he knew that he would regret it if he didn't take the plunge and put himself out there, which is exactly why he finally picked up his phone and began composing a new text.

Hey Noah, it's Harry. How's it hanging?

No. Definitely not. He shook his head as he backspaced.

Noah! Harry here.

That's even worse.

Hi Noah, it's Harry from the Bar. And Harry from the restaurant, technically. Or should I say hypothetically?

He shook his head once again. How lame could he be? He was about to begin backspacing, but he reached one hand up to rub at his forehead and his hands were way too clammy so his phone tragically slipped from his other hand. He tried to grab it again, causing his fingers to press on the screen in random places.

The little woop sound indicating that a text had been sent was so loud that it echoed around his entire living room. It rattled around in his brain, taunting him and mocking him as he avoided looking at his phone in fear of confirming what he already knew had happened. He had never felt his heart drop so hard and so fast.

His phone was upside down in his hands now, at a weird angle and begging to be looked at. His eyes were wide as he stared at it, taking a deep breath before slowly turning it around.

Sure enough, on the screen staring at him was a new text conversation with Noah that had been started. Started by him. He reread the text that was inadvertently sent about twenty times, like a horrible car crash that he couldn't look away from. He allowed his shame and utter mortification to overtake his entire body. He deserved it for being so lame, anyway.

Harry: Hi Noah, it's Harry from the Bar. And Harry from the restaurant, technically. Or should I say hypothetically? Af

Af? As in, as fuck? He didn't even use the shorthand version of that term, but his fingers happened to somehow type it perfectly and send it when he was trying to regain his grip on his phone.