ambivalent | hes

23

LYLA'S POV

Harry was acting strange. After I told my story he got out of the trampoline and went back to his chair by the fire. Maybe it was my story. I hope it didn't upset him.

"What's wrong with Harry?" Bea asked.

We were sat up in the trampoline, watching as Harry sat with his head down.

"I'll go talk to him." Louis said, quickly getting out and joining Harry by the fire.

Bea and I sat there, wondering what was wrong.

"I don't have a good feeling about this." Bea said, moving closer to me.

"I don't understand why he's so upset. I didn't intend for that to happen." I replied, sighing.

"It's okay. You didn't do anything wrong. It was a spur of the moment thing." She rubbed my back and I stared down at my lap.

"In fact, I was about to tell a story about how my brother threw my goldfish in the snow and it froze to death." Bea explained.

We laughed. She always knew how to brighten the mood of any situation. It was calming, and it made me glad she was my best friend.

"Should we go join them?" I asked, not sure if we should interrupt or not.

Bea nodded, and we climbed out of the trampoline.

"I'm sure she'll understand-" Louis said, but stopped when he realized that we were with them.

I sat down next to Harry, looking at him. He wouldn't make eye contact with me, instead he just stared into the fire.

"Harry?" I said, putting my hand on his arm.

He flinched, pulling away. The story was upsetting, but he shouldn't be this sad. Why was he acting so strange?

"Babe, please talk to me." I begged. I needed to know what was wrong.

I couldn't get anything out of him. Instead he pulled me into a hug, saying,

"Lyla, no matter what happens, please remember that I love you, so much. I've never felt this way about anyone before, you make me so happy. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me and I don't want to lose you."

"I love you too, Harry. I just don't understan-" I said, but he cut me off.

"I'm gonna head home. I'll talk to you guys later." He said before getting up and walking out front to his car.

I watched in confusion as he drove away.

HARRY'S POV

I couldn't be near her right now. I needed to go home and think this over.

Flashbacks from that day occurred in my mind as I drove down the street.

I was in Pennsylvania, visiting Niall, an old friend of mine. It was late at night, around 12 o'clock, and we were driving home from a party. He was drunk, so of course I had to drive. He was blaring music, singing along at the top of his voice.

"Niall, can you turn it down a bit?" I asked, trying to concentrate on the road.

"Sure buddy." He said, laughing as he turned it up instead.

"Oops." He burst out into laughter, resting his head on my shoulder and wrapping his arms around my waist.

"I love you, Harry. You're my best friend."

"Niall, please, I'm trying to drive." I said as I tried to pry his arms off of me.

"Lighten up a bit, mate."

He removed his arms from my waist and then grabbed my arm. My hand remained on the wheel, so his actions caused me to swerve to the right where a man was crossing the street. I screamed, shaking in terror as my foot desperately searched for the brake. But it was too late. His body flew over the windshield and over the back of the car, landing in a nearby pile of snow.

"What just happened?" Niall asked, his mood suddenly changing from goofy to serious.

I was gripping the steering wheel, my knuckles turning white as I dared to say it.

"We hit someone."

I took a deep breath before taking off my seat belt, but Niall stopped me.

"We can't go out there. If the cops find out we'll get arrested." He said, putting my hands on the steering wheel.

"We can't just leave him out there Niall. He's hurt. We have to do something." I responded, my heart pounding in my ears.

"And that something is getting as far away from here as we can. Now drive."

I don't know why I let my drunken friend convince me to leave the man out there, but my mind was cluttered and I wasn't thinking straight, so I drove off.

I couldn't sleep that night, knowing what I had done. I felt guilty, like I should turn myself in. I hated myself for leaving him there, and when I saw on the news the next morning that they had found his body, I couldn't help but cry as they showed the face of the daughter he had left behind. The face I would meet again, in person, and come to know and love, clueless that she was the child of the man I had killed.

—

Once I was back at my house, I went straight upstairs. Quickly taking off my clothing, I took a long, hot shower. I just stood there, thoughts scrambled in my mind as droplets of water streamed down my body.

I didn't know what to do. I really only had two options. I could tell Lyla, and she would hate me for the rest of her life and I would lose her forever and end up in jail, or I could keep it a secret, and be stuck with the guilt of murdering the father of the person I fell asleep next to at night. It was such a hard decision, and all of those thoughts made my head hurt.

I got out of the shower and quickly dried off. I threw on a pair of boxers and got into bed, contemplating what to do.