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Chapter 73 - Harry

                                                                   73. 

                                                             ●•Harry•●

The past week had been amazing, really. Quite surreal, if I might add. Honestly, there was nothing as good as waking up every single morning for a whole seven days next to the girl I was completely in love with.

Even if I did have to work, and so did Scar – we couldn’t just give up on everything to be with each other, unfortunately –, and even if I did fear she wouldn’t come back by the night, she always rang the doorbell two or three hours after I’d arrived home from uni. Plus, she would always be at my flat during my lunch break, and would either cook (even when I insisted she shouldn’t), or we would go out together.

The two hours I had free between work and uni, we would talk and simply spend time together for about an hour, then she would get ready to go to the club, and if once done she still had time left, we would just cuddle on the couch.

And again, it was perfect.

There was something wrong, though.

Since a while ago – I wasn’t sure exactly when it started –, she was acting oddly. Every time we made love she wouldn’t touch me like before; when I tried to look into her eyes she looked away, started staring at something behind me or even her feet. She would turn her back at me in bed before sleeping, and I could tell she took a lot longer than I did to drift off to sleep (her breathing was ragged and I could feel her thinking, wishing I could hear it, too).

Everytime I tried to question her about it, she would say something like “I’m just the same,” or “It’s nothing important,” or a simple and evasive “I’m weird,” with a roll of her shoulders that basically revealed nothing.

But it was starting to bother me, is the thing.

Scarlett was different all of sudden and I started to wonder if I had done something wrong. But then again, I hadn’t done anything different from what I’d been doing before. And we still had a week before Tyler came back, so I couldn’t see a reason why she’d start worrying right now.

But maybe she got sick of my love. The thought freaked the hell out of me. I couldn’t lose her; I’d become too fond of her presence since we first met months and months ago, and I’d fallen too fast to even think about stopping. And, honestly, I can’t picture a scenario where I would try to stop myself; not considering the effect Scarlett had had on me since the beginning. No one who made my heart beat faster again after so long could be easily forgotten.

And there we were again, staring at each other with an awkward silence hanging between both of us. Scarlett had her ice cream pot between her hands, her eyes locked to mine for a brief moment that was more than enough to make us both uncomfortable. We were at the park – my idea – since I believed it would be good for us to spend some time away from my boring flat and the not-that-boring routine we’d adapted ourselves to.

She was still weird, though, alternating from looking at her fumbling fingers holding the spoon to the several people walking in front of us, passing by quickly, trying to reach the warmness and the comfort of being home, probably. And, okay, the thought made me realize that I was probably nuts, but I couldn’t care much. I was sick of being home, sick of not seeing the world.

Even if it was a covered-in-snowy-white world.

Scarlett was absolutely out of her mind, though, finishing with her ice cream and throwing the pot into the trashcan with a sigh and a murmur of “maybe I should get another one”, the little colored spoon still being held between her lips.