Wish You Were Here - Part 2

Chapter 23

OLIVIA'S POV

"I just think it would be better for everyone if I stayed home,"  I tell Bec who is hovering over me trying to add messy curls to my flat, freshly washed hair. 

It's been days since Harry and I slept together and we haven't had any contact since he awkwardly left Bec's apartment shortly after, misery taking over both of us as we got hurriedly dressed and pecked each other on the lips goodbye with about as much as much passion as I would kiss my sister with.

I guess that was it, the end of us? 

I have been dreading Xander's annual Christmas party all week, wondering if Harry will go and how we are meant to pretend like everything is fine when tensions have hit breaking point.

"It will be fine, Liv."  Bec says for the millionth time tonight.  "Just see how it goes and if you want to leave, then we'll go."

"All done," I hear her say as she turns off the curling iron and I thank her before throwing on an old, shitty, sweater dress and thick tights just grateful it's clean and was the first dress I pulled out of my suitcase on Bec's floor. 

I know I should unpack my things but part of me doesn't want to accept the finality of what that means.

Bec is staring at me in the bathroom mirror we share, waiting for me to put on at least a little makeup to cover the signs of the fiery hell I've been stampeding through over the last month.  I brush mascara through my lashes and she sighs outwardly at my lack of effort. What's the point?

I look at my sad, worn out face in the reflection of the mirror and debate fighting harder to stay home.

My heart is in my throat the entire cab ride to Xander's, the anticipation growing with each passing minute and the whirlwind of thoughts is making my pulse race.

Will he say hi? How are we meant to act? How does he feel after the other night?  Is Mrs Stewart making him enough food? Is he ok?

"I don't care, I don't care, I don't care."  I try to convince myself but as the car pulls up and my stomach backflips I realise there's no point fooling the foolish.

The moment we step out into Xander's yard I see him.  Our friends are gathered in the outdoor section removed from the giant marquee on the lawn where we gathered last time around the fire. 

He looks like heaven, as usual, his black jeans cling to his thighs.  He's not in his usual button down shirt, obviously battling with the same lack of effort as I was as I take in his worn grey sweatshirt that sits under a black woollen coat.  The ring clad hands that haunt my dreams rest casually by his side. 

His curls are soft and clean and my heart thumps in my chest when he tucks one behind his ear and licks his lips.

I think about my ugly, old sweater dress and hideous tweed coat and cringe as his eyes find mine.  His perfect, pink lips part slightly as he realises I'm here and begins to walk towards me, completely disregarding the conversation he was just having with another guy.

The closer he gets the sharper the pain is.  My mind is clinging to the mantra I was telling myself in the cab but the pull of him is too strong.

Fuck, I look so disgusting

"Fuck, you're so beautiful,"  he murmurs under his breath.

"So are you." I mumble back.

He snorts an exhale and he shakes his head, partly in modesty, partly in confusion about how the hell we are meant to act around each other. Can we go back to being just friends?