Haven • H.S.

20. Sweat the Small Stuff

Haven- 20

"...she said i think i'll go to boston. i think i'll start a new life, i think i'll start it over where no one knows my name..."

Harry.

        I didn't bother texting Niall-- hadn't bothered texting him in days. Maybe that made me a horrible friend. Someone you couldn't count on. But, Jesus, what was I supposed to say to someone that had feelings for my girl? No matter what kind of affiliation I had towards Niall, I couldn't push past that. 

        I'd spent so much time with Ella that I'd completely foregone the outside world. There was no world without Ella, so why should the rest matter anyways? She was the axis I spun on and I wouldn't let anyone take that away. Couldn't.

        Granted, I still had no faith in myself. No faith towards my tendency to fuck up some way along this journey. But if I saw the missile heading towards me and had the opportunity to postpone the effects, I'd dodge it at all costs. I was only human. Alas, I was dodging Niall.

        I wasn't comfortable with the sinking in my gut as I tugged on a clean shirt from my closet. The hanger flung forward towards me and then backward until it fell to the ground, and I wished fleetingly that that wasn't a sly representation-- clue-- to how my life would go from here. If I have Ella by my side nothing can go wrong, I reminded myself.

        I listened to that part of my mind because it was normally smarter than the rest of me.

        A knock at my door sounded and it could only be Ella. My heart knew that before my brain if the flutters taking place were any indication. I lived off of my reaction when I thought about her. When I touched her. It was a dangerous place to reside in and yet I'd always been a bit of a dare-devil.

        God, but I nearly lost my footing with the beauty coming off of her. Sweeping me up in her trap effectively like she'd always done and knocking me over from the waves of her sea-blue eyes. Tidal waves, soaking me and effectively drowning me. All it took was the wide smile she wore when I opened the door and I was lost. Completely and utterly lost when she stepped closer to take me into her arms, covering me with her familiar scent, when I'd been too far gone to do anything but stare. I'd always stared at her, studied her, and it had all started at the night I met her. How could I not? I never got sick of looking at her. 

        "You're killing me, Ella," I whispered into her shoulder, my voice hoarse. My hands wound around her waist, the act so habitual, so mundane that it wasn't even a thought anymore. The pure white of her dress contrasted so well with her beautifully pale skin, and her red, tempting lips. I swelled against the zipper of my jeans, endless scenarios tainting my mind and taking over. "I'm going to have a hell of a fucking time tonight fighting every guy off with swaying eyes. God, you are so beautiful."

        I was a lucky fucking bastard.

        "But I come home to you at the end of the night. They can bust their balls all they want, but I don't care about them." She leaned back, and dammit, I was in love.

        I loved her with every ounce of my being, so soon, so catastrophically soon, that I didn't know what to do about it.

        I was running out of ways to tell her discreetly. It wasn't the easiest thing to do, and I was precariously close to losing my brain and blurting it out like I'd almost done so many times, but then what? Once I told her just how much she meant to me would she run? Accept my words but turn them around? Throw them in my face and tell me that she'd never be able to feel the same?