Perspective

Chapter Twenty Three.

"Darling you got to let me know
Should I stay or should I go?"

***

It's Saturday, it's been a day since Harry kissed me and I'm still just as fucking confused as I was when it happened.

It's all I can think about.

My brain is going haywire trying to figure it out and understand it, and all I seem to end up doing is spiral myself further into a mental hockey match I don't know how to play.

He didn't try to kiss me again and I can't figure out whether I'm happy or upset about that.

It's driving me more mental than I already am.

Even my journal entry last night was the same bullshit thing.

"17/4/2018 #339

Why did he kiss me?

Why did I let him?

Why did I like it?

Need to figure it out."

After he showered yesterday he got dressed, not before walking around my room in a towel picking his clothes up; smirking to himself when he caught me staring.

I don't know why I was staring, it was like I couldn't control my eyes.

Watching him walk around the room, clinging the towel low on his hips in a fist; with his damp hair stuck to his back and broad shoulders that tensed and flexed as he moved around made me feel...

I'm not sure, but I felt something and it sent me into even more of a head fuck spiral.

I don't remember the last time I felt attracted to someone, barely remember what it even feels like. I'm so use to basically holding up a crucifix and hissing at anything male that comes near me.

I know that, logically and subjectively by all rights he is an aesthetically well made human. I can appreciate that and know that, as I would with anything I could tell is aestically well put together - like how you can understand a nice looking car when you see one but I'm lost about whether I just know that about him now, or whether I find him attractive.

There's a difference between understanding someone is attractive and being attracted to them.

How could he possibly be attracted to me, though? Do you kiss people you aren't attracted to?

If he were a car he'd be like an old cool sleek black mustang and I'd be... I'd be one of those death trap cars with duct tape holding it together that nearly blows up when you try and start it.

I mean even in comparison to that girl he bought to the diner, I'm nothing like that. She was all legs, and a body that could give a blind man an erection - she was a like a sensual panther.

I'm a sloth. A sloth with jokes.

But... despite knowing that I'm still catching myself looking at him and noticing things about him I didn't before and it's infuriating for my brain to comprehend.

I didn't really know how to act around him yesterday, which he seemed to get a kick out of. He just spun me through such a loop with that kiss, that my usual sarcasm and abrasive attitude was swapped with me being barely able to look at him or stuttering over my words.

I knew how to act when I was trying to get him away from me, or telling him to fuck off.

What the hell do I do around him if I don't want that?