Eucalyptus & Honey |H.S.|

Chapter 24 - You're Selfish, I Know

I felt like shit.

For the first time, Harry and I's silence did not feel comfortable.

We hadn't spoken since we left the bathroom, other than when he asked me if I had everything I needed to leave. I simply nodded, and we told the rest of the group that we were going home.

Margot had given me her 'you're not getting out of telling me this shit,' look as I hugged her goodbye, and I simply rolled my eyes at her. Sarah gave me the exact same look, and I told her I'd call her tomorrow.

We'd been driving for about five minutes in painful silence, and I had no fucking clue how we were supposed to get through the final fifteen minutes of the drive.

I reached over to turn the stereo on, hoping to drown out some of the silence, but Harry's hand gripped my wrist, stopping me. "Let's just leave it, yeah?" he asked, and I realized the words echoed those of the ones he had spoken the night of his party. It was almost comical to think about how much everything has changed between us.

"Why?" I asked, voice laced with irritation. I wasn't even sure what, or who, I was irritated at anymore. I think I was just mostly angry that Harry had finally told me he loved me, and I couldn't even be excited about it, because I was already way too fucking hurt. "So we can sit in our fucking miserable silence?" I finally asked, and my tone was filled with sarcasm. I knew I was being unnecessarily harsh, but I was getting pissed all over again.

"No, Stevie," he said, and I nearly flinched. I couldn't stand the bitter sound of my name on his tongue after getting so used to hearing 'angel baby'. "So that we don't just push this shit off with some music that will make us feel good, and pretend nothing fuckin' happened tonight."

"What did happen tonight?" I asked, and my voice was beginning to raise. "Because I'd love to hear your perspective."

"Stevie..." Harry sighed out in an almost warning tone.

"Yeah. That's what I fucking thought. Fucking incapable of ever giving me a straight answer."

His jaw clenched, and his grip on the steering wheel tightened. I could tell he was doing his best not to get angry, but I wanted to push him. I wanted to make him angry. Because, apparently, that was the only fucking way to get him to tell me anything.

Harry let out a frustrated sigh. "Angel, you don't know what the fuck you're even talking about. Please, just drop it."

I felt tears of frustration stinging the back of my eyes. My fingers began playing with the hem of my dress, and I looked down to watch their movements. "Is that what you want?" I asked, and my voice was much quieter, but still filled with so much hurt anger. "To just fucking drop it? Drop everything?"

That was the last fucking thing I wanted. I was still so frustrated and angry that he refused to talk to me—that he insisted on hiding shit—and hurt that he had left me on the dance floor with my heart on my sleeve.

I was also sort of feeling like shit after the way we fucked in the bathroom. I knew it wouldn't have been a good idea to have angry sex. But, I had felt so much hurt and anger that it was nearly consuming me. I just needed to feel good. And, despite knowing how to hurt me more than anyone else, he also knew how to make me feel like I was floating on cloud nine the way no one else ever has before.

And coming down from that insane high felt like coming down from a drug—the bad feelings from before flooding back in tenfold.

But dropping this—whatever we were—was the last thing I wanted. I wasn't sure if that was even what he had meant, but my insecurities were taking the lead, and I had to ask.