What's Wrong With Forbidden?

Chapter 7

"Harry," I correct. She blinks.

"Oh, sorry. Harry was right. I have friends at school. Why shouldn't you be allowed to have friends at home?"

I bite the inside of my cheek. She doesn't even know how lucky she is to get to go to a school, instead of being trapped in her own home day after day. It makes me angry, even though I know it shouldn't. It's not like it's her fault my life is this way.

"Yeah," I say, unable to keep the bitterness out if my voice. She frowns.

"Yeah," she says, a bit more hesitant now. But I guess that was all she had to say, because she goes quiet, fiddling with a few stray pebbles lining the fountain's rim.

"Look," I say into the silence. She glances up, curious, and I wonder if I can really tell her this. Really see her reaction when I say it.

But it's way harder not to know, so I keep going.

"My...parents, think it would be a good idea, for, ugh, the business..." God, I seriously suck at this. But I wet my lips and try again, looking everywhere but at her.

"They think that I need someone who, um, is, like, good with fashion and stuff...someone I know..." I force myself to watch her, refusing to miss anything she gives away. Still, nothing. She just looks confused, the same way I did when my mother first mentioned the idea.

"They think we would be a good match, I guess." I try to laugh it off, the whole time studying her reaction. "Crazy, right?"

Her mouth opens into an "oh", her eyes wide with shock. But maybe also...longing?

She drops her head, her hair not enough to obscure her blush.

"Yeah," she murmurs. "Crazy."

I sit in the silence for as long as I can stand, but it seems she's not going to be the one to break it. Typical.

Woah, I think. Where did that thought come from?

I shake my head. "El..." She still isn't looking at me, so I take her hands. They're warm, but there's none of the sparks I feel with Harry. Just like there never has been, and there never will be.

"What do you think about it?"

"I don't...I don't know. I mean, it doesn't sound terrible..." she says, and I can't help but recoil.

"You mean you don't...you don't think that's wrong?"

"That what's wrong? You can't fathom ever being with me?" she snaps. I freeze.

"No," I say eventually. "I meant, like, them trying to force it, but..." I swallow, my voice lowering to a whisper. "Do you want this, El?"

She shrugs, evading my question with one of her own.

"Do you?"

Silence. I don't even know what to say. I guess I thought that, well, maybe...but this is Eleanor. The girl I made a pact with when we were young to always be friends. The girl who agreed with me that kissing was disgusting and that only losers needed love. After all, we had said, we never needed anything beside each other.

But that's the problem. When I was sent to school, I needed friends. I needed to feel welcome, and like I was a part of something. When I was taken away from that, I needed an escape. I needed someone who never expected anything from me, but believed I could do anything. And now, I need freedom. I can't be what people want me to be, not anymore. But I'm not sure what I'd do if Eleanor wasn't a part of it. For the longest time, she was my freedom. It kills me to think I might lose her.

But it kills me even more to stay contained.

"No," I whisper, hating the betrayal rolling across her features like a thunderstorm. "I don't."

"Why?" I blink, and all of a sudden her words are burning with fury.

"Why am I not enough, huh? I've been here through everything. And you just discard me like that, and I don't even know what-" she cuts off, her eyes widening. "Oh no. Don't tell me it's because if him?" she accuses. It would have hurt less if she had slapped me.

"Eleanor-"

"You've known him for, what, a few weeks? What does he have that I don't? I'm what your parents want. I can help you succeed, I have the money to support you were things to fail-"

"That's the problem, okay?" I shout. She falls silent, and I don't blame her. I've never yelled at her before.

"This house? This giant fucking house, with its stupid-ass chandeliers and marble floor and insufferable people? It's my prison, Eleanor. You get to leave. You get to see other people, go out to eat, shop, play, whatever the hell you want. I do everything they ask because if I don't they'll find ways to punish me even more, and I'm already struggling. And Harry saw that, and he taught me to live for myself, not for parents who care more about what their son can do for their business than the actual person he is. My mother was convinced I loved literature, which I hate but I'm forced to do because my father somehow thinks it's important. And how can I blame her? I barely knew who I was, what I liked, before these last weeks. So, yeah, I have a problem with them trying to force me into a relationship I don't want when they've already taken everything else from me!"

I realize what I've said too late as her face hardens.

"Wait, El, you know I didn't mean it like that-"

"Do I?" she asks, tears stinging her eyes. "Because I'm pretty sure you just made it very, very clear what you want, and it's not me."

"Eleanor, come on, you know you're my best friend," I plead. She looks so sad that it knocks me back a step, tearing my heart into tiny pieces.

"I don't know that," she whispers. Brutally honest. Painfully clear.

She doesn't believe me. Even after everything, she doesn't believe me.

I don't try to stop her as she hurries away, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. I can hear her sniffling, then the door to our house slams shut behind her and I truly am alone, left to pick up the pieces of the friendship I just shattered in one, terrible blow.

I sink to my knees, hiding my head in my hands. I can't help it. I cry for her, for all the hours and days and years we spent together, and for all the time ahead of us where things will never feel the same.

I don't know how long I sit there, but I feel a hand fall on my shoulder. For a moment my heart lifts and I turn, expecting to see her, but it's only Harry.

Wait.

Harry?

"You shouldn't be here," I mutter, clearing my throat. He just sits down beside me, one arm wrapped around my waist, and pulls me into him.

"I know," he whispers. The sharpness in his voice surprises me and I look up, following his glare to the highest window: my father's office. "But I wasn't going to let him keep me away."

I give in, letting him position our bodies so that I'm practically in his lap, my face pressed against his chest as his arms wrap around me like a cocoon.

"This isn't how I wanted it to go," I whisper eventually. Harry kisses my hair, his breath soft and his lips soothing.

"But it's how it had to be." I pull back a little, surprised by his answer, but his eyes are so sad that any anger I felt building up in my chest crumples to dust.

"Don't worry," he says, pulling me in again. I don't resist. "She'll understand eventually. Once it stops hurting."

"What if she doesn't?" I ask, my voice muffled through his shirt. He just squeezes me tighter against him, protective as always.

"But what if she does?" he says simply.

But what if she does.