Evie | H.S |

112. The comedown

Harry hitched up the legs of his trousers and sat down beside me. His long legs extended out towards the road and his ankles crossed one over the other. His hands in his lap toyed and twisted the assortment of rings on his own fidgeting fingers.

After a few seconds of blindly fumbling in the shallow depths of the clutch bag, I placed a cigarette between my lips and flint the lighter once, and then twice, before it finally took light.

Eyes hooded to a gentle close, I inhaled deeply, relishing in the calm that washed over me as I did.

Maybe I did want a cigarette after all.

I opened my eyes to the empty tram stop ahead of us, exhaling a billowing cloud of white smoke into the cool air. I watched as it danced further above me and then into obscurity.

"Old habits die hard" Harry murmured from my left. I slowly diverted my gaze to find him looking up at the clear sky, littered with tiny white stars.

"Hm?" I'd heard what he'd said loud and clear, only responding because my nerves made me feel like I had to.

His sharp jawline tensed for a second. I could see it as we were softly illuminated from the street lamp beside us. The overhead light highlighted the carefully carved heights of his cheekbones and the sparse, faint stubble that spread across his jaw, evidence of a few days neglecting a shave. His chestnut curls were loose and so effortlessly parted to the side. He still affected me now as much as he did in the beginning that felt like lifetimes ago.

"Nothing, Eve" he then softly sighed, looking down at me beside him.

Behind his soft green eyes, there was a thought, though I couldn't decipher it. A very faint smile curved at his soft lips for a brief moment before he looked upwards and focussed again on the twinkling stars.

I pressed the cigarette to my lips again. I inhaled, feeling the smoke plume down my throat and into my chest, before exhaling that cloud once again. A sheer, cherry red imprint stained the filter as I fixated on it pinched between my fingers. Though the Melbourne winter was coming to an end, the minute the warm sun had set, the bitter breeze felt colder as it cut through the sheer sleeves on my shirt. I shivered.

Without a second thought, Harry edged forward on the gutter and pulled back the lapels on his blazer, shimmying it off his arms behind him.

"Here" he muttered quietly. He draped the black suit jacket over my shoulders, then tugged on the same lapels to try and close it over me. Immediately I was engulfed in a warm, but distant hug from Harry. The heat from a body that I used to hold so close remained entrapped between the layer of the jacket and my own shivering body.

Harrys jacket definitely cost more than my entire outfit. I thought about him having to pack it into his travel bags tomorrow. I didn't want him to have to take it home smelling like smoke and ruining all his other belongings. Like his cologne triggering memories in me, I didn't want him to have to feel that same sadness. I threw my short-lived cigarette down in the gutter ahead of me. My stiletto stamped out the burning orange ember at the end of it, putting it out completely.

I met his gaze and offered a thank you by way of a weak smile, closing the jacket across my front.

"Does he treat you well?"

What is 'well'?

I took a moment to think about it.

By definition, 'well' is 'good'. Although it does imply a low standard. Bare minimum even.

'Well' met the traditional bar I'd set for myself. A bar that wasn't terrible, but also wasn't overwhelmingly positive, either. So, by this definition, Alex treated me well.