Maybe

Twenty Two

The next morning, I forget where I am. The bed is unfamiliar, and so is the person sleeping next to me. 

The sun hasn't risen, but I like to get up early. It's nice to be alone and watch the sun rise, and enjoy the quietness. When I stay up late at night, it doesn't feel the same as getting up early. People are still awake late at night. Nobody is up early, and the world is quiet. 

I crawl out of bed, walking into the kitchen. Harry's coffee maker is confusing, and it takes a while for me to get it right. I check my phone, finding missed messages from Ryan.

Crap.

There's a bunch of messages asking where I am, and that I need to pick up the phone. I can't call him back because it's early, but I try a couple of times anyway. 

"What are you doing?" Harry asks, walking into the living room, rubbing his eye grumpily with sleep. 

"My brother is wondering where I am." 

"Oh."

"I'll tell him I'm staying with Ella." 

"You should tell him about us." 

"No way."

"Will you just come back to bed?" He asks, wrapping his long arms around me.

"Okay."

I lay back down with him, and after pulling me to his chest, he falls instantly back asleep. I try to do the same, but just end up thinking about my parents.

Why would they leave us? It makes no sense. I mean they had put up with me for 16 years, couldn't they just wait till I at least left for college to drop off the face of the earth? 

"What are you thinking about?" Harry asks, his eyes still closed. 

I sigh. "Nothing."

"You keep sighing, so it must be something." He says, opening one eye. 

"My parents." 

"Oh." 

"Yeah."

"What about them?"

"I don't know. Why they left, where they are, that kind of thing." 

"Oh. Scout?"

"Yeah?" 

"You know I didn't mean what I said yesterday morning...right? About your parents." 

"I know. You were just grumpy."

"No I wasn't." 

I raise my eyebrows, smiling. He frowns, intertwining our legs together. 

"I forgot about your tattoo." He smiles. "What's it for?"

"I got it when my grandmother died." 

"Thats nice."

"What about yours? What do they mean?" 

"I'll only tell you one. Pick." 

I sit up, taking his arm in my hands. I trace over the designs with my finger, trying to pick one. 

"What about this one?" I ask, running my index finger over a faded black quote saying Won't Stop Till We Surrender.

"That one...Well it was the second tattoo I got. It means that this, this whole crazy world we live in, won't stop until we let go. Until we surrender."

"I like it. I think its my favorite." 

"Theres around forty two of them, so I wouldn't say that so lightly."