Recovery / / h.s

Chapter Fourteen.

Lily's POV-

The feeling of waking up on Christmas morning as a child was nothing compared to what I felt now. My hands still trembled as I lay in bed and the cheek splitting smile on my face refused to fade.

"How do you know if you love someone?" He had asked. "I think I love you. Lily." His drunken voice replayed in my mind over and over, the feeling of giddiness creeping into my bones with every syllable. It felt as if Harry had taken those words and shot them straight into my veins.

Leaving him alone on the porch after a brief make out session had absolutely broken my heart. If I could have, I would have spent the rest of my night with my lips against his.

I was running on little sleep as I pushed the door open into the police station. It was still too early for any of the officers to be there, but I heard a raspy voice echo from the back. I couldn't quite guess the song he was singing, but I'm sure he sang it better than the original anyway. The voice ignited the butterflies in my stomach, the same butterflies from the night before.

He had his back to me and was pouring the contents of a small bag into the coffee machine. I figured it wouldn't be wise to sneak up on him, so once I set my things down on my desk I went and stood next to him.

"Lillian," he said in the same cool tone he always used.

"Harry," I said softly. I don't know what I was expecting, but I knew I wanted, needed, more than just an average Harry greeting.

He fumbled around with the coffee machine some more and I took the silence as permission to speak.

"I've been thinking a lot about last night," I told him, my cheeks growing red just from the thought of it.

"Last night," he repeated. His tone made it sound like he was asking a question. I awkwardly fumbled around with my fingers for a moment while I decided on what to say next. "What happened last night?"

"Oh, you know," I said flirtatiously, biting my lip. "Just this." I squeezed my way between him and the counter, smashing my lips into his. I grabbed a handful of his curls. He didn't kiss back at first, not until i gave his hair a slight tug. Once again, I was on fire.

I pulled away, a large grin taking over my features. He kept his eyes closed.

"What was that for ?" He wondered when he finally opened his eyes. His left brow was raised and confusion was clear on his face.

"I figured after last night I should be able to do that whenever I wanted." I giggled.

"Oh god," he said, stepping away from in front of me and leaning against the counter beside me. He crossed his arms over his chest. "What the hell did I do last night?" I felt my grin drop along with my stomach. He had to be kidding.

"You don't remember," I said, the realization like a slap in the face.

"What?" He asked impatiently. "What don't I remember?"

"Unbelievable," I scoffed, pushing myself off the counter. I could feel the rage boiling up. Tears threatened to spill down my cheeks as I literally stomped back to my desk.

"Lillian," he called, grabbing my arm and spinning me around to face him.

"Go away," I practically shouted at him. "I can't fucking believe you." The curse word taster bitter coming out of my mouth and i hated it.

"What the hell did I do?" He begged. His grip on my arm loosened, but he knew that if he let me go I would turn away from him.

"You told me you loved me," I shouted in his face. "You told me you loved me and you don't even remember it!"

He finally let go of my arm and I took the opportunity to get as far away from him as I could without actually leaving the place. I watched him scratch his head, a mix of anger and confusion clear on his face.

"You're right," he said. "I don't remember it and I'm sorry for that." The tension was growing with every word he spoke.

"Did you even mean it?" I asked.

He was silent for a moment, staring at the floor as if it contained the explanation for his mistake.

"No," he said, finally meeting my gaze. "No, I didn't mean it. He angrily ran his hand through his hair.

I scoffed once again. This time it was to help keep myself from crying.

"Of course not," I said. "I can't believe you, Harry."

"What do you want from me?" He shouted. "I was fucking drunk Lillian and I was upset and I needed someone."

"So you used me?" I screamed. I was grateful none of the police officers had shown up yet, if so they would more than likely be afraid of how fast this was escalating.

He simply shrugged. "I guess so." I stared at him with my mouth open in complete bewilderment. "Everything that happened last night- I just, fuck- I take it back. I fucking take all of it back."

I felt my whole body slump as I lost my balance, using the desk behind me to lean against as my breath caught in my throat and my knees buckled under me. How could he do this? How could he not remember? What happened to drunk words are sober thoughts?

"But you said- " I breathed.

"I know what I said and I lied, okay? Lillian, I was drunk and angry. I don't love you. You're an idiot to think I could ever love you. You know me well enough to know that I'm not that fucking guy," he interrupted me. I was clinging onto any hint of unsureness in his voice, as if maybe that would make me feel less pathetic. He didn't sound unsure, but I was sure that I was absolutely pathetic.

"What are we then? What is this?" I begged, the hot tears soaking my face. I needed something, anything.

"We're nothing," he said firmly. As soon as the words left his mouth, I darted for the door. I was embarrassed, confused, and absolutely heartbroken.