Thrills ⋆ Harry Osborn

⊳ 𝐱𝐱𝐢. One of the Greats

But Aldersons were critical thinkers, always in their head, always wondering how to get exactly what they wanted. They picked apart everything until it was exactly what they wanted and nothing was beautiful anymore.

Atlas' eyes turned almost sympathetic, a mix of confusion as he didn't understand why the wheels inside her head turned and never stopped, but sad nonetheless for her. He pat her on the shoulder twice in a comforting motion which made her a little tense. That's exactly the kind of affection her father showed her, and the only kind as well.

"Look, Tones, shoot your shot. If he rejects you, fuck 'em. He's not worth your time if he can't recognize that you're one of the best people in the world," Atlas told her and she laughed at him a little.

She wanted to call him a liar, because she couldn't be one of the best people in the world. She lied, she deceived, she made so many fucking mistakes it hurt – there was no way she was one of the best. But when her eyes met Atlas', she knew that he didn't think he was lying. He truly thought that about her, and all complaints melted because at least he thought she was one of the greats.

"Thanks," she weakly managed to get out, because she wasn't used to saying that and especially not when someone said she was a good person.

It was always you have great taste and you have great potential with her parents, it was never just you are great. She wasn't great yet to them, because she hadn't achieved what they all sought after. When she reached that, when she trapped a rich man and had a child, set for life, then she would be great.

"No problem," Atlas shrugged it off, because to him saying that she was wonderful was casual. It didn't mean anything, not really, and his mind wasn't doing loops after saying it. It was easy, just like breathing, but for her it was everything.

To hear that she was great, just as she was, and that she didn't have to change herself or be older was the best thing she had ever heard. Just the way she was, so she allowed herself to throw her body into Atlas' arms and let him hold her. Here, she was safe. Here, she was great.

⋆

She didn't expect herself to be as nervous as she was. In her head, she imagined herself – cool and carefree – casually suggesting that they go on a date and then kiss him and it wouldn't even matter. It would be easy, it could be passed off without a second thought, and he wouldn't see what a mess she actually was.

But now, she was sitting in Apple's Eye Diner where she texted Harry to meet her (Finn not on shift, thank God) and her leg was bouncing and she kept looking around anxiously waiting for him to show up and put her out of her misery.

This was not cool and carefree; this was nerves and not knowing how to actually process emotions. Because this was so much different from being intoxicated at a party, moving your body to the music until someone latches onto you, so you cling onto them until your lips mold together and somehow you end up running away and into a bed where you spend the night.

This was her waiting at a diner for her crush to show up so that she can confess that maybe she wanted to be more than friends, that she wanted to hold his hand, to be close to him, to call him her boyfriend and be his girlfriend, and kiss his cheek until it was red under a blush. This was so much more than one night, and it scared her that she wanted someone by her side for a longer amount of time.

She heard the bell ring over the door, causing her to jerk her head towards the noise, this time not disappointed by the person walking in. It was him. At the same time she let out a sigh of relief, her nerves jumped through her body shocking her because he was here now and there was absolutely no turning back.

It was time. This was it.

He saw her easily and offered her a smile, sitting down across from her and looking around the joint. "Nice place," he complimented, "How'd you know about it?"

"My cousin works here," she answered, not going into full detail over the history her family has had with the diner. It would be too confusing and she didn't want to spend time on those people when she was trying to stray away from them.

"Nice," he nodded, "They working here now?"

She shook her head. "No, thankfully. I checked with his co-worker to see and he has the day off."

Harry hummed, nodding his head again, hand going through his hair to comb it back. He looked around before giving her another smile which of course made her stomach do flips all over again from it. "So, you texted me to come eat some pie with you?"

"No – I mean, yes and no...I guess," she shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut before giving him a nervous smile, "Let me rephrase that: kinda?"

"Kinda?" he raised an eyebrow, looking entirely amused by the situation causing her to roll her eyes. She at least refrained from hitting him.

"Shut up. Yeah, we can eat pie here and it's great. Really, I've never had better apple pie, but also no it's not exactly the reason I wanted to meet up with you here," she admitted, pausing before continuing, "I like you. I think we both know what kind of like I mean, so yeah."

He blinked, seemingly stunned for a moment. "You like me?" he repeated.

"Yep," she nodded.

"As in more than a friend?"

"Yeah."

"As in you wanna date me."

"Yes."

"Really?"

"What is that so hard to believe?" she rolled her eyes before considering that, yeah maybe, it was hard to believe.

He shook her head, "Yeah, it kinda is. This isn't a joke or anything, right?"

She rolled her eyes. "I'm too fucking nervous about this for it to be a joke. Just go ahead and say you don't feel the same way so that I order a comfort pie."

Harry raised his hands, as if motioning for her to stop for a moment, and she almost starting cussing him out because she was already on edge and just wanted him to spit it out so that he could leave and she could cry.

Another beat of silence passed between them and it felt like an eternity to her. "So you really like me?" he asked again, this time more meek, like he was shy and nervous about her answer.

"Haven't I already said that?" she snapped at him, because she couldn't stop herself.

He smiled widely, brightly, like he was happy and she felt utterly confused over it. "I like you too," he told her.

"And you waited this long to tell me?" she cried out, "You left me hanging for like a minute thinking I royally fucked up by saying something!"

"Sorry, sorry," he apologized with a laugh, "I just – I had to process it. I never actually thought you liked me back, I mean, you always seemed like you hated me."

"I did...and then I didn't," she told him and he pointed at her, as if using that as his evidence to back up his story.

"Well," he smiled, still just the tiniest bit nervous but overall happy and confident, "Let's get some celebratory pie, shall we?"