Contrite ✓

Chapter 28.

"When did you start smoking?"

The Harry I knew from before hated everything that had to do with cigarettes, alcohol and drugs. That was probably the hardest part of getting to know him again; to accept the fact that he now was involved with all of those things.

"Three years ago, I guess," he said.

"Oh."

I watched him as he puckered his lips around the stick, inhaling effortlessly and parted them again to blow out the toxic steams. Even though I didn't want to admit it, he looked quite hot doing it.

"You don't like it," he stated.

"I just. . . I really don't have anything to say about it. It's your choice."

"I want to quit, but this fucking job is stressing me out. I know it's a lame excuse but I promise I'll stop someday." He offered me a lopsided smile.

I nodded and looked out of the window, realising I'd completely missed which way we were going. I didn't recognise the area and guessed we were in the outskirts of town.

"We're here," Harry said suddenly and put his cigarette out as he parked the car.

I got out and was surprised to see how nice the neighbourhood seemed. I wasn't sure what I had expected but this wasn't it. Rows of houses were lined along the narrow street, the gardens looking well kept and fancy cars parked in every driveway.

Harry came around the car and placed himself in front of me. He wrapped his arms around my waist and tugged me closer to him. I could feel the beating of his heart through his shirt, the steady rhythm matching the one from my own.

His scent overtook my senses and I had to hold on to his biceps as to not fall to the ground. He brushed his nose against mine before pressing his lips to my forehead.

"Hi," he smiled, making his dimples show.

I giggled and gave him a peck on the mouth. "Hi yourself."

Harry stepped back and grabbed my hand in his, intertwining our fingers. "Let's get inside. I want to show you something."

I followed him up to the door and patiently waited as he fumbled with the keys. Once he got the door open, he gestured for me to step inside first.

"This is really pretty, Harry," I said when I stepped inside and glanced around.

Not a single item out of place, everything was looking tidy. I was happy to see that he at least hadn't lost his tendency to keep things neat. The walls were painted in a light, cream colour and the furniture was white and sleek.

As I made my way into the living room, I spotted a guitar resting against the wall in the far corner and a huge flat screen facing the comfy looking sofa.

Maybe I could make him sing something tonight. I wondered if he still wrote songs, or if he'd given that up after New York.

"Thanks," he mumbled and plopped down in the sofa, putting his hands behind his neck.

His eyes never left me as I padded around the room, looking at the different paintings and photographs lining the walls.

I froze at one particular picture, the biggest one yet, hanging beside the TV. As I took in the smiling faces, I felt a smile stretch my lips. Harry had framed a picture of me and him. I remembered the day it was taken clearly, just a few weeks before he left.

We had spent the afternoon by the lake, swimming and playing various water games. Both of us had gotten burned by the sun quite badly and had to use an entire bottle of aloe vera gel to soothe it. His mum had laughed as she saw our faces when we got home and insisted on taking a photo.

I was leaning my head onto his shoulder and his arm was resting around my shoulders. I looked straight into the camera with a satisfied grin on my lips. Harry was tilting his head away slightly, his eyes focused on me. He wore a small smile and a look of adoration in his eyes.

I gulped and turned around to the same but yet so different boy, who was waiting for my reaction.

"I never got to see this picture. I love it," I said softly and sat down beside him, a heavy feeling of nostalgia resting in my heart.

Harry smiled and took my hand, pulling it to his lips to kiss my knuckles lightly. "I love it, too. That's why I thought I should frame it."

As I sat there staring into his emerald eyes, it hit me. It was so clear and came rushing so fast, almost making me gasp. But I couldn't avoid or deny it any longer.

I was in love with Harry.

Even though he'd acted like a twat when he first got back, the little things he'd said and done since then overshadowed the bad ones. He was still my Harry; kind, caring and in possession of the biggest heart.

The way he had gotten himself involved in my troubles with Adam, how he'd fired Heather as soon as he found out what she was up to, him being worried about Cole causing me harm and the fact that he'd never given up on me. I'd told him off multiple times, acted like a complete bitch and still he came back every time.

I loved him. So much my heart felt like it was going to explode if I didn't tell him.

"What are you thinking?" he whispered and grazed his knuckles over my cheek.

I took a deep breath. Was I really doing this? Maybe it was too soon. What if I scared him off? But why would he bother framing a picture of us if he didn't care about me? And the way he always seemed to find excuses to touch me, kiss me.

He was looking at me expectantly now, his green eyes wide and glittering.

"I. . . I probably shouldn't say this. But I think I'm—"

A loud knock on the front door made the both of us jump and I cursed under my breath.

Harry chuckled and released my hand. "Hold that thought."

As he rose from the sofa to let Dylan in, I exhaled a shaky breath. Had I really been on my way to tell Harry I was in love with him? I felt my face getting hot and sent Dylan a blessing thought for interrupting.

I was so stupid.