Fine Line // H.S.

81

I wanted nothing more than to be able to easily accept that we are still made for each other, but I couldn't stop the doubts that slowly started to creep in. The only way I believed I would be able to truly accept him back into my life again was to recall the one person who warned me to be careful of living for someone else completely instead of Harry and myself equally.

Without any control, my brain brought back the memory of when Harry first met my mother. I seemingly forgot that moment until Harry kissed me, and every memory I had suppressed of us came rushing back. The only way I would be able to fully unleash myself for him would be to find out what Jane said to him on the porch that day, and when I did find out, when he finally told me, I knew that everything was going to be okay.

Everything was supposed to be okay from that point on. It was supposed to be more than okay. It was supposed to be perfect, but for some reason, Harry just closed off.

Hearing him call our night together a mistake was the worst pain I've ever felt. It was worse than Bennett connecting his fist with my face. And then to make matters worse, my one shining beacon of hope, the pearls around his damn neck, ended up being a fallacious one-way ticket to Hell.

He couldn't even give me a reason as to why he started wearing them, giving me so much false hope in the first place.

More than a maybe?

Ha! Try me being a fucking idiot.

   Hope is simply a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have. 

After two weeks alone in a villa in Florida, shamelessly abandoning my cat Olivia with Taylor and her boyfriend Joe Alwyn, I couldn't take the loneliness anymore. It's as if my thoughts became my own toxic company, and I simply didn't think I'd be able to survive much longer alone with them.

Thankfully one of my best friends is a procrastinator and has an album to finish despite it releasing in a little over a month at this point.

My time in Miami, Florida has been mostly quiet for the past month that I've been hiding here. I've stayed in and started work on another book like I find myself doing whenever I need an escape, and I've even developed a nice tan from all my hours spent at the pool in the backyard of the villa I share.

However, this morning is drastically different and less calm than the many I've risen to in the past month. For once, the sun isn't shining, instead masked by gray clouds that cast a dullness over my room, immediately reminding me of the morning I awoke so happily in Harry's bed.

I no longer adore rainy weather. It simply reminds me of heartbreak.

There's a strange roar that reaches my ears from the busy town around me that wouldn't otherwise effect me, but this hustle and bustle is hard to ignore thanks to the cars overfilling drive ways and lining the streets on all roadways. People are gathering with their face paint and jerseys in anticipation for the massive Super Bowl this weekend, but honestly I couldn't care less.

It is only serving as a disruption to my peace and quiet, so personally I can't wait for the next three days to be over- all the festivities nothing but a nuisance.

Rolling out of bed with an obnoxious groan, rubbing the sleep from my eyes with no avail, I head straight for the bathroom that is connected to my bedroom to get ready for another long day ahead. Upon entry, I flick on the light, squinting against the fluorescent bulbs that make the all white room even more bright and cheery.

   How very.

After shuffling my playlist multiple times to find the song I actually want to hear, 26 by Paramore, I brush my teeth, pee a river, hop in the shower, and then get dressed to head downstairs.