"I can tell a joke!" Harry—Harriet, was pissed. Everyone around was seemed to have a decent joke packed up in their heads, delivering the lines and making it seem funny than it was supposed to but her—oh for the love of God—couldn't tell a two sentenced joke.
You gave her a subtle look of disapproval, taking a comb from the dresser and walking toward the woman who had come back to the studio dripping wet in a red oversized jacket. You settled behind her, sectioning her damp hair.
"No you cannot. You are funny, Harry, but telling jokes isn't your cup of tea. Just keep on impersonating, love."
Harry merely rolled her eyes, pouting like a child in front of the mirror with her arms crossed. "Where did you go anyway? You know it's been raining all day long and you didn't care to bring an umbrella with you?"
"I was...I thought a walk would help me clear my mind and..." but she stopped, pressing her lips together, eyes faltering from looking at your through the mirror reflection and down to her lap where her hands were now resting and fiddling.
You reached out for a dry towel, raking the comb one last time through her hair before draping the towel over her shoulders so it wouldn't wet the fresh clothes she was wearing which consisted of your shirt and shorts, "And what, love?"
The tenderness in your voice warmed her chest and tingles bloom in her stomach. Harry was not oblivious—not to you, not to these butterflies, not to this warmth in her chest, not the burning feeling of your hand on her shoulders and the eye to eye contact that seemed to enticed her every time. She knew what it all meant.
Your presence brightened her day like no other. You make her feel at ease when she wasn't feeling herself. You had always helped her with the infinite words of wisdom you seem to always carry with you. You stripped down her barrier and she didn't make an effort to retrieve them, she had let you because the impossible had happened, Hannah Harriet Hayes had developed an affection and admiration toward you more than what a friend should. More than what a good Christian girl should have.
Her religion often influenced her decisions, her beliefs, her actions and everything but not this feeling. You were her exception. And she knew you were gay, she knew you didn't preach God like she did, she knew of your religious and political beliefs and most of them weren't exactly what she approve of, nonetheless Harriet couldn't give a fuck about the differences the both of you had.
As a matter of fact, the comedian actress went for a walk in hopes that she could confess these feelings for you, that once she came back to the studio she would have suffice courage to do just that and now it wasn't exactly what was going on because a woman barged in to your dressing room and kissed you, right in front of Hannah Harriet Hayes.
Harriet was confused, she was jealous and crap...she was mad, but not at you though, she saw how you were taken aback of what just happened, barely processing enough to reciprocate. You were the first to pull, shocked etched on your face, with an almost wanting to vomit expression.
"What the hell was that?!" Harry's eyes shift back and forth to you and this lady who seconds ago dared to slip her tongue in your mouth.
"I heard you were with Harriet!" well as if that was enough of an explanation as to why she had to kiss you like that. "And so what's wrong with you?"
"I got jealous, (y/n)!" this was the reason why you shouldn't have asked her as your casual date during the wrap party last time. People warned you about her unhealthy attachment issue but you brushed those off. She was your last minute option.
"But why?! Why would you get jealous it's not like we have something going on between us, Cindy. It was a date to the wrap party everyone knew it meant nothing!" you were exasperated that it had to come to this. People knew you bring dates for good company not for potential relationships and you were clear with her with your intentions from the very beginning.
"It meant something to me! I like you!" she was shouting, face beet red, her gaze on your skin burned. Everything coming down to you, and all you could do was stood there, confused and defeated.
The scene had cause people to stop by at your dressing room, curious of what was happening and then there was Simon who had a playful beam on his face while slow clapping and someone yelled "Atta girl!" presumably Jeannie.
Harriet didn't like what was going on—yes, she felt relieved when you said the dates you bring to the wrap parties meant nothing because it only prove that you didn't have any feelings for those women. But she was a pang of pain because at one point you have asked her but she had already said yes to Matt just merely five minutes after you came rushing into her own dressing room, panting, and asked her to come with you. She would have said yes, she loved to, but she also didn't want to hurt Matt even though things between them have already ended and they were going together as friends. Harry wanted to come with you.
She stood up from the make-up chair, ready to leave but you stopped her, "No, don't leave. Please." Your eyes were begging her not to. A part of you knew it would be best if Harriet would just leave. Spare yourself from being humiliated in front of the woman you loved but you couldn't let her go.
"Harriet is the special girl you've been telling everyone about, right? Harriet is the one you were searching for in the crowd. The one who you wanted to dance with." Cindy said, voice breaking and a tear rolling down her cheek. It felt terrible, being unable to feel a sense sympathy for Cindy when you knew to yourself you had not done anything wrong at all.
You slowly nodded as an affirmation to what Cindy said. Then your eyes found your hand embracing Harriet's own and she gave you a squeeze. A simple reminder that she had your back, she was there to stay.
Cindy, blinded by her attraction to you, failed to notice the little interaction between you and Harry. Spitting the words with dread and hate, "Well, you don't stand a chance with her. She's just going to break your heart. She broke Matt's, what makes you think you could be any different." And she stormed off, the door echoing loud.
What makes you think you could be any different?
It was embarrassing, having confronted with the truth. The truth you were forced to believe in. For so long, you had accepted that nothing would ever spark between you and Harriet other than being best of friends, but it didn't mean you were not hurting each day and every time you would be reminded of it. You just grown to ignore it and act like it didn't bother you, grown to keep smiling while hurting at the same time when you would see Harriet speaking to someone you assumed was hitting on her.
You waited for Harriet to let you go, shame you for your feelings, for what you have done, to prove Cindy was right but your body froze for a second when the woman you heavily admired embraced you, guiding your head onto her shoulder and all you could do was soften into her touch, your arms wrapped firmly around her body.
Harriet have noticed how your face got drained from all of the emotions, leaving nothing, the twinkle in your eyes died.
"She's wrong." She started. Her hand rubbing circles on your back to soothe you, "She's wrong about everything." A spark aflame you dying hope. "I don't exactly understand everything but I—I'm..."
She pulled from the hug, her hands relocating to cup your face, her gazes were kind—never judging. "I'm in love with you,(y/n)" she paused, sucking a deep breath, her own tears blurring her eyes. You brushed off the tear that had fallen, staring deeply into her eyes that showed you the clarity of her feelings.
A burst of warmth spread fast, and wild, it coiled in the pit of your stomach. "You are?" was all you could ask. She fervently nodded, "Yes, yes, (y/n)."
And at the moment, you closed your eyes and let your eyes shed tears, tilting your head up the ceiling and mumbling a soft thank you.
When your eyes opened, you saw her staring right at you, "I'm in love with you, too, Harriet."
It was a dream, having Harriet in your arms with her tears flowing and a smile displayed on her lips saying how much she loved you again and again. The good Christian girl, the one who sang gospel songs, was now moaning into your mouth as her fingers threaded through your hair.
But even before things get heated, she pulled away, coughing into the crook of her arm away from you, "Looks like someone needs the shot." You said, taking her once again in your arms. "I love you, Harry, even when you can't tell a single joke."
"Oh come on, I just need practice."
"You do, love. You do."
Maybe Harriet couldn't tell a joke all this time because she was meant to say I love you first.
Just maybe.