July 3rd, 2022
The last few days have been a lot to process.
The night I practically begged Harry to stay, he was so caring and attentive. While most of the night was spent in silence on my couch while we both listened to the music I had playing in the background, occasionally turning to one another to check in, Harry still found a way to really make sure I was okay.
He took my comforter to the laundry space in my apartment building to warm it up in the dryer for when I came out of the shower. He made sure I had either coffee or water in front of me at all times. He tried to make me laugh by snooping at my desk for his ring. Anytime I glanced over at him next to me, he would pull a funny face or flip me off, actually making me laugh.
Harry also seems to have strayed away from the nickname "pink haired girl" thankfully, but his names for me don't seem to be getting any better. I'll be waiting for an ironic "Hey Big Head" text at this point.
As the night wore on, he eventually drifted off into a light sleep on the couch in what looked like the most uncomfortable position possible.
I sat next to him for a while, staring at him off and on while he slept and heavily resisted the urge to play with his curls until it got to be too much, so I stood from my spot to work my way around the apartment to shut off lights and make sure the doors were locked when he shot up in almost a panic like he forgot where he was until he locked eyes with me.
I promised him that I was okay and that he could stay or leave, but I secretly wished he would stay here. I wanted to ask him to come lay with me and comfort me, but I didn't because that's not his job. It's my job to comfort myself and I would hate to overstep any boundaries he might have. So to my disappointment, when I woke up early the next morning, he was gone from my couch with a text from him waiting for me to let me know he's home and to call if I need anything.
At this point, I've accepted the inevitable. I like him a little bit. I know he's having a hard time trusting me and I understand why, but it also seems like he has a hard time trusting anyone. I've been trying to tell myself nothing is ever going to happen, so I ignored his text and planned on keeping it that way to distance myself from hurting my own feelings.
Until he called me to ask if I was doing okay and to tell me how annoying I am.
Then those stupid fucking butterflies in my stomach showed up again. Why does it make me feel special to be called annoying? It's probably because he does it with almost a fondness in his voice, like he means like a compliment and not an insult. Or maybe it's because I've been conditioned throughout my life to think a boy likes me when he's mean to me.
In any case, I spent the following day isolating myself with my comfort book, preparing to go into a long weekend of work while feeling like I could break at any moment. The range of emotions I had experienced in such a short period time was making me feel like I was drowning.
My nightmares have also started again.
Ever night since that night at the restaurant, I've woken up in a sweat over whatever my mind decided to conjure up in my sleep. Alex is usually the star of my nightmares, whether it's a memory of his abuse or the night he died, or sometimes the dream starts out with him happy and ends in a horrific way.
I've tried different methods to get the nightmares to go away. Eating edibles, melatonin, self care routines before bed, and even different homemade herbal teas from recipes I found online, but nothing has worked so far.
But once again, obladi oblada, life goes on. The only good thing that came out of that night was the $3000 cash Harry stupidly left on his table for me when him and Zayn came to eat at my work. I was able to put most of it in my savings and set aside a little bit for something fun, I just haven't decided what yet, but I think it's well deserved.
That all leads me to now, Sunday evening after the longest weekend of my life at work. It's right in the middle of summer which means tourist season is in full effect. Sunday is absolutely the busiest day of the week at a restaurant mainly for brunch. As soon as I came home I ran a steaming hot bath and relaxed until I looked like a raisin. I did a full ten step skin care routine and put my hair in some silk rollers to make it look nice for my lunch with Gianna tomorrow.
Gianna has been a saint to me through everything. She can over yesterday to bring me a few days worth of food. Even though she doesn't know what's going on exactly, she's the kind of friend that doesn't need to know the details, she just wants to be there for me. I appreciate her and how close we've become more than she'll ever know.
After my little self care routine, I decided to come sit out on my balcony and enjoy the rare warm nighttime air of the summer. It was a sunny day and beautiful outside and it's just continued into the night. I leaned back in my chair and lit a joint, feeling the best I have all week and hoping that's an indication of a good nights sleep coming up.
My phone buzzes from its spot on the table and I assume it's either my group chat with Gianna and Joey or it's Shaye, but I roll my eyes when I unlock my phone to see the message.
From Harry: Hey ugly.
I'm contemplating actually trying to fist fight him the next time I see him.
From Harry: What's on the itinerary tonight?
He's so fucking weird.
To Harry: your mom.
Take that, idiot.
From Harry: I set myself up for that one. One point to you, cotton candy head ass.
That's a new one. But his charming nicknames for me are nothing new, especially the last few days with his sly attempts at checking on me. I guess I'll be nice and let him know I'm actually having a good night to myself.
To Harry: if you must know, i'm having a great night. just having me time. i'm good.
From Harry: Oh? Me time? Can I watch?
Fucking idiot. I hate him so much.
To Harry: i set myself up for that one. we're tied. idiot.
From Harry: So believe it or not, I didn't actually text you just to harass you. I have a question.
Oh god, that's the worst thing he could have possibly said. Now my mind is racing with what the question could be. Did his boss find anything else on me? Did he back out of his promise to cover for me? He's definitely waiting for a response from me before he asks the question, so I keep my response light.
To Harry: wow so serious. what's your question?
However, my mini freak out was of course over nothing because he definitely caught me off guard with his next message.
From Harry: You're off on Tuesdays right? Want to get dinner and go back to the garden and get high? Could be fun.
He sounds very casual about it. It's definitely strange because this the first time either one of us has actually made an attempt to just hang out one on one, without the added stresses of hard drug related incidents. But it really does sound like a lot of fun and maybe this will give me a chance to poke around in his brain.
To Harry: that does sound like fun. i'm in.
From Harry: Cool. Maybe, I don't know, dress nice I guess? Not too nice or anything, I just don't want to be overdressed or whatever. What's your favorite flower?
What's my favorite flower? Wait, am I misreading this? Is this...
To Harry: are you asking me on a date?
The three dots appear immediately.
My heart is going to explode from how hard it's pounding.
From Harry: Don't make it a big deal. Okay? Whatever.
I let out an embarrassing squeal at the text, holding my phone to my chest and giggling like I'm fifteen again. I let out a breath and compose myself before replying.
To Harry: peonies.
I can't fully wrap my head around why I'm reacting the way I am. I've developed a teeny tiny crush on him. It's a fact at this point. But I wanted it to stay like that. A crush.
I have no idea who this man is. He doesn't give me anything to work with, so my attraction to him stems from barely even surface level qualities. But there is just something about him that has me in trance. It's like he keeps up this quiet, grumpy front but when it's just him and I, I get to see the softer side of him even if he tries to mask it with snarky comments.
I just hope this is a sign that he wants to let me in.
Feeling too antsy to continue sitting, I stand up on my patio with my joint still lit in my hand and FaceTime Shaye. Hopefully it's not too late and I'm not calling at a bad time, but this is how we operate. We just call each other exclusively on FaceTime anytime we need to talk even for just a second and if the other person is busy we just don't answer and send a quick call later text.
Something important to note on why Shaye and I talk the way we do is Shaye is severely dyslexic. Any texts between us are very short and to the point and we prefer to talk as closely as face to face as we can to avoid any miscommunication.
I pace around my balcony as the soft ring of the call plays out loud when finally the sound of her picking up rings through, her face up close to the camera as she does something in the background.
"Hi!" Her eyes brighten at me as she turns her attention away from the camera, setting her phone up on something to balance revealing her folding laundry.
"Shaye! I need help or... something," I practically squeal into the phone.
"Oh god, what did you do this time? I have a kid now and we're still ride or die's but I gotta draw some boundaries—"
"No! It's a good thing!" I wave my hands as I talk and pace. "I just got asked on a date!"
"Another one?" She gives me a dumb look as she momentarily stops folding her laundry. "I'm actually really proud of you, you hot ass bitch. Continue."
"You know how I was sort of seeing Zayn? Well it's his sort of brother— don't look at me like that it's not as bad as it sounds— they're not really brothers but I talked to Zayn and it's fine! Zayn and I knew we would never work, we're better as friends and plus I'm suspicious that he's into my coworker Gianna."
It's true. Zayn has texted me a couple of times asking questions about her, trying to casually slip them in our conversations but I'm definitely onto him. They would actually be so adorable together and if I was good at playing matchmaker I absolutely would.
"Wait— is this the same guy you fucked in the bathroom of that bar and then he showed up at your door at like 3am completely plastered?" She asks with a raise of her eyebrow as she turns around to put her folded clothes in the dresser behind her.
"Yeah it's that guy, exactly! So listen, things are kind of weird with us because he may have found out that my name isn't really Cassie. I didn't tell him what my name is but I think he has a hard time trusting me. He just likes to stay under the radar. But this is a good thing! Right?" I plead for reassurance from her. Shaye's opinion is the only opinion I care about.
"You must have a magic pussy. Listen, live your life. You're doing what you gotta do. This guy seems a little shady from what you've said, so just be careful. But not only that, remember the life you live Cassie. He has a reason not to trust you," she tells me honestly, and I know she's right. I need to be careful with this for many reasons.
"Of course, I know you're right. I'll make sure it's clear that this is just casual. We're just going to hang out at this beautiful garden nearby and smoke together, it's hardly a date," I assure her.
"Well, what does this guy look like? Let me see!" I can see her attempt at lightening the mood a little, the two of us not really much for staying on serious topics for too long.
"Another thing about Harry, he has no social media. At all. I've looked, even trying names like Harold and Harrison just in case," I point out. The night after he left my apartment after dinner, I looked for him for hours, as embarrassing as that is. I wanted to try to find something more about him, but he's got to be the most private person in the world.
"That's weird. Sneak a picture in for me when you hang out. I haven't seen you this giddy about a guy since, well you know. You're not doing a bad thing, okay Cassie? Just be careful, but also remember it's okay to be happy." She picks up the phone from its spot and starts walking out of the room she was in, down the familiar halls of her family home.
"I know Shaye, thanks for listening to me. I love you, you bitch," I laugh, deciding to head inside.
Shaye and I spend the next three hours talking and eventually call it night. While it was nice to hear her voice and get some of my feelings out on Harry, it did nothing to settle the bubbling nerves I feel throughout my entire body. For once I'm actually glad to have to go to work so I'll have something to take my mind my mind off the impending date.
Date. Is this really a date? Am I really going to do this?
He's so infuriating but so fucking alluring. He simultaneously makes me want to castrate him and suck his brains out through his dick every time he gives me some vague response to something I say, any time he's nice to me for no reason, or when he calls me just to call me names and hang up.
As much as I was hoping to get a good nights sleep the next two nights, the anxiety of Harry and everything else continues to spin in my mind not allowing me to escape from the nightmares I thought I got rid of long ago. Monday passed by unbearably slow, but my lunch with Gianna was much needed, and then I spent the entire morning on Tuesday attempting to cover the dark circles under my eyes.
Harry texted me this morning to let me know he would be at my door at four in the afternoon. The clock ticks closer and closer as I get ready and my nerves are only getting worse.
I thought about it a lot over the last day and I'm going to take what Shaye said into consideration and let Harry know that whatever we do, it needs to just stay casual. I can't be in a relationship. It's inevitable that I won't stay in Seattle forever and I know I have secrets that I can't allow anyone else in on for their own good. I care about Harry and that wouldn't be fair to him.
Casual is fine though. Casual hangouts, casual dates, casual sex. All sounds grand to me. I just really hope it's the same for him.
One thing he definitely won't be happy about tonight though is that I am not walking my ass all the way to the garden again. We're taking my van and I'm driving. My outfit and hair and makeup are way too cute to get messed up outside, especially if it rains again.
I wanted to be cute but comfortable, so I have on a short, black, wraparound romper with black sandals. My hair is in my signature half up space buns and I find myself ready to go with my tote bag in my lap at 3:30 staring at the clock on my phone.
I want so badly for this to be a good day for us. I can't help but feel anxious considering the last time we were in the garden we had a huge falling out. We've come a long way since then and I really don't want to fuck this up. At least I have an idea of some of his boundaries. My plan is to let him come to me and I'll follow suit. The ball is in his court.
I can't lie and say that I don't spend time daydreaming of being able to touch him. To be able to innocently run my fingers through his curls, to lean my head on his shoulder when he's sitting near me, to reach out and hold his hand when I feel the need for physical touch. Physical touch is my main love language in both romantic and platonic relationships. It's how I communicate and like to be communicated with. It grounds me, it gives me reassurance and ease and it's so difficult for me to not just rest my hand on Harry's arm when I'm talking to him because it's a reflex for me.
But of course I would do that for him. I want him to know he's safe with me and he can come to me on his own terms.
The night we fucked in the bathroom at Eddie's, he seemed like he felt a little more comfortable with the physical touches, but I can understand how that's different. It's the heat of the moment, it's almost necessary for some sort of touch to happen. Physical touch outside of sex can be very vulnerable and it makes me wonder what made him the way that he is.
My thoughts come to an abrupt halt when three loud knocks at my door startle me making me flinch and immediately stand up, pulling my romper from between my thighs to straighten out before I walk casually to the door, trying not to look like I'm about to pee my pants.
"Well look who decided to show up," I tease Harry, glancing at the clock on my stove showing 4:01pm.
"And I was just about to tell you how nice you look. You ready to go?" He steps to the side to allow me to shut my front door behind me and lock it.
I want to tell Harry how nice he looks. He always cleans up so well. His chocolate brown hair seems to get longer every time I see him, even though it hasn't even been a week since the last time we were together. It's just brushing his shoulders, with one unruly curl falling in front of his face, the rest falling around in waves and ringlets looking so soft. It matches the rest of him, which is looking so soft but yet somehow so sharp at the same time.
I'm immediately imagining a future where I can steal his short sleeve black and white floral shirt, but just as quickly as the thought pops into my head, I'm shoving it away into the back of my head to forget about it. The shirt pairs well with his black jeans and black vans. He's also got on all his rings again and his nails are painted a pretty lilac color, which makes me swoon all over again.
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever," I wave him off. "We're not going out the normal way. Follow me."
He cocks an eyebrow at me but says nothing, following me down the opposite end of the hallway towards the other set of stairs near the elevators for the building that will lead us to the back where the parking spaces are located for the residents.
This part of the building is a little eery. The lights leading down the hallway have been out since I moved in with no sign of being fixed any time soon and the inside stairwell is almost always completely desolate and freezing cold.
"Where are you taking me? If you didn't want to go with me you could have just said no, not kill me." The door to the stairwell slams behind him and our voices and steps echo loudly as we make our way down.
"You're so dramatic," I roll my eyes. We continue down the short flight of stairs to the exit doors at the bottom and step out into the bright light of the outside, another warm and sunny day greeting us with a sign that this will be good night.
"I didn't even know this part of the building existed. I always wondered if there was an elevator," he hums, scanning the parking lot in confusion. "You gonna tell me what's going on in that pea brain of yours?"
"Fuck off," I laugh, taking him in the direction of my Van. "I'm driving."
His eyes widen when we stop in front of my prized possession, the only constant material item in my life currently. She's taken me in almost a full circle around the country, with only slight hiccups along the way.
"You have a car? This is the ugliest fucking thing I've ever seen in my life," he laughs loudly, peaking inside the windows. "Do you even have a license?"
"How dare you insult my child. Say sorry right now," I cross my arms at him.
"I am not saying sorry to a car. If we're taking a ride, I'm driving. Hand over the keys, strawberry shortcake." He puts his hand out expectantly but I just stare at him like he's lost his mind, because over my dead body is he driving.
"Oh you have me so fucked up right now. Get in the passenger seat." I snap my fingers and he dramatically splays his hand over his chest giving me a look of offense.
"What are you, five? I get car sick if I'm not driving. Hand 'em over." He wiggles his fingers again at me and I sigh in exasperation.
"I have a bag in the backseat. Plus, we took an Uber together once, don't lie to me."
"Cassie."
"Harry."
"Give me the keys."
"Are we already starting tonight out fighting? Do you really not trust me to drive?" I'm going to end up giving him the keys, I know it. He's so fucking stubborn.
"I'm just not a fan of being in the passenger seat, okay? I'll take good care of your 'baby'." He attempts to give me the puppy dog eyes after his little comment, and hell will freeze over before I admit that it actually works.
"Fine. Here," I hand him the keys begrudgingly. "If you so much as roll past the line at a stop light, I'll never let you in the drivers seat ever again."
"Scouts honor. Thanks, you're a peach." He takes the keys from my hand opens the drivers side door at the same time that I get in the passenger. He attempts to sit but quickly realizes I sit pretty close to the dashboard when he can't get his leg on the other side of the steering wheel.
"How the fuck do you sit like this? You're tall, how do you even fit?" He adjusts the seat and mirrors to his liking and I roll my eyes for the hundredth time in the twenty minutes.
"It makes me feel more in control when I'm on the road, I don't know. I fit just fine," I shrug.
He pulls out of the parking lot and suddenly it feels very awkward. Like we've both just realized exactly what's happening: we've admitted we have some sort of feelings for each other and now we're not sure of how to go from here. Harry clears his throat a few times and I reach up to connect my phone to the bluetooth to find something to do with my hands.
At least ten minutes have passed while I look for a song quietly and he taps his fingers restlessly against the steering wheel. I settle on What You Know by Two Door Cinema Club just to allow some background noise. The silence becomes too much for me after another few minutes and I clear my throat before speaking.
"Listen, I like you. You don't need to change anything or act any way. Let's just be us and let the rest follow?" As soon as I say the words, I want to take them back. Not literally, because I meant everything I said, but saying the words out loud sounds ridiculous.
But I'm comforted when I notice Harry visibly relax and shoot me a small smile over the center console. He doesn't say anything, but he reaches across the van to turn up the music, Burnin' For You by Blue Oyster Cult blaring through the speakers.
"Then let's do what we do best, Pinkerbell! Sing with me!"