July 13
HARRY
Climbing into my bed, I was drawn and exhausted. I couldn't decipher which part of me was more worn; my mind or my body.
My body was battered and bruised, feeling the strain of my increasingly intense workouts over the last week. I had found that as a replacement for my snappy and temper ridden attitude, exercise was a good alternative to work off the energy and frustrations of my day. Granted, most of my snarky comments were still travelling through my mind at warp speed any time someone said or did something to piss me off, but I had become more skilled at curbing my immediately inclination to point out what a dumb fuck most of humanity was.
I had taken to waking early, before my preparations for my workday, and going for a short run. Just five miles, to wake my system and get my blood flowing. I was never much of one for sleeping in, feeling like the best part of the day was before the majority of people were awake. It was quiet, serene, and you didn't have to dodge others just to get around. After work, I would come home, change back into my sweats, and go for another run. This one tended to be longer, usually through the relaxing trails that I had found in the neighboring areas. I would take my time, enjoying evening air, the escape into the small seclusions of nature that were hidden within the city. Coming home, I would do some push ups, crunches, and other stretches in my living room, before retreating to my shower.
I found I was reveling in these workouts, both as a distraction and a good form of stress relief. My mind found it more difficult to think of my worries when angry rock music was blaring in my ears, my focus being on my feet pounding the pavement, or navigating the paths in front of me.
My mind, on the other hand, seemed to be working just as hard as my body. It had been over a week, with not a word from Lane apart from one single email sent yesterday. It was short, just saying she was fine, and would call me soon. Despite the fact I had asked her to at least let me know she was well, I had still hoped from more from her. Was she really that angry with me over this? Was my concern for her really warranted with this kind of a response?
Today, after a long, tiring day at work that had me literally dodging Christina on several occasions, the softness and comforts of my bed were incredibly welcome. Slipping between the sheets, I sighed loudly as I threw myself back against the pillow, my arms flaking out to my sides.
I loved my bed. This was a good bed. It was a nice place to be. The only thing that would make it better would be Lane beside me. If she would just stop being so God damn stubborn and pissed at me all the time.
I frowned at the thought of her. Why were all girls so fucking complicated? Granted, I had never taken the time to pay them much mind before her. They were a fleeting fixation, a pleasurable way to pass a lonely night. But just as quickly as they came into my life, they were gone, and I was just fine with that.
Now that I had found one I actually wanted around, I started to realize what my mates had always been complaining about. Women were unpredictable, moody, and always kept you on your toes. They said they wanted one thing, but then seemed to always choose the other. Whenever I thought I had her figured out, she threw me for a loop, changing all the rules. She was exasperating and invigorating and exciting and frustrating.
God, I missed her.
Then, of course, there was the unwelcome advances of Christina. She was another girl I wished I could understand, but for completely different reasons. Whereas with Lane I wanted to understand her thoughts and feelings to make her happy, to be everything she could ever want, with Christina I just wanted to figure out how the fuck to get her to leave me alone.
She knew I had a girlfriend, a theme I had reminded her of more than once. I had even taken a photo of Lane from our outings together in the spring and framed it on my desk as a literal visual reminder of her existence in my life. But unfortunately, Christina just seemed to choose to ignore that fact. She would approach me on a daily basis, for varying reasons or excuses, but none with any true validity. She would find reasons to touch my shoulder, or laugh at the stupidest things. I would noticeably shy away from her touch, like I did with most people, but either she didn't notice, or she didn't care.
In recent days, she had all but chased me to the elevator, asking where I was off to for lunch. Thankfully, I had taken to going to lunch with the other interns, the excuse of our camaraderie as a means of escape from her invitations. The other male interns loved this attention, choosing both to tease the shit out of me, and offer to take my place since her advancement was clearly unwelcome. She was attractive, that was for sure, but she wasn't for me.
She wasn't Lane.
Flicking off my bedside light, I turned onto my side. She would call. Eventually. When she got over being mad she would realize I only meant well, and didn't mean to hurt her feelings. She knew I loved her. Right? She had to know. I told her enough. I know I fucked up a lot at the start of our relationship, but she knew why. She knows how fucked up I am. She knows me better than anyone.
The vibrations of my phone on my nightstand broke me from my self imposed loathing. Rolling over to face the device, I pulled it to me.
"Hello?"
"Hi," she called, her voice soft. I sat up immediately, practically throwing myself out of the bed.
"Hi!" I answered, my voice high pitched and excited.
Fuck. Find some chill, Styles. Be a fucking man.
When she giggled, I breathed a sigh of relief. Screw it, if me sounding like a desperate wank made her laugh, then a desperate wank I will be.
"I'm sorry I haven't called," she said, and I could tell by her voice that she felt awkward. This was our first fight...well, the first fight of our real relationship. We fought all the time, more than anyone else I knew. But this was the first time we had disagreed in the context of being together, and it felt different than our arguments in the past. This time, I felt like I had something to lose.
"That's okay," I answered. "I know I acted like an asshole. And I'm sorry. I guess I'm just having a hard time being away from you." Pulling my feet under me, I leaned forward slightly, my elbow on my thigh. "I guess I'm just scared."
"Of what?"
"Of someone taking you from me," I said honestly. "I know you're too good for me. And I guess I figure you'll realize that at some point."
She was quiet for a long, reflective moment, before her voice turned annoyed. "Are you being serious?"
Now it was my turn to be silent. "Yes?" I said after a while.
Her annoyed huff was humorous. "Harry, do you really not realize how much I love you?" She sighed, and I could picture her shaking her head at me in exasperation. "Before I left, I knew I had fallen for you. For months, I agonized over it. You frustrated me, and annoyed me, and excited me. I loved when you would call and want to hang out, just because I wanted to be around you. Even if I never told you how I felt, I wanted to be around you. So when you told me you loved me, and said everything I had been too afraid to say, it was like a weight lifted. I could finally be honest with you, and not be afraid to lose you. I'm fucking in love with you, you idiot."
The shit eating grin that spread across my face was almost painful, my cheeks aching. Finally I laughed at her.
"You called me an idiot," I snickered, more amused by her gentle insult than her declaration and confirmation.
"Because you're being an idiot," she whined. "Harry, I need you to hear me. I love you. I only want you. When I get home, we are going to work this out and be together. One way or another, we are going to get over ourselves, and actually be together. Do you understand me?"
My smile didn't fade. "Yes ma'am,"
"Good," she said firmly. "Now tell me you love me."
To this, I burst out laughing. "I love you, Lane."
"I love you, Harry." She said, and I could practically see the smile on her face. "I know you meant well. You came off as a dick, granted, and I need you to realize you can't tell me who I can be friends with. But I know this distance is hard, and it is for both of us. There is nothing between Neil and I, and never will be."
"I know," I said, trying to convince not only her, but also myself.
Seemingly satisfied now that we had worked through our first official lovers quarrel, she chose to change topics. "So how is work?"
This launched us both into a foray of our usual topics; work, my runs, her surroundings. They were the same things we always talked about, and yet, each time I was captivated by her. I longed for her to come home, so I could see her, and hear her voice in person. So I could tuck her hair behind her ear, and I could make her laugh, watch her turn red when I made a crude remark.
My mind drifted over to my internet explorations of lately, looking at apartments and jobs back in New York. We both seemed to be resolved to working our relationship out once she came home, but had yet to actually discuss our arrangement directly. Since we were both seemingly in a more open and honest state this evening, I decided to take a chance.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Sure," she said, her voice cautious.
I swallowed, trying to push back my nerves. "What are your plans for when you get home?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, where do you want to live? What do you want to do?" I clarified. "I want to be with you, and I guess I'm just trying to figure out the best way to do that."
She was quiet for a moment, and I could tell she was considering what I was asking.
"I haven't thought much about it yet, to be honest," she answered. "I suppose my original plan was to move back in with Mia, and either stay on at NG if they wanted or use the experience to find another position."
Gathering my nerve, I asked my next question.
"Would you consider moving to Seattle?"
I could hear the small intake of breath through the phone, and inwardly cringed. Maybe it was too soon to mention this.
I opened my mouth to say something, anything to ease the awkwardness I suddenly felt, when she interrupted me.
"I mean, if I found a good position, I'm not opposed to it,"
My mouth fell slack, and I could have sworn my heart stopped.
"Not right away," she amended. "I mean, I would have to figure how what options I had. But I know you love it there, so if a good job came up, then yes."
"Seriously?" I said, blurting out my excitement.
Again, her giggle breathed life into me. "Yes, Harry," she laughed. "Would you consider coming back to New York, if I stayed on with NG?"
I had already considered this question, knowing the likelihood of my return to New York was more probable than her move to Seattle. I could work in publishing there just as easily, if not more so, than in Seattle. New York was a hub of every type of media, and would be the logical choice for both of us. And in reality, I only wanted to escape to the West coast as a form of solace...to literally leave behind everything I knew.
But now, it was different. I had something worth going back for.
"Yeah," I breathed, feeling sure for the first time in ages. "If it was what worked out best for us, then I would come back."
"So, I guess we just wait and see when I come home," she said softly. "I should know within the first couple of weeks if I am going to be kept on with NG with any form of permanency. And even if I just freelance, I should know if I have any other opportunities lined up."
"I suppose I can start looking in to publishing houses back in New York," I added, propping myself up on my arm. "The house I work out of now has an affiliate in New York, so it might not be too difficult to transfer if there was an open spot."
She laughed a light, easy, nervous laugh. "So, we're actually working out our plans together, then?" she queried. "This is so unlike us. Usually we just leave everything to fate."
I snorted at her observation. "Yeah, well, that got us together, but also thousands of miles apart. I say this time we put a little effort in."
"Deal," she giggled, before I heard her name called in the distance. "I'm sorry, I have to go. We're leaving for our site clinic."
"Okay. Call me soon,"
"I will," she promised, and I could hear her shuffling around. "I love you,"
"I love you, too."
Hanging up the phone, I leaned back against my pillow with a groan of relief. Thank God. In such a short conversation, we had apologized, made up, moved forward, and even started to plan our lives together.
It was so unlike us. But exactly what we needed.