Harry took my spot driving. He didn't want me driving, and I kind of didn't want to be driving either.
After I stopped crying, I walked out of his arms and straight to the car. I didn't need his sympathy or whatever. I just wanted to go home.
And he respected that because he followed behind me, and didn't say a word the whole ride.
I just stared out the window the whole time, and Harry kept his eyes on the road.
Then, we go back to the campus. Harry drove straight to my apartment. We didn't stop at the campus, we just passed by it. I don't know why.
When we got to the apartment, Harry got out of the car and immediately went to my trunk, and started getting out my bags and suitcases.
It was crazy, actually. He just grabbed my keys to my apartment and started carrying my suitcases to my apartment. But, I didn't follow him.
Instead, I grabbed his suitcase and put it in his cars. I had his keys in my hand, so I thought I would put his luggage in his car. It's a bit strange, I understand.
A couple minutes later, Harry came outside, walking towards me.
"I put your bag in your car." I said, being the first one to speak.
He kept his gaze on the ground. "You didn't have to do that. I could've done that."
"It's the least I could to for you to carry all my bags up those stairs."
He shrugged. "I should get going. It's probably midnight or so, and my class is early in the morning."
"Yeah," I paused. "I should too."
He walked to his car and I have him his keys.
"Goodnight, Annie."
"Goodnight, Harry."
And with that, I walked inside the building.
I walked into my apartment and noticed everything was left the same as it was when I left for New York.
I walked into my room and saw that Harry had put my suitcases and bags in the corner of it. I'm so glad because I wouldn't have to carry that shit all the way in there.
I can't believe I told Harry about mom and dad. I couldn't believe it. He makes me do and say crazy things, and he already is starting to break down some of my walls.
Only one person has ever done that and that one person is... Gone.
I didn't know what to do about Veronica. I didn't want to spend time over Christmas. I know she will open her fucking mo uth to Harry or Kelly or anybody that knows me. I can't let that happen.
She can't know about Jack either. The only person that knows about that is Harry and I don't want Harry ask about him.
I shouldn't have got drunk, but it kind of felt good to have a drink. At least I didn't over due my drinking. I've gotten better, I guess.
I know one thing. I'm going to have to do something about Veronica. I can't let Harry talk to her. She will tell him more than he needs to know and he just doesn't need to know.
He doesn't need to know about Peter. God, he doesn't need to know about Peter. He doesn't need to know about my parents. About our arguments. About the depression classes. About my panic attacks and driving away from everything, my problems, my parents, Peter. About Jack and me getting drunk and high when I was with him. About how I didn't go to Peter's and my parents funerals. About how I just ran away... From everything.
He doesn't need to know about anything.