You hurried outside to your car, the summer heat threatening to burn you through your black shirt. You felt the vibration of your phone in your hand, alerting you of yet another text from Harry. He'd been texting you all morning and throughout your lunch break. It had started off as a harmless conversation of missing each other when he'd reminded you what time his flight arrived. You'd been apart for over a week, resolving to short late night phone chatter until one of you fell asleep, or the occasional text that left you cold and flat. Needless to say, you were dying to see him.
As the morning progressed, however, so did the texts. His flight was delayed due to weather. He wasn't sure if he'd make it in time to go home and change, so he'd asked to meet you at the dinner party. You argued back and forth, insisting that you were fine with being a bit late if it meant you could go together.
You knew without a doubt that this text that had just arrived was him telling you otherwise, but you were already running late and needed to get back to work. You'd been excited for and anticipating his return, but now you were just frustrated and perturbed.
Tossing your purse and your phone in the passenger seat, you drove back to work. It wasn't until you were settled back in your desk, running your hands through your hair with a sigh, that you decided to examine his newest text. You were surprised, however, when you noticed the name. It wasn't from Harry. It was from your ex-boyfriend, John.
Biting your lip, you swiped the screen to read the text.
Working hard, or hardly working?
You chuckled, texting him back quickly.
Neither. Just got back from lunch.
Damn, I was hoping to persuade you to meet me for a bite.
You grinned at your screen. John had texted you out of the blue two weeks ago. At first you were apprehensive about talking to him again. He'd been the one to break off the relationship, claiming he wasn't ready to commit. You'd taken that to mean he wanted to be free to screw around, so you'd given him the boot. Although you held your head up high, you'd been hurt, your self-esteem lacking. That is, until you'd met Harry. Harry had been the solace that you'd needed, lifting you up repeatedly by his words as well as his actions.
When John came clean with you in his texts, apologizing and admitting that you deserved much more than he had given, you'd decided to bury the hatchet. There was no point in being bitter about it, and you forgave him, not so much for his sake, but for yours.
One thing you hadn't done, though, was tell Harry about it. It wasn't really that you were trying to hide it from him, but you didn't want it to become a big deal. Harry knew how how John had treated you. You'd told him repeatedly, and a couple of times had cried in his arms over it. So telling him this same ex that had made you cry was now texting you like an old friend...probably wouldn't be a good idea.
Sorry, you texted John back. Raincheck?
Better yet, how about you meet me for drinks later?
You gritted your teeth, not sure how to answer. Asking for a raincheck on lunch was one thing. Lunch you could do. Probably. But drinks after work? Besides, you needed to run straight home after work to get ready for this dinner party with Harry.
As though he knew you were thinking of him, Harry's name popped up with a new text.
Flight's been delayed longer. I should be home about 7.
Just as you were about to reply, another text alert from John popped up.
How does Margo's sound?
You swallowed hard, trying to decide who to answer first. Quickly, you typed out a message for John.
Sorry, I can't tonight. Harry's coming home.
As soon as you hit send, your eyes about popped out of your head. You'd sent it to the wrong person! Shit!
You saw the three little dots pop up, indicating Harry was typing.
What??
Calming yourself down, you decided to play it cool. It was an accident. He had no idea who the message was for.
Haha sorry baby. I was talking to a friend. Didn't mean to send that to you. I'll see you at 7.
Ok
Making sure you had John's text open then, you politely declined, sending him the text you'd originally intended to.
Oh ok then, John sent back. Maybe some other time. Have fun!
— —
"[Y/N]!" you heard Harry call from the front of the house.
"You're home!" you squealed from the bedroom.
You'd hoped to meet him at the door, greeting him with lavish kisses, but right then you were in an awkward position on the bed, trying to buckle your high-heeled strappy sandal.
"Hi, beautiful," he said in a low tone.
You looked up to see him standing in the doorway. Temporarily dismissing your buckle, you stood to meet him halfway, wrapping your arms around him.
"Mmm, I've missed you," you murmured against his chest.
"I missed you, too," he echoed, "and you look gorgeous."
"What, this old thing?" you playfully scoffed, stepping back to allow him to view your ensemble completely.
A sexy grin spread across his face while he set his suitcase against the wall.
"I'll hurry and get ready. Wish I had time for a shower."
"Go ahead," you insisted. "I don't mind waiting."
"No, love, we're already late. I'll just change."
You sat back down on your bed, grabbing your phone while Harry undressed. You'd gotten a couple of texts from John earlier. When you'd told him you were getting ready for a dinner party, he'd asked you to send a picture. You thought it was a little odd at first, but so far he hadn't said anything that made you feel uneasy. You'd sort of slipped into this comfortable friend zone unexpectedly. So a few minutes before Harry had arrived, you'd sent John a selfie in your dress. He had yet to reply.
Tossing your phone on the bed, you stood and walked to the vanity to put your earrings on. As you were adjusting the second one, Harry passed by the bed.
"Who's John?" he inquired, shoving his arms into a clean shirt.
"What?" you turned to look at him. You noticed then he was inspecting your phone.
"You just got a text from a John," he added.
Oh no.
"'Wow, you look amazing!'" Harry quoted, reading the text that John had apparently sent. "'Sexy as hell!'"
Your entire body trembled as he lifted his head to glare at you.
"Who the fuck is John?" he repeated, his voice rising.
"Um..." you sucked in your lips, wringing your hands.
"Not your bloody ex boyfriend!" Harry nearly shouted, his eyes narrowed.
"Baby-" you started, but Harry interrupted you.
"You're talking to him again? After what he did to you?"
"Harry," you swallowed, stepping towards him. "Let me explain."
His face showed no sign of willingness to listen to any explanation though he remained rooted in his spot.
"He's been texting me a little," you admitted.
"A little?" Harry raised a brow. "For how long?"
"A couple weeks."
"A couple weeks?! Were you gonna tell me?"
You looked down at your hands, wishing you had something in them to hold.
"I thought you'd be mad," you said meekly.
"Well you were right about that!" Harry turned away from you, running a hand through his hair. "Fuck!"
"Harry, I'm sorry," you muttered sincerely. "But I swear, it's harmless."
He swung around, shooting daggers at you. "Harmless, huh?"
"Yes. He wanted to apologized for everything. I told him I appreciated and accepted his apology and we just got to talking about what we've been up to, you know, like catching up. I told him about you and-"
"You've told him about me," Harry interrupted.
"Yes! He knows all about you. He knows you were coming home today and we were going to a party."
"Is that..." he paused, "is that who you were texting earlier today? When you sent me the wrong text?"
The look on his face told you he did not find it funny in the least, regardless of your trying to play it off like you had. You opened your mouth to retort, but decided it wasn't worth it.
"Yes," you sighed.
"Shit," Harry dropped his shoulders. He blinked slowly before reaching for your phone.
"Let me see the texts," he demanded.
"What?" you asked incredulously.
"The texts from him. Your conversations."
Anger building in your chest, you grabbed your phone out of his hand.
"No!" you glared at him. "That's ludicrous!"
"Why? Because you have something to hide?"
"No, I-"
"Then show them to me, [Y/N]."
You stood silent for a moment before shaking your head slowly.
"Show me your texts, or it's over," said Harry.
"You can't be serious," you contended, your voice just a whisper.
"Dead serious."
"You..." you began, but quickly surrendered, handing him the phone. "Fine."
You sunk down onto the bed while Harry scrolled through your text messages from John. You knew there was nothing wrong with them. It was the principal. Harry didn't trust you, and that angered and disappointed you.
You focused on Harry's belt buckle while he stood before you. You felt like a child. You didn't appreciate it. You loved Harry and you would never to anything to sabotage your relationship. A tear dropped in your lap, wetting your dress before you even realized you'd been crying. Sniffling, you stood up again to reach for a tissue on the vanity.
"[Y/N]," you finally heard Harry mutter. He cleared his throat. "Baby, I'm sorry."
You turned and looked at him, your eyebrows raised. He lowered the phone, dropping it on the bed. Then he stepped closer to you, reaching for your hands.
"I'm so sorry," he declared again. You noticed a glint of a tear in his right eye.
"I was telling the truth," you said.
"I know," Harry bit his lip, the side of his mouth turning up. "You mentioned me a lot."
"I did," you nodded.
"And you said you're madly in love with me."
"I did."
"And that you're happy. For the first time in your life."
You blinked. "Yes, I did."
"God," Harry ran a hand through his hair again. "I was a jealous prat."
You giggled softly before placing your hands on his chest.
"What on earth do you have to be jealous about?"
Harry grinned. "I mean...I still kinda think he's trying something. But I like how you sidestep him every time."
"Because I don't want him, Harry," you conveyed. "I want you. Only you."
You gazed into his eyes until he slipped his hands under your ears and lowered his mouth to capture yours.
"I really missed you," he murmured. "Maybe too much. It's made me do something I never thought I'd do."
"I'm yours, baby," you promised. "You don't have to worry about a thing."
You slid your hands down his torso.
"Except maybe about being late for dinner."