Stepping inside my house I feel the warmth of the heater caressing my cheeks. God it feels great to be home. I'm exhausted from all of Simon's advances I had to divert, exhausted from the excitement of the debate and all, exhausted from feeling too much at the same time. I take off my coat and scarf and rush to my bedroom for a hot shower to sooth my tense muscles. Soon I am in my soft grey pyjamas, heading to the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea, mountain tea that Elizabeth brought me from her recent trip to Greece. Good stuff! I save it for special occasions like now when I'm feeling vulnerable, emotionally empty or fed up depending which way you're looking at it. I wait for the kettle to bring the water to a boil and when the characteristic sound is heard along with the snap of the button my head is already throbbing from the alcohol consumption I'm certainly not used to.
I rub my fingers around my temples to relieve some of the tension and momentarily I succeed. I still feel tipsy if I'm being honest and I make a mental note to hold back on the booze for a while. I chuckle at the thought and I pour the steaming water into the mug. The liquid starts to become greenish and I reach for the honey. I wonder what time I should pick Anzette from my mom's tomorrow. I don't remember if we agreed on a time, or if she has piano practice. I guess I'll call early in the morning to make sure. My mom is an early riser, so no harm done.
I take the teabag, dip it once more and throw it in the bin. I hate strong tea; it becomes bitter and I don't like it. I think that I let it in too long just now. I stir the contents and laugh at how my life resembles this very mug of tea. Sometimes bitter, with a touch of honey to make it bearable but sometimes I just get it so right, that's so bloody satisfying. It's been a while since I got it right, though.
I check the kitchen clock. It's almost one a.m. I should get to bed but I don't find the strength to do so. Instead, I relax in my comfy living room armchair and I sit back, flashes of the night playing before me. Anne, Harry, Rebecca, Niall, Elizabeth, Niall and then Simon. I shut down all his attempts to get closer, to make a move. Maybe I should just give it a try. Maybe I should just give in and give him a chance. He is perfect for me. He could be a great father figure for Anzette and a great companion for me. We have so much in common. We are compatible. Both university teachers, same demands, same schedule. Maybe I should just try it.
I drink some more tea and I already feel better. I look around and my eyes fall on a picture of me and Jason from when he was well. He is wearing his scuba diving gear and he is ready to go on the boat and I am next to him in my bikini making a silly face while he kisses my cheek. We were so good together. We had so much fun, there was so much love. Of course, there were arguments but there was always love, passion and lust. I would never have that with Simon. Should I compromise or should I wait for someone who will be exactly like Harry? Why am I thinking of Harry? I meant Jason. This is so confusing. And then there is Rebecca. She is so cute and sweet and his mom thinks she is great for him. She is right. Right? Ooooh, I can't think straight with so much alcohol in my blood. Damn that thing, it goes straight to my head. I'm sticking to water and apple juice from now on.
I switch on the TV and flip the channels till I find something good. It's way too late for something great but sometimes I get lucky with reruns of "Gilmore Girls" or "Friends". Not so lucky tonight. I grab the blanket from the basket next to the sofa and spread it on my legs. No more tea to keep me warm and the heater is not enough for me. I decide on a music channel playing nineties hits and I leave it on until I get sleepy. "Ought to know" by Alanis Morisette comes up and I grin like an idiot as I remember the little performance Harry listened to while Liz and I were getting ready when we went on our first date. We made a complete fool of ourselves, yet he didn't mind. He kind of enjoyed it.
I don't understand how he always pops in my head like he belongs there, like it's his home, a formal resident occupying its every cell, as if I'm a school girl. I need to get him out of my head. Argh! This is so frustrating! No more alcohol for me for the next decade.
As Alanis gets angrier demanding explanations from her ex-lover, I hear a faint knock on the door. For a moment I think I've imagined it. Then I hear it again but this time it's stronger. I check my phone before I answer to see if there's a missed call but there's none. If there was something the matter with Anzette my mom would've called me. I inhale and exhale loudly just as I look through the peephole. My heart misses a beat at the sight of him. He is looking at the floor and then he looks at the peephole. He must be freezing. His nose and his cheeks are pink from the cold and his exhales form a steamy cloud.
"Ashley, please open the door. I know you're there. I can see you looking through the peephole. I need to talk to you for one minute. Please," he pleads and instinctively my arms cover my chest in a hug. I'm in my freaking pyjamas.
"Could you wait just a second? I'm in my pyjamas. Are you alright? Is everything OK?" I say at once before I have a chance to prioritize my questions, my thoughts.
"I need to come in now. I'm freezing here and no, everything is not OK. Please open the door," he says in a more demanding tone that I'm surely not used to.
Reluctantly I unlock the door and I step back to let him in. Immediately the cold creeps in and I feel goosebumps forming on my skin. I'm not actually sure they're from the cold though.
"How..." my voice fades away.
"Elizabeth," he informs me while I nod, certain that of course, it couldn't have taken a lot of persuasion to tell him where I lived. Thankful that I hadn't taken off my bra I gesture for him to come in.
"What's wrong, Harry? Why are you here?" I ask once the door is shut curious as to why he's left his mom and his friends to come find me. I walk into the living room and he's right behind me without giving me a reply.
"I'm sorry," he exhales finally after I offer him a seat and I'm startled.
"'bout what?" I ask again. I sit Indian style on the sofa trying to look cool when I'm far from it. In fact, my heart is trembling like a yellow leaf in autumn.
"I'm sorry 'bout my mom," he looks away from me. His eyes explore the room not because he is curious but because he is uncomfortable. They land on photos of me and Jason and linger there for a few seconds.
"She didn't do anything. There's no need to apologise," I place my hand on his knee to reassure him.
"She was impossible. I'm so sorry. She's not usually this intrusive. She-she just, I don't know," he is so frustrated.
"Harry, please, she didn't do anything. Actually, she's so sweet that she wanted to get to know me," I smile in an attempt to calm him a bit down.
"I really had a good time, don't worry," I try to cheer him up.
"Is your daughter sleeping? Did I wake her?" he asks looking at the corridor leading to the bedrooms. There's worry in his expression.
"No, no, don't worry. She's at my mom's since I was going out," I smile.
"Emm, would you like something to drink? Tea maybe? Or would you like me to call you a taxi? Did you drive here?" My words are a flowing river, I can't hold them in, anxiety finally kicking in.
"Yes, to the tea. I drove here, yeah," he brushes his hair back with his fingers the minute I get up to go to the kitchen. I pick my empty mug and he's following me. I pour fresh water into the kettle and I sense he is right behind me. I switch it on and pray my clumsiness caused by nerves will permit me just this once to not make a fool of myself. I reach for a cup and I hear him chuckle.
"You like to drink your tea in a mug with my head on?"
"What?" I look back to find him quite amused. He points at Anzette's mug in the cupboard with a younger Harry decorating it. Funny how i never paid attention to it until he came into my life, more like invaded it.
"It's Anzee's," I protest and laugh. "You should see her room," I say without thinking, forgetting that she was one of the major reasons I didn't give him...us a chance.
"Yeah, you told me before," he answers and takes a teabag from the packet and examines it.
"Greek tea?" he raises his brow in a teasing manner. "Lizzy?" I nod.
"She is precious. Greatest friend I could ever ask for." I tell him and pour the water into the mug.
"You should listen to her sometimes, then," he takes the mug from my hand and places it on the kitchen table.
"I don't want tea," he says determinedly.
"You don't?" I am genuinely puzzled by his change in attitude.
"No, Ashley. I'm not here to drink tea and chit-chat," he says slightly annoyed.
I feel cornered all of a sudden as he comes closer.
"Why are you here, then?" I place my hands behind me on the counter, apprehensively.
"I'm here because this is bullshit!" he exclaims.
"What the fuck are you doing with Peters, ha?" he asks abruptly but waits for no answer. His hands go behind his head, signs of exasperation evident in his demeanor.
"Excuse me?" I'm stunned.
"He was all over you and you-you let him," he accuses.
"From day one I knew he was into you. What I didn't know, though, was that you were into him," his manner is still snappish.
"I am not!" I bite back.
"You could have fooled me, leading him on like that," he shouts.
"I am most certainly not leading him on!"
"He was all flirty with you and you reciprocated." He is going mad right in front of me and I don't appreciate his tone or his words.
"I didn't. I wasn't ...and you were all over Rebecca. How about that, ha?" I reply in a bitter, childish manner that is so not me and I hate myself for it.
"Were you jealous?" he challenges me.
"Were you?" I cross my arms and move forward boldly when all I want to do is shrink and hide.
"I was crazy jealous," he admits and comes forward, too.
"In fact, if my mother hadn't been there, I'd –I'd," he shakes his head in anguish.
"Harry," I try to calm him down lowering my voice. He looks straight into my eyes and my hands move to cup his cheeks.
"What are we doing?" I ask him honestly. He comes even closer but dares not touch me.
"I don't want you near him or anyone else for that matter. I don't want anyone to have a claim on you. I know you don't want me but I went all cave man when he smirked at me when you led him to Liz's table."
I sigh looking down before my eyes search his. I'm faced with his forest green rubies, the most beautiful pair I've ever seen in my life and I can see honesty in them.
"What do you want from me, Harry?" my hands are still cupping his cheeks and I stand there waiting for an answer, a solution.
"I just want you. I want you to want me like I want you. I want you to suffer when I'm not around. I want you to miss me like crazy like I miss you ..." he hesitates for a second, "and I want you to not care that everything is against this because I don't. I don't care about what anyone might think of us. All I know is that I want you, I need you, I'm going mental. No Rebecca and no girl can hold a candle to you, Ashley. You're a woman, an amazing woman and I won't allow myself any less," he finishes as a tear rolls down my cheek. His hands are on mine but I still can't speak. I am in awe of his declaration.
"I am worthy of you and you are worthy of me. I can't go back to girls when I know what a woman feels like, acts like, tastes like. I just can't. I know I told you that I won't run after you anymore and that the ball is in your court but you're taking a fucking long time," he smiles at me placing his hands on my cheeks now.
"Harry..."
"Be with me, Ashley. It's killing me seeing you in that class, knowing what we could've had. I know you have feelings for me, too. If you didn't, you wouldn't...," before he finishes, I pull him to me forcefully and silence him with my lips on his. I kiss him like there's is no tomorrow and although he is startled at first, he kisses me back.
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I hope to be able to put up a new chapter this week. If you're enjoying this, please leave a comment and press that star. It's really motivating.
Filia xxx