Harry was pacing back and forth outside of the little red door of a mediocre apartment in North Hollywood, quite unsure of himself at the moment. His fingers were running haphazardly through his shorter, yet growing hair. Thoughts were spinning through his mind a mile a minute, and he could barely keep up with his physical pacing, let alone his brain.
What was he doing here?
He let out a strangled groan as his head tipped back, biting his bottom lip a little as he tries to muster up the same amount of courage he had to get in the Taxi and come all the way over here. But now that he was here, standing in front of Olivia's door at half past midnight, the courage seemed to disappear.
He seemed to have this problem a lot.
"Come on, Harry. You can do this," he whispers to himself, leaning awkwardly against the guard rail across from her door that overlooked the gorgeous pool atrium.
He can do this.
He paused his spiraling brain, slowly walking up to the door. He lifted his arm up to knock on it, time freezing as he tries to convince himself that this is the right thing to do. His mind knew better, but his heart -- that was a different story. And when it came to Olivia, his heart seemed to be winning a lot lately.
Knock, knock.
The feeling of the wood against his knuckles was more painful than he thought it would be. It was still a little chilly, given the night air, and the pressure against his bare knuckles made it ache more than it probably should have. But it was nothing compared to his insides.
He needed her right now.
Silence.
Where was she? It's Saturday night, sure. But it's Livvy. She should be home right now, shouldn't she?
Knock, knock, knock.
He can't help but think about how much of a fool he is. Of course she's not home. It's Saturday night! She's a gorgeous woman, she's probably out with her friends -- or worse! Her boyfriend. Fuck, what if she has a boyfriend?
No, it's Livvy. She wouldn't have a boyfriend, would she? Not and do the things she's done with him? She has to be home. She just has to be. He needs her. He needs her right now.
Right now, goddamnit!
Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock.
And just like that, the door flew open, my green eyes meeting quickly with his. "Jesus, Harry. Are you trying to wake the neighbors?" I angrily whisper.
That is, until I see the look in his eyes. His eyes are wide, unsure, with an almost manic haze surrounding them. He can't help but look me over, almost in shock that I really was standing here in front of him, as opposed to out fucking some imaginary boyfriend he made up in his head.
"Harry..." I console, head tilting to the side. I know that something has to be wrong for him to come all the way to North Hollywood on a Saturday night. Moreso, for him to come to my house in North Hollywood.
We didn't do that.
"Livvy," he whispers, a strangled sob coming out of his mouth, his arms enveloping me tightly as he just crushes me to him in the tightest hug I've ever received. It almost knocks all of the breath out of me.
My arms wrap instinctively around him in return, holding him tightly to me. I'm not sure what's going on here, or why he's here, but I know that whatever it is, it's serious. And I also know that it makes my heart flutter to think that I'm the one he came running to.
We stood there for a good five minutes, just holding one another. He was latched onto me like a child, and I was rubbing his back and whispering sweet affirmations in his ear.
"Shhh, baby," I whisper gently, nose against his temple, knowing that we should take this out of the hallway. "Shhhh. Come on, come inside."
He lets out another strangled sob, refusing to let go of me. He didn't want to move. He wanted to stay there, with me wrapped up in his arms -- forever. It felt so easy. It felt so....so right.
He needed me.
"Harry, sweetheart. C'mon. Come inside," I offer again, gently kissing his temple.
His nose was buried deeply in the crook of my neck. He nuzzled it in a little further and shook his head no wildly. "I don't wanna," he mumbled against my skin, sounding more like a fourth grader than a grown man.
It took everything in me not to laugh at how adorable he was at the moment. But I knew that whatever this was, this was serious -- so I didn't.
After a few minutes of coaxing, I finally convinced him to let go of me, at least enough to grab his hand and tug him inside. Our fingers interlocked tightly and just like coaxing a scared puppy out of a kennel, I finally got him inside to the safe, warm comfort of the inside of my apartment.
"Well, I see I had better go," Matt mentions from the couch. He slowly stands up, smoothing out his wrinkled shirt. "We'll finish this another time," he offers to me, nodding back to the TV that was playing Ballers.
He was gorgeous, athletic. Perfect teeth. Perfect smile. Perfect body. A little more on the preppy side -- he could probably be mistaken for a frat boy if you were the judgemental kind.
I bite my bottom lip and nod. "Sorry, Matthew. I'll call you later."
I watch hesitantly as one of my best guy friends awkwardly brushes past the two of us on his way out of the door. Before he can leave, he pauses, looking back to me. "Remember what I said. Be careful."
I nod, biting my bottom lip as he shuts the door on the way out. I lock it behind him, turning around to see a rigid, angry looking Harry. His mood did almost a 360 from the time I let him out of my arms.
"Who the fuck was that?"
I furrow my eyebrows. "What are you talking about?"
"That fucking bro-trash. Who the hell was he?" he asked, his spirit enflaming a little more at the realization that there was another penis that had stepped foot inside my apartment since him. He didn't know who he was, and he didn't care. He didn't belong here, in his mind.
"Woah, calm the hell down. In case you forgot, you came here unannounced," I counter, still not quite sure what his deal is.
"Are you fucking him?"
I laughed with a scoff. Of course I'm not fucking him. He's my best guy friend. He was actually over for take out, as he needed some help with his own girl problems, and I needed some advice for mine. But I'm not going to tell him that. Because, seriously? Fuck him for his double standard.
"Says the engaged man standing in my apartment at 1am?" I bite.
Harry's face contorts into hurt, and I immediately regret saying it.
"You didn't seem to have a problem fucking me while I was engaged..." he bites back.
Wow, that escalated quickly.
"I guess maybe I should re-think that decision, shouldn't I?" I whisper, hurt by his words instantly. Was he trying to insinuate that I was a whore? How fucking dare he!? I didn't mean the words coming out of my mouth, but it's too late.
"It was a mistake coming here," he mentions, angrily. He runs his hands through his hair again. "It's funny, I finally muster up enough courage to come here. To make things right, and here you are, fucking some other dude."
The anger wears off instantly, the loss I feel at his words stinging me like bullet straight to the heart. "Harry..."
"No...don't. Don't Harry me," he yells, fed up with everything -- with Eleanor, with Olivia -- but mostly with himself.
Silence surrounds us, the noise deafening as we both reel from the rapid change in our evening plans, the ones that neither of us were expecting.
He moves for the door, hand gripping the door knob. Just as he's about to open it, I gently grab his elbow.
"Harry," I mutter, my own sob coming out of my mouth. "Don't go, please."
He laughed, an angry sarcastic laugh.
"Why should I? You were the only hope I had left, Olivia. Now it's gone."
My heart felt through my chest, all resolve breaking.
"Harry, I didn't fuck him. He's my best guy friend. His name is Matt. We went to college together. He has a girlfriend who he's having drama with at the moment, so he came over for some ramen and to watch Ballers. I'm sorry for making you think otherwise, I just — I got pissed at the double standard," I offer, honestly. "It's okay for you to be engaged, to go back to your fiancé after taking me in my bed, here? But it's not okay for me to have guy friends over when I didn't even know you were coming here?"
I just let it all out.
"God, I've done nothing but be in love with you for God knows how long. And I get to — to what? Be your side piece? And to let you make me feel guilty for it? While you get your cake and to eat it too? I mean, seriously Harry."
He was just silent, hand still on the doorknob. He took a shaky sigh before turning around to look at me.
"She doesn't even love you. Don't you remember what she said at your birthday party?"
He nods, taking another shaky breath.
I take his silence as a cue, slowly walking up to him, hand moving up to touch his cheek lovingly.
"Why are you here, Harry?" I ask, thumb running over his cheek bone.
His green eyes look down at mine, piercing the veil intently, saying everything he needs to say without words. "I need you," he whispers.
I wasn't sure what he meant by that.
But he was.
Without letting a moment pass, he swiftly picked me up and carried me to my bedroom, tossing me on the bed and then crawling over top of me.
I didn't know how to feel. I didn't want to be some waste paper can for his semen when he got into a fight with his fiancé. I was better than that.
Once he was on top of me, his arms gave out and his body weight gently crushed mine. He pulled me to him and just held me to him, holding me as if I would disappear if he let go.
"Don't leave me," he whispers. "I don't know how to do this, but...I'm going to figure it out. I want to figure it out. I...I need to."
My breath caught in my throat at his words. "Harry..."
"It's not going to perfect, or even...even immediate. I don't know how to do any of this, but...I'm going to try. I have to try. My... you're..."
He didn't know how to say what he wanted to say.
"Shhh," I mumbled.
He curled up against me, pulling me into him and letting me lay my head on his chest. As long as we've been doing this, we've never cuddled. We've never even laid in the same bed together, not after the first time when he left.
"I don't want sex from you," he whispers. "Not tonight. I didn't come here for that. I just...I wanted to hold you. Needed to," he whispers again. "Can I stay here? Tonight?"
I was shocked at his words.
"O-of course, baby," I whisper. "You can stay here any time..."
"I like it when you call me baby," he whispers, kissing my temple.
The silence enveloped us, and I couldn't help but take in the sound of his heart beating in his chest or the feeling of his chest rising with every breath. For the first time, silence between us was the most comfortable, amazing feeling I've ever felt.
But the suspense was killing me.
"What happened tonight?" I asked, meekly.
He shook his head. "I don't want to talk about it, not right now."
"Ok," I nod.
The silence was back again, and I smiled when he tangled our legs together, his fingers getting lost in my hair.
"I lo-" he whispers, but I stop him before he can stop himself.
I put my finger to his lips. "Don't say it until you mean it. Until you can do something about it."
He just looked at me with those deep green emerald eyes, breath catching in both of our throats at the intensity in our gazes. In that moment, it felt like the whole world stopped.
"Ok, baby..." he whispers. "I promise."
—
A/N
Love you guys! Q&A answers coming tonight!!
Xo,
NB