A/N: Ahh, the longest chapter in the entire story has now been edited to be even longer ... enjoy xx
Felicity
"So this one here turns the whole system on, got it?" Andy looks at me as he points to a button on the television remote.
I nod my head, trying to remember everything he's told me so far about working the TV. I thought I could just press the ON button and it would be fine, but apparently there are a lot more settings to this specific TV than normal. "I think I got it."
He laughs at the confused expression on my face before he continues to explain where everything is in his little apartment. At this point I'm not paying attention anymore. I'm sure Harry knows how to work a television if I really feel like watching anything, and I'm pretty certain I can find whatever I need in this place if I just search a little. I'm so exhausted and still slightly hungover from last night, I might even just sleep the entire time Andy is away at his friend's birthday party.
As he fixes his hair and steps away from the couch, I glance at the kitchen to see Harry and Maz chatting about some guy named Liam. This is probably the same Liam they were speaking of yesterday and probably the same one Harry spoke of earlier today that he didn't know where he lived. But eavesdropping on this conversation now, it seems as if he's found out this Liam guy currently resides in Las Vegas. Apparently this guy has opened a club and is doing really well over there, which would make sense because I'm sure Vegas clubs are always packed.
I've always wondered what that city is like. Is it as crazy and exciting as people make it out to be? Is it actually really boring? I wish I could go there and find out for myself. I remember watching a season of The Real World in which they stayed in Las Vegas, and it looked like a very fun city to visit. Maybe I'll bring it up to Harry and we can make a stop over there. We will be killing two birds with one stone: I get to visit a city I haven't been to and Harry can see his friend, Liam.
The sound of my phone beginning to ring startles me. I've barely touched it all day, I almost forgot I even had one with me. I know it's Colton calling, as he's been the only one calling and texting all day. I don't want to answer it, and seeing as my phone is across the room, I don't feel like running over and turning off the ringer.
Andy, on the other hand, feels very differently.
He takes it upon himself to grab my phone, staring down at the screen before looking over at me. I can see Harry sitting in the kitchen, watching Andy both nervously and curiously. If I could read his mind, I'm sure he would be urging my friend to put the device down immediately. For everyone's sake, it's best if Andy drops the phone now. Answering a call from Colton would be a disaster. Colton hates Andy, and finding out I'm currently hanging out with him would pretty much be the end of the world.
There's a smirk across Andy's face as he stares at the screen, his thumb hovering over the answer button. It's becoming more and more obvious to me that he's going to take this call and my heart rate instantly spikes. My eyes grow wide as I nearly jump over the couch.
"Andy, no! Please don't!"
But before I can get to him, he swipes his thumb over the screen and answers the call.
"Papa Olesen! ... Yes, it's Andy! You remember me, right? ... I know, it's been so long. How's my favorite dad doing?"
He looks at me with a grin from ear to ear. My body instantly relaxes knowing it's just my dad on the line instead of Colton. My dad: Andy's number one fan. I don't know why he loves him so much. He took a liking to Andy when we were younger and in middle school. Maybe it just had to deal with the fact that Andy was over all the time, my dad thought of him as his own son. I'm an only child so I can understand why my father was keen on having a young kid around to do guy stuff. I mean, one time Andy came over just to play catch with my dad in the backyard. They threw a baseball back and forth for an hour before my dad decided to teach him how to grill burgers for lunch. It's a weird relationship.
Maz rolls his eyes before he and Harry laugh, going back to their conversation. I walk over to the couch and sit down while I wait for my phone to be available. Andy and my dad chat for such a long time, I consider taking a nap. Eventually he walks over and hands me the phone, a wide smile on his lips.
"Your dad is still so fucking cool."
I laugh as I grab the device and hold it to my ear, waving him away. "Hey, Dad."
"Felicity, I didn't know you were with Andy!" His tone of voice is so much lighter and happier than my mother's. It instantly brings a smile to my face. "When was the last time the two of you talked? I thought you weren't friends anymore."
"Well, I guess you could say we've patched things up. I stopped in Austin on my way to California and I happened to run into him, so we've been hanging out."
"I'm glad to hear you two are on the mend. It made me sad when I found out you weren't friends. He's a good kid, you know."
"He really is," I smile as I look over at Andy. He's now joined the conversation between Harry and Maz, the three of them laughing amongst each other.
"So tell me about this trip that you've been on. Your mother said you're with some guy that isn't Colton."
My nerves resurface and prevent me from answering right away. I have no idea what she's told him already, and I don't know what he's going to say about it. He doesn't sound upset or anything like that. He just seems curious to know what's happening. That could be a good sign, but if this conversation turns out anything like it did with my mother, I might actually cry.
"Oh, um. Yeah, I am. Are you with her right now?"
"No, I'm on my own. I'm in the car driving into the city. Work has me down there for a few days."
Even though he can't see me, I'm nodding my head in response. I don't think I want to be around the guys as I have this conversation with my dad. Who knows how it will turn out. I don't need to embarrass myself in front of them if I start crying.
I get up from the couch and walk towards the front door, waving at the three guys before I step out into the hallway. I thought about walking out onto the balcony to talk with my dad, but I'd probably get too cold before the conversation is over. By the time I find an empty lounge area to sit, my dad starts to talk again.
"Anyway, back to your trip ... who's the boy?"
I'm hesitant at first, wondering just how much I should go into detail. Maybe I shouldn't go into detail at all. Maybe it's a totally bad idea to speak about this in the first place.
"He's ... uh. He's Louis' friend."
"Is that Sierra's brother?"
"Yep, that's Louis."
"Well, is his friend a good kid?"
"I think he is."
"I'll take your word for it. I trust you're making good decisions doing whatever it is that you are doing. How is Colton doing in all this?"
I deeply sigh at the mention of his name. Just thinking about him makes me want to throw up. But that also makes me want to laugh because I never thought I would feel this way about him. For all I was aware of, I assumed I'd spend the rest of my life with him. Not anymore.
"He's annoyed with me. Like ... really annoyed."
"What's your side of the story? I know there has got to be a reason you're not in California by now."
His words catch me by surprise. I figured he would jump on my case like my mother did. Of course I'm aware that he's not as uptight and strict as she is, but I still expected to hear some kind of lecture. Wanting to hear what's really going on from my perspective is a pleasant contrast from having a conversation with my mother, whom always jumps to the worst conclusion.
"Honestly, I did plan to get there in three days. I had a whole itinerary mapped out and I intended to follow every point."
"Yes, of course you did. I know how you are with your organization."
I roll my eyes in response. He always makes a comment about how organized I am with my activities. "Anyway, I kind of ... lost ... my schedule. Plus, this guy that I'm on the trip with was really annoying at the start. We drove his car instead of mine, and he's been making pitstops all over the place to visit his friends. There have been so many detours. I was irritated at first, but I have to admit I'm having fun now."
My dad is quiet for a short moment, and for a second I'm certain he's going to scold me for taking so long to get to California. But when he starts to speak, just the tone of his voice makes me relax.
"Your mother doesn't seem to be happy with this, but I'll be honest, I don't see the issue."
"Really? You're not upset?" He can clearly hear in my voice just how surprised I am by his answer. If he could see my face, he'd definitely be able to see the shock that I feel.
"Why would I be upset? Sweetheart, you're traveling to new places and experiencing the difference in cultures between states. You haven't quite been out of New York, so I think it's good for you to get out and explore. You're young, have some fun."
"So you're not going to tell me that I'm an awful girlfriend for doing this road trip with a guy that isn't my boyfriend? That's what Mom told me."
My dad sighs right into the receiver, causing a painfully loud noise to come out of my phone and pierce my eardrum. "Listen, your mother is something else. But as long as you're not doing something with this guy that you shouldn't be doing, then I don't see anything wrong."
I feel a pit begin to form in my stomach at his sentence. Guilt spreads its way throughout my body, and before I even comprehend what I'm doing, words start falling out of my mouth.
"And what if I told you that I did do something with this guy?"
"That you - wait, what? Did you have sex with him?" Complete shock is evident in his voice. I'm pretty sure he even chokes on his own saliva.
"What? No! Dad, no. That's not what I meant!" My eyes are wide as I rush the words. My heart rapidly pounds in my chest as my cheeks grow warm. I'm not entirely certain if my body is reacting this way because of embarrassment or because of the thought of having - no. I stop my train of thought and shake my head. I can't think about this while I'm on the phone with my father. "No. I just ... we kissed. I mean, I kissed him."
"Oh. Good grief, Felicity. You nearly gave me a heart attack," he dramatically exhales into the receiver once more, nearly blowing out the hearing in my right ear. "A kiss is not the end of the world. Did you tell Colton?"
"No. I will but ... not yet."
I'm so nervous speaking about this with my father. I've never had a conversation with him in which I talked about something this personal. We normally chat about school and the like, never about my love life. Actually, I've never really talked to him about my feelings on anything, so I'm finding it difficult to form sentences. I want to talk to him about all of this because I want to talk to someone. I need another perspective on my situation other than my own ... and my mother's ... and Andy's biased opinion. I need to say everything out loud because keeping it all to myself is going to cause me to combust.
"Dad, this whole trip with Harry is good for me. I'm learning a lot about myself that I didn't know, and I'm getting a new look on things I hadn't noticed before."
"Okay," he draws out the last syllable before he pauses just a moment. "So what kind of things are you noticing now?"
"Well I've realized that I limit myself from doing a lot of stuff because other people wouldn't want me to do them. And now that I'm doing some of the things I want, I'm having much more fun," I lean back against the couch and stare up at the ceiling of this lounge area. I'm not sure how to go about this next part, but I suppose I should just jump right to it. "I don't think my relationship with Colton is all that I've thought it to be. I mean, he's not exactly who I thought he was. Maybe all this time I've been so caught up in being with him that I became oblivious to his actions."
"Has he done anything to hurt you?" My dad speaks up the moment I stop to catch my breath. "Because if he has, I'll come fly out there to beat him up."
"It's okay, Dad. I'm alright. If anyone is going to beat him up, it'll be me."
"Well I will help you if you need me to."
"Are you upset? I know how much you like Colton ..." I let my voice trail off because I don't quite know where I planned to go with that statement.
"Why do you keep thinking I'll be upset? I didn't actually like the guy. I acted like I did because I knew how much you liked him. He's your first boyfriend, I wasn't going to crush your heart by telling you I didn't think he was that great. I could never picture the two of you getting married, so I confess I've been waiting for a break up. If he's a jerk and you don't like him, then he's a jerk and I don't like him."
I sit on the couch, stunned because this was not what I expected from him at all. I had no idea he felt this way about Colton. He never made it seem like he didn't like the guy, so I just assumed that he, like my mother, loved him. Not only am I surprised by his reaction, I'm also surprised he trusts my word this much. Maybe it shouldn't surprise me because I don't think I've ever actually lied to my parents about anything. It's just so much of a relief to hear this from my father because it's a completely different mood in comparison to my mother.
At my silence, my dad continues to speak. "So ... you said this boy's name is Harry. Do you like him?"
My breath catches in my throat at his question. I know I just had this discussion earlier in the day with Andy, but it feels a little weird to have it with my dad. My stomach fills with nerves and my heart begins to beat faster. I'm slightly afraid that if I admit everything to him, he'll go run to my mother and tattle on me. He might not actually do that, but the thought floats around in the back of my head.
As I continue to sit on the phone, a flash of every moment I spent with Harry on this trip comes swirling around in my mind. I'm reminded of how playful he was in Hershey, how sincere he acted in Baltimore, and how well he comforted me in Nashville. I can feel the sparks between us in St. Louis, his concern for my well-being in New Orleans, and his genuine affection here in Austin. The nerves in my stomach disappear as a smile creeps its way onto my lips. Before I know it, I'm admitting my feelings to my dad.
"Yeah, I do. Dad, I really like him," I bite down on my bottom lip to try and hide my ridiculous smile. I can already feel my cheeks turning pink just thinking about all this. "He's truly incredible. I've never met someone that made me feel like this."
"Well if he makes you happy, then I'm happy. That's all I want for you. So if you're going to get rid of Colton, which I hope by now you're planning to do, I suggest you call him or send him a text message about what's going on. You two need to have a chat when you get there."
"I know, I will."
"If this Harry is a great as you say he is, then the only advice I can give you is to keep him around. Don't lose that one," his voice is warm and sincere. I'm starting to feel so much better about my current situation than I did before. My dad sighs before he starts talking again. "Anyway, how is school this year? Tell me all about it."
The two of us talk for a little while longer about school and the places I've gone to so far on this trip. I can't remember the last time I had a chat like this with him, but it makes me miss him. It's nice to have a conversation so positive and uplifting. It's relaxing and exactly what I need emotionally.
Eventually I hang up the phone and send Colton a short text, informing him that we need to have a talk. In fear that he will reply right away, I quickly turn off my phone and shove it in my pocket. I make my way back to Andy's apartment, doing my best to retrace my steps and remember which is his.
When I finally settle on the one I believe belongs to him, I realize I walked out earlier without grabbing a key or anything of the sort. I knock on the door a few times and after several moments I hear footsteps getting closer. The door swings open and Harry stands in front of me, quickly moving to the side to let me in.
"That was a really long phone call. Maz and Andy already left for their party ten minutes ago," he laughs as he shuts the door behind me. "You're not crying and you don't look upset. I'm guessing that was a good call?"
"Yeah, it was great. I feel good," I walk toward the couch and notice that the television is on. "What are you watching?"
He sits down beside me on the cushion and shrugs. "I'm not sure. I think it's called Minds of Criminals or something."
He grabs the remote and increases the volume as he props his feet up on the small coffee table in front of us. It grows awkwardly silent between us as we just sit here watching the show. Neither of us says a word, the only noise being frantic shouts from the TV.
As Harry sits beside me on the couch, I can sense that he's a bit apprehensive. He's fidgety and it's like he can't concentrate on the screen in front of us. It seems like his mind is somewhere else because occasionally I will glance at him and his eyes look like they are lost in space. I don't want to disturb him or anything, just in case he's stressed out about something and doesn't want to discuss it. But I'm dying to talk to him because this silence between us is just torture. Normally I wouldn't mind this quietness, usually it's peaceful, but since my mind is annoyingly restless at the moment, I feel the need to speak up.
I turn to sit sideways on the couch, my body facing him as one of my legs dangles off the cushion. I tuck my other leg under myself, sitting on my ankle. My heart is beating a million miles a minute as I think of what I'm going to tell him, and if I don't say something soon, my heart will explode.
"I need to tell you something," I blurt out as I startle him just a bit. He stares at me curiously and turns the television on mute, and before he is able to respond, the words just start tumbling out of my mouth. "I've already admitted this to myself and two other people, but it's extremely nerve-racking to admit it to you. I don't want to keep it from you because it deals with you, but I'm just ... I don't know how to go about it. So I'm just going to come right out and say it ... I really like you, Harry. Okay, I have feelings for you."
I can hear my heart pounding within my chest, the muscles in my body are tense, and I don't even realize that my eyes are closed until I notice everything around me is black. Why was that so difficult to say? How can I confess my feelings so easily to my dad and to Andy, but I can barely say it to Harry? Maybe that's normal ... or maybe that's just unusual.
As my breathing starts to become more controlled, I peek one eye open to assess the situation in front of me. When my vision adjusts to the light in the room, I open the other eye as well to see Harry staring back at me. He's now shifted himself on the couch to face me, and there's an adorably dorky smile on his lips.
"Why are you cringing?" He laughs, finding my nervousness to be utterly hilarious. His hands grab my shoulders, instantly causing me to relax at the contact. "Chill out."
"I'm sorry," I inhale a deep breath and slowly exhale. "That was ... scary to admit to you."
"I could tell. You spoke so fast, I assumed you just drank four Red Bulls."
I pinch him on the underside of his arm, earning a fairly loud yelp from him. "Don't make fun of me! I was nervous!"
"I'm not making fun of you!" He laughs again as he moves closer to me. "I'm just surprised by your confession."
My heart stops as I begin to think about those words. Is he surprised because I admitted feelings for him that he doesn't find mutual? Is that why he laughed at me?
"W-Why are you surprised?"
"I thought I'd be the first to crack," Harry sheepishly scratches the back of his neck and shrugs. "I thought I'd be the one to cave and kiss you, but you made the first move. And now you've just done it again, beating me to a confession."
"Wait ... why haven't you said anything?"
He furrows his brows and turns to stare at the television. "I don't know. You have a boyfriend. And I was too nervous to admit anything because I didn't know what was going through your head."
"Let's be honest, I'm not going to have a boyfriend for much longer," I scoff, mumbling the words more so to myself than to Harry.
"What was that?"
My eyes dart up to him as he watches me intently. There's some kind of glimmer in his eyes that I can barely make out.
"Did ... did you talk to him already?" He asks as he straightens his posture.
I shake my head in response, noticing his shoulders slightly slump down. "No. Like I said earlier, I don't think I'm going to do anything until I see him in person. I don't want to be the girl that dumps her boyfriend over the phone."
And there it is ... not only has my intention to break up with Colton been said aloud, it's been said to Harry. I'm sure he knew it was coming, but by the look on his face he's surprised to hear me say it. A mix of emotions crosses his face, like he doesn't know the correct way to respond. He opens his mouth as if to say something but he closes it right after, unable to choose the first word.
Speaking it out loud puts it into existence and makes it all the more real. This trip has gotten me to think about a break up with Colton, but I guess I never actually thought about doing it until the phone call with my dad and the conversation with Andy. I've realized that I really don't like Colton, and it's not just physical attraction. I don't like him as a human being. He's horrible and it's almost absurd how long it has taken me to notice all this.
I straighten up my posture and exhale a deep breath, like I'm expelling all the negative energy that Colton has instilled into my body. "I just want to make it clear and set the record straight that I'm not breaking up with Colton to be with you. I'm breaking up with him for my own good. I shouldn't be in a relationship that is so ... toxic."
"Yeah, of course," Harry nods his head quickly. "I guess I just ... I don't know what else to say. I'm proud of you. Is that weird?"
"I don't think it is. I'm a bit proud of myself, too," this time it's me that is the one laughing. "It feels good just to say that I'm going to break up with him. I wonder what it'll be like when it actually happens."
"Amazing. You'll feel like you're being set free."
I can't wipe away the smile that stains my lips as I exhale a sigh of relief. Moving closer to him on the couch, I place my hands on the sides of Harry's face. "You're the best, you know that?"
"Well obviously," he jokingly rolls his eyes and laughs before reaching out to pull me in, just enough to have our lips meet.
Now if I thought, in my inebriated state, that kissing Harry was a great feeling, kissing him while sober is even more incredible. I was thinking that it would be the other way around, seeing as everything seems to be so much better when one is drunk, but that is far from the truth in this case. I'm lost in his touch and the feel of his soft lips on mine.
His hands slowly move from my sides to the middle of my back, gently holding me against himself. He seems so focused on pulling me closer that suddenly he loses balance, falling backwards onto the couch cushions with me on top. The two of us break from our kiss and start laughing at how silly we probably look.
Harry stares up at me, his green eyes soft and inviting. The corners of his mouth turn up into a smile as he quietly chuckles. "I don't think I've properly said it, but it you haven't guessed by now, I really like you."
"Well I'm glad the feeling is mutual. This situation might be a little awkward if it wasn't."
He reaches up to push some hair behind my ear before leaning forward to give me a quick kiss. We move from our position of lying down to sitting up straight on the couch. Harry wraps an arm around my shoulders, and the two of us just sit there on the couch watching the rest of this Criminal Minds episode, as well as the two episodes that follow. We make fun of the acting in each one and toss out jokes about the characters that keep us laughing until our stomachs hurt.
It's so comfortable to simply sit here with him and feel like I have absolutely no worry in the world. I'm not thinking about anything that happened yesterday or the day before. I'm not thinking about what will come tomorrow or the day after. I'm only enjoying myself in the moment and taking in the soothing warmth of Harry's body.
As we get through half an hour of the fourth episode, Harry begins to grow a bit fidgety once more. It's entirely too obvious that there is something else on his mind, something that might be bothering him. I don't want to come off as being nosy by asking him why he's acting strange, so I just wait for him to say something.
Instead, he suddenly unwraps his arm from around me and stands up from the couch, mumbling something I can't quite understand. I watch him as he walks behind the couch, crouching down to dig into what sounds like his duffle bag. A few moments later, he walks back over and sits down next to me.
"Here," his voice is shaky and laced with hesitation. In his hand is the brown leather journal I had seen him write in when we were in Atlanta. He doesn't look at me as his eyes are trained onto the book in his hand, debating on whether or not this is a smart idea.
I feel a bit hesitant to take the journal from him. I'm aware that he's offering it to me, and I did ask him before what was in it, but now that it's right here in my face, I don't know what to do. My eyes stare back and forth between the journal and him until he wiggles the brown notebook up and down, encouraging me to take it.
"This is a one time offer. Take it or leave it," Harry raises his brows, his arm still stretched out to hand me the book.
For just a fraction of a second, I debate a little longer on whether or not I should grab it. My curiosity gets the best of me as I reach out to grab the journal and inhale a deep breath. I don't know why this feels like I'm about to read some government top secret material. My heart beat is slowly increasing, as if I'm afraid of what I'll find within these pages.
The journal is worn out and tattered, making it appear several years old. The front and back covers are littered with writing, doodles, and scribbles. There's a bit of charring on the bottom corner of the journal, like it had once caught on fire but was quickly put out. The entire thing is kept shut by a leather cord that wraps around three times and is tied off to the side.
I glance over at him one more time to ask if this is really okay for me to dive into, but he simply shrugs his shoulders and gives me a nod. Very carefully, because I'm afraid to accidentally ruin the whole thing, I unwrap the cord from around the journal and open the book. The first few pages are covered in black ink scribbles. Erratic lines move up and down, around in circles, and wildly across the page, as if they were all done in a heated moment of frustration. But at the bottom corner of the last scribbled page there's a small section that is void of any aimless doodling, rather the simplicity of a few words.
"Life is to be lived, not controlled."
My fingers graze over the pages, feeling the indentation of each inked line across the paper, before I begin to slowly flip through the journal. I'm not sure how old this thing really is, but it has to be old enough to have seen this much wear and tear. The edges of ninety percent of the pages are either curled up or wrinkled, some pages have been partially or entirely ripped out, and there are even a few pages that look like he's burned them ... which could possibly explain the charring on the corner. Every once in a while I come across a set of pages with water damage, the black ink bleeding throughout the paper and making words run together.
It takes me a good moment or two to take in the physical appearance of the journal. It truly looks like it's been to hell and back. Maybe it mirrors what Harry has been through in his life. He seems like he's been a lovable, carefree guy his entire life, but who knows if there's more to that than he shows.
I flip back to the beginning of the journal, this time deciding to go through the book to see what is in it rather than what it looks like. I turn to random pages and skim over some of what has been written on them. Some pages are entirely filled with words, others have only a sentence or two, and some even have things cut out from somewhere else and glued onto the paper. I come across a three-step method for what to do during a panic or anxiety attack, a couple schedules of some sort, and even some little lines about wanting to escape from everyone around him. One page has the words "The issue is that I care far too much about people that don't give a shit about me" scrawled really tiny at the bottom.
Everything within these pages makes me wonder what the hell Harry has been going through. I'm reminded of the time when Lou said the two of us have a lot in common and that he used to be just like me, but seeing everything in here has me convinced that she has no idea what she's talking about. None of this is like me at all. How could she possibly say that?
Each page is dated in the top left corner. By the looks of it, it doesn't seem like Harry has written in this journal every single day. Obviously by now he would have run out of pages, seeing as the first entry was written years ago.
There are two small handwritten notes carefully folded up that fall out of the journal. Harry doesn't say anything about them or try to stop me from looking at them, so I cautiously pick them up and open each. From the rest of the pages in the journal, I can tell these aren't written by him. The handwriting is different, a little more feminine and neat. I notice at the top of one letter is a date from a couple years prior. This must have been sitting in the sun for some time because the entirety of the page is faded and yellow. I can't quite read all of it, but when I see that it's signed at the bottom by his mother, I decide to move onto the next letter. There might be personal information in there that I'd rather not invade.
The second letter is short and sweet and written in pink marker with a heart at the top: It may take time but things will get better. Love you - Gem
I turn to the boy sitting beside me, an overwhelming amount of emotions flooding and crashing throughout my body like a tidal wave. "Harry, this ... this is really personal stuff. I thought you said there was nothing of that sort in here?"
He inhales a deep breath and shrugs his shoulders, looking up from the journal to meet my stare. "If I told you then that it contained personal information, wouldn't you have been tempted to just sneak a peek when I wasn't looking?"
Yes, more likely than not.
"Oh. I mean ... maybe, yes. I definitely would have been curious," I stare down at the journal in my hands and contemplate about closing it and giving it back. "Are you positive that it's okay for me to be going through this? It feels like a massive invasion of privacy."
There are so many things tugging at me to stop reading because I know that everything in here could be sensitive topics for him, but on the other hand, it fascinates me to be able to discover this side of Harry I didn't know about. I'm torn between wanting to flip through every page in here and wanting to shut it to give him his privacy.
After exhaling a nervous breath, Harry nods his head with a small smile on his lips. "It's okay. I don't mind you going through it. I promise it gets better."
I hesitate as my hand hovers over the pages. I know he's giving me permission to go through this, but doesn't it make me a bad person for reading another person's journal? But nonetheless, I continue to go through the book. I flip to a page towards the end and immediately notice that something has changed. The pages in this section are cleaner with very little angry doodling like the beginning. I've reached the ten percent of the book in which the edges of the pages aren't wrinkled or curled or burned. It almost looks as if this section of the journal belongs to a completely different person. The dates marked at the top are now just over two years ago, and everything written down is so much happier and more uplifting than the first entries.
There are a few pages with a bunch of lists, such as things that make him happy and his opinions of the best things in life and even some of his favorite jokes that he finds people laugh the most at. A decent amount of pages are filled with actual journal entries, which I don't bother to read or even skim through. I feel like I have already read enough of the super personal things in here, I don't want to pry into anything more.
Across a spread of two pages in big, bold letters, Harry has written: In life you are either a passenger or a pilot, it's your choice. Lou's name is scribbled really tiny in the bottom corner, and across the top of the page is a small drawing of a paper airplane accompanied by some cotton candy-looking clouds. I find myself now smiling as I read these pages because I can picture him writing everything with a silly little grin on his face.
I skip another section of the journal until I'm about thirty pages from the end. As I skim all the words and dates and little stick figure doodles, I come across an entry from this past week. I can't remember which day of the week the date corresponds to, so I'm not able to connect the dots from the entry to what happened that day. Almost illegibly in blue ink are the words: It's 3AM. I can't sleep. All I can think about is the idea of her with me.
The next page is dated just a couple days ago, and I think it was the day we drove to New Orleans. I start to skim the page without really reading it, and just as my eyes catch sight of the words "in love," the journal is snatched from my hands. I look up immediately, having been startled by the sudden disappearance because I was so absorbed by the pages in front of me.
Harry snaps the journal shut and hastily wraps the cord around it before setting it down on the opposite side of himself. He lets out a quick sigh and looks over to me. "Well that was it. That was the last page. Nothing more."
I just stare at him, unsure of what to say or where to start. There are so many things racing around in my brain and I can't keep up with them, so of course I say the first sentence that my mind is able to form.
"W-what happened?" The look of confusion written on Harry's face indicates that I need to clarify my question. "I mean ... um. The pages. The first half of the journal is so different than the rest."
"Oh. Yeah," he scratches the back of his neck and glances over at the television. Just by the expression on his face, I'm preparing myself for a long explanation. "Obviously I'm not the same person I used to be. You can tell just by the writing."
He runs his hand through his hair, and as I nod my head in response, he continues to talk.
"I used to let everyone boss me around. Everyone else was running my life. They all thought they had the right to control everything I did without taking into account how I felt about anything. It's my own fault. I let it happen. I was so passive about it and I just went along with everything because I just wanted them to be happy, and maybe a part of me was aware that people thought they were doing what was best for me. You know, maybe they knew what was better for me than I did. So I did whatever they told me to do."
Harry pauses for a moment, still staring at the television. It's almost as if he's telling this to the characters in the TV show. Maybe it's easier for him to talk about this like that.
"I was such a people pleaser. I cared so much about everyone else and what they wanted from me when they really didn't care much about me. They just cared about what I could be. Do you know I used to play baseball? And I was damn good at it, too. My coach expected so much from me because he believed me to be the best on the team. He tried pushing me into the direction of Division I schools for scholarships, but he didn't see that I wasn't interested in playing anymore. And my dad always tried to control what I did and how I spent my time and where I would go for school. I think he was trying to live vicariously through me since he never made it big when he was in sports. But I was doing everything that everyone expected from me until I just couldn't take it anymore."
He stops talking but he looks like he still has a lot to say. His brows draw together, as if he's just thought of something that makes him upset. Eventually he looks away from the television, his gaze moving around the room from his lap to the balcony door to the kitchen to the rug under the coffee table. I can see every emotion pass through his facial features: annoyance, hurt, anger, sadness, and suddenly all the emotions disappear. His eyes kind of glaze over as he seems to be deep in thought about something.
I don't say anything as all this happens. I don't want to disrupt his train of thought. I'm sure all he needs right now is time to think about everything and process all this information without anyone asking him a million more questions ... because I know I've got a bunch to ask.
After what feels like forever, Harry finally glances over at me. I can see the life return to his face as our eyes meet. The muscles around his eyebrows relax and the green in his eyes seems to brighten.
"I never voiced my opinions and feelings on things. I let it get to the point where I was beating myself up about it. As much as I hated that everything I was doing was to please everyone else and not me, I never did a thing to stop it. I was losing myself. I was becoming someone that people wanted me to be and not who I wanted to be. It was like ... it was like I chose to stay inside of a burning building. When the smoke became too thick to clear and the foundation of the building started to crack, I knew that was when I had to get myself out of there," he shakes his head as his eyes quickly glance at the floor before returning to me. "You know when people are placed in your life for a reason? It was just around that time that Niall introduced me to Lou. She changed my life."
A smile creeps its way onto my face as I watch him slowly begin to return to his usual self. His voice isn't as melancholy as it has originally sounded, which is such a relief for me. I find myself reaching out to grab his hand, lacing our fingers together and giving him a reassuring squeeze. He smiles down at our hands and looks up at me.
"Basically," he continues to speak once more. "Lou has a superpower of seeing into people and knowing when they're really not okay, even if they claim to be. She and I just seemed to click together and, like I said before, she became this older sister to me. She gave me all this advice and I felt like I could talk to her about anything. It took a while but she helped me to sort everything in my life and figure out who it was I didn't want to be. And now here I am ... the happiest I've ever been."
Harry forces a bit of a laugh before he shakes his head, clears his throat, and lets out a genuine chuckle. He exhales a long awaited sigh as his eyes close. He looks tired from reminiscing and explaining the whole story. I don't blame him, that was a lot for even me to take in. I can't imagine how it was for him to talk about it.
"Lou is quite the life saver then, isn't she?" I lightheartedly laugh as Harry's face softens.
He smiles and nods his head. "She definitely is. I don't know where I would be if it wasn't for her."
"I hope you've thanked Niall for introducing the two of you."
"Well, shit. I never thought about that," he furrows his brows and grabs his phone, beginning to type out a text message. "I've been giving Lou the credit this whole time. I never thought to thank Niall. He started it all."
I laugh as I shake my head at him. While he sits beside me, texting away on his phone, I really begin to process everything that has just happened. I'm starting to piece together the motives behind some of Harry's actions on this trip. With him telling me to do things for myself, to stop trying to please others, to start concerning myself with what I want, and to stop following someone else's rules for how to live my life, it's as if he has been trying to prevent me from having to go through the same thing he went through. This was like an early intervention, except I had no idea it was going on.
Suddenly I'm filled with the urge to kiss him. I turn to face him on the couch and gently take a hold of the sides of his face. Closing the gap between us, until I'm nearly straddling his lap, I press my lips against his. He drops his phone to the floor before his hands find their way to my waist.
Every kiss with him gets better and more intoxicating, like I can't get enough of them. I feel myself smiling at the contact of our lips, and soon I can feel him smiling until neither of us is kissing anymore. We just sit there on the couch with our foreheads pressed against each other and our bodies dangerously close.
Harry's eyes move from staring at my lips to admiring the emotion held within my facial features. A grin quickly forms at his mouth as his hands gently squeeze the skin at my waist.
"What was that for?"
I shrug my shoulders as I pull away, just enough so that I'm still holding onto him but our foreheads are no longer touching.
"I just wanted to thank you. You amaze me, and I really adore you."