Unsurprisingly, my parents force me to come home with them for the weekend, and though I am perfectly fine, they insist upon staying by my side the entire time, and it isn't until Monday that they are forced to leave me alone. I appreciate their concern and I also realize that they are completely justified in being worried, but still, I just want to go back to school so things can be normal again. It'd be easier to get over what happened if things weren't so different.
All my hopes of having a normal week are derailed as they keep me home on Monday, too, since neither of them have the time to drive the three hours back to school. I don't know what they were planning to do with me if they both have jobs and neither can take time off to drive me back. This is why I should have stayed, because now, I'm probably going to have to get an Uber back to my dorm, and Lord knows that travel fare would be hella expensive. Does Uber even do long distance? I have no idea.
Anyways, it's now time for my history class to start and I am stuck at home. Missing the class makes me want to claw my eyes out simply because now I'm going to have to get the notes from John, and he takes terrible notes, so there's almost no point at all. Being home is just so much more trouble than it's worth; I've missed three classes today, and if one of my parents doesn't drive me back today, then I'm going to miss two more classes tomorrow. Fuck me in the asshole while you're at it, parents, I've had a hard enough weekend as it is.
During my time at home, I have had many phone calls and texts from my roommates. All three of them called me several times that night, but I wasn't actually lucid enough to talk to them until after I left the hospital with my parents. They all worriedly wondered where I had gotten off to, and once I told them about what had happened, they profusely apologized for nearly ten minutes straight before I decided to hang up on them. I don't like pity.
Sadie seemed more distraught than the others, and she has made it a point to text me several times everyday asking about how I am doing along with the occasional apology. I don't blame her for what happened whatsoever, but she has taken the blame upon herself regardless of my protests. In her mind, since it was her idea for me to come out with them to make Harry jealous, she considers herself to be the guilty party. Of course, this is preposterous, seeing as how that douchebag is the only one that could ever be considered in the wrong here.
I am in the middle a very intense Netflix binge session when an incoming text message captures my attention. At the sight of his name flashing across my screen, I nearly drop my phone. Actually, no, that's an understatement. I nearly throw my phone at the wall because I'm too mortified with myself to have him ever speak to me again. The only thing that keeps me from doing just that is the fact that iPhones are expensive and I can't afford to get a new one. One day. One day I'll be rich enough to throw my phone at the wall and not give a shit about how expensive it is.
But alas, that day is not today and I must be a mature adult about this. I wait what seems like seventeen minutes but is actually only a minute and half before opening Harry's text. My heart is racing and I can feel the sweat coming on. Damn it, Harry. Even when you're not here, you're making me crazy.
I don't know what I was expecting Harry to say to me, but I sure wasn't expecting this:
"Hey, I noticed you're not in class today. I hope you are doing well. Like I said before, if you need me, I'm here. H."
Harry's words bring an unsolicited smile to my face, and I feel that stupid feeling in my chest again. I had left the hospital fully intending to never see or speak to Harry again in any setting other than in the classroom, but this text makes me want to break that resolution. It seems pointless to make a decision like this, but I simply can't bear to continue seeing someone who knows just how pathetic I really am. He saw how foolish I was being that night, and even worse, he saw how terribly the whole thing affected me the next morning. It's definitely a pride thing, but I just can't stand to lose any more of my dignity as long as Harry is around.
Thus, I decide that I will be kind to him, but I will also try keep him at a distance. I begin my reply:
"I'm okay, I'm just stuck at home with my parents. Thanks for asking! :)"
After I send the message, I begin questioning myself. Was the smiley face too flirty? Did it sound like I was encouraging him? I hope not. With a sigh of defeat, I decide to resume watching Netflix on my phone.
About two minutes later, Harry's name pops up at the top of my screen and I tap on it immediately without leaving an appropriate amount of time between reading and receiving the message. I mean, why the fuck not? I would just like to point out that this is not me being ballsy; it's me being pathetically excited that he's texting me.
"What do you mean by 'stuck' ?"
At this, I wonder whether I should tell him about my predicament or if I should just tell him that my parents won't let me come home. After several seconds, I decide that telling him the truth will be an acceptable plan of action. I mean, what's he going to do? Drive up here? I think not.
"My parents drove me home on Saturday and I'm stuck here til one of them can drive me back. I'm hoping tonight's the night, but they might have to work late so I don't know :/ "
Back to Netflix it is. This time, I am left watching my show for longer than I would have liked. I check back to messages and see the gray typing bubble. After noping out of there real quick, Harry's text comes in. This time, I force myself to wait a minimum of four minutes before opening it, seeing as Harry took ten whole minutes to reply. That's a good ratio, right?
I try to distract myself with Netflix, but the typically enthralling program seems to scrape by so slowly that I wouldn't be surprised if a man could drag a train with his bare hands at a faster pace. In other words, this waiting is exponentially worse than waiting for your food in the microwave.
At long last, my four minutes is up, and I tap Harry's name, revealing a much shorter message than I was expecting:
"Call me. H."
Though it's shorter in length, it is most definitely not shorter in meaning. I don't know what he's going to say to me, and I'm honestly terrified to find out. Part of me wants to ignore it, but after all he did for me on Friday, I don't think I could ever dare to offend him by not doing this simple thing.
I stand up from the couch for the first time in a few hours and grab my earbuds before walking outside. If I'm going to talk to him, I need to be outside while I do it. Here goes nothing. I press the call button and wait. Only a few seconds pass before Harry picks up.
"Hey," he says nonchalantly. His voice sounds somewhat muffled and there seems to be an excess of background noise. Where the hell is he?
"Hey," I respond, my tone both cautious and confused.
"Alright, Camryn, I– hold on, where are you? It sounds windy."
"Sorry," I mumble, moving to a shady part of my yard that is blocked from the wind. "I'm sitting in the grass."
There is a pause on the other line before Harry's laugh comes through along with his deep, sexy voice, "That sounds nice. Anyway, I'm on my way to come get you, so I'm going to need your address."
What. The. Shit. I was only joking when I mused about the possibility of this happening, but apparently, the universe took me seriously. However, despite what the universe wants, I couldn't possibly ask him to drive all this way and back for me.
It takes me a few seconds before speaking, but I eventually figure out how to use words again, "Harry, no. It's fine. My parents can take me tonight."
"I thought you said you didn't know if they could?" he questions me knowingly. I can almost hear the smirk on his mouth through the phone. The image of him driving his truck to my house gets me feeling ridiculously excited and distracted, but I force myself to keep pushing against him. I don't think I could stand to owe him more than I already do. That, and that will be a long-ass car ride alone with him that I don't want to deal with. I'm far too humiliated from everything this weekend for something like that.
"I– they told me they could," I lie, my voice not sounding at all convincing. "I was being dramatic when I said that."
There is a pause, but Harry interrupts the silence with a reply that frustrates me beyond words, "You're a terrible liar, Camryn. Either you give me your address or I drive in the wrong direction and it'll be your fault." The nerve of this boy is outrageous. I can't really turn him away now. I hate that he's coming here, but I have the feeling that he genuinely would drive in the wrong direction to spite me and that would be much worse.
"Fine, I'll text it to you," I sigh, defeated and a little frustrated. I'm not ready to face him yet, but I guess I'm just going to have to grow a pair and get over myself.
"Good," Harry hums in triumph, sounding very proud that his ultimatum worked.
"I guess I'll see you when you get here."
My voice must have sounded tired or disappointed or something, because something changes in his tone, "Hey, I'm sorry. If you don't want me to come, I won't. I just figured that I'm done for the day and you need a ride, so why not?"
I don't know what it is, but his offer to not come here actually makes me sad. Apparently, I do want him to pick me up despite what my head is telling me. With this realization, I respond a little too enthusiastically, "No, I'm sorry. I'd love for you to drive me. Thank you."
"Okay, then," Harry says, probably smiling. "I'll see you soon."
•••
Can anyone say #typicalfanficmoment
Lol I apologize for the cliche-ness but as I said in my description, this book is going to just be things we wish would happen despite these things being unrealistic so... yeah lol enjoy the fantasy, my children. I certainly am.
Thanks for reading and please vote if you can! :)
(We got to 200 reads yass thanks everyone!)
-Kate