Mark leaves Alexa and I to sit in the waiting room while he goes to find Harry. Every passing minute seems like an additional weight added to my chest, and I think Alexa might be feeling the same way. She keeps nervously fidgeting just as much as I am, but neither of us speak a word of our distress aloud. Actually, nothing is said at all. It's silent in the waiting room except for the low chatter between the nurses who are still bustling about despite the lateness of the hour, and it's this quietness that puts me further on edge.
I'm concerned about Harry's well-being, but I'm also feeling very guilty for my thoughtless actions this evening. Because I know that Harry is okay, I'm more worried about what he is going to say to me. Though he hasn't been like this since then, I kind of get the feeling that he's going to treat me the way he did at the beginning of the year. He's probably going to be all silent and passive aggressive, and I really really don't want that to happen. Because if it does, then I'm going to have to press him on what he's thinking, and it's going to be a whole thing that ends badly.
About ten minutes pass before I see Mark round the corner, walking towards us. My heart rate quickens at the sight of him, and it only increases further as Harry appears just a few steps behind him, wearing only his dress pants and his white button down. His jacket and tie are missing, and I cringe at the thought of them lying somewhere on the floor of that nasty club. I stand from my chair and immediately walk to meet them. As Harry approaches me, I see that he has a small but deep cut just on the side of his face near his mouth that is surrounded by shallow scrapes. His skin looks hot and irritated, and so does he.
"Harry, I–" I begin, but Harry cuts me off and speaks lowly to me.
"Not right now," Harry says quietly, brushing past me and making his way to where Alexa is standing several feet behind me. He says something to her that I can't hear, and suddenly, panic floods her already distressed features.
Um, what the hell?
"How did it happen?" she asks him, her eyes earnestly searching Harry's battered face.
Harry glances back at me and answers Alexa with uncertainty, "Um, well, he hit his head on the bar after–" Harry pauses and corrects himself. "He was just really drunk, so he fell into it. He passed out initially, so we called the paramedics and they took him here to look at his head. He's pissed, but his parents are on their way."
Two things. One, if Harry wasn't even the one who got hurt badly enough to be put in the hospital, why the hell did Mark have to freak me out like he did by making me think that Harry was in some kind of critical condition or something? That's just rude. Two, I'm beginning to worry that this whole situation is my fault. Did John hit the bar after I punched him in the face? Am I the reason that we're all her in the hospital at two in the morning? Maybe that's what Mark meant by me causing problems tonight.
Oh, hell, it totally is. Fuck. How ironic of me to think that Harry was the one who got into a fight when really it was me. I hope John doesn't have a concussion, because that would really suck, but given the limited information I have, I would venture to say that a concussion is probably what he has.
Serves him right, my subconscious comments, and I mentally slap her and tell her to shut up. Yeah, part of me feels like John got what he deserved after everything he's done tonight, whether it be just being an asshole to Alexa or physically attacking me. However, I know I shouldn't feel that way, so we're going to keep my satisfaction with the situation on the down-low.
Alexa nods slowly as she processes what Harry has just told her, and she looks up at him brightly with hope in her eyes, "Is he awake?"
Harry nods, "Yes. And they've put him on a ton of fluids, so he's sobering up fairly quickly. They let me see him, so I bet you can too. Mark will take you there if you'd like?"
"Yes, please," Alexa says quietly, looking past Harry and to Mark. Mark nods and she goes to follow him, leaving Harry and I alone in the hallway. I didn't realize just how much Alexa and Mark's presence had been doing to ease the tension between Harry and I until they disappear around that corner. Harry's back is too me still, and he looks to be thinking about what he is about to say. He takes his hand through his hair and sighs heavily, fixing his eyes on the ceiling before turning around to face me. The angry cut on his face is even worse up close, and suddenly, a thought occurs to me. What if it wasn't lipstick on Harry's face? What if those stupid flashing lights in the club distorted this rather painful-looking injury to look like what my drunk brain wanted to see.
Oh, hell. That's probably exactly what happened. I'm such an idiot; I probably fabricated this whole thing in my head. If that's the case, then this is definitely not good.
Harry's blazing green eyes bore into me with an expression of anger that I have never before seen from him. I shift my eyes away from him, entirely because I am too embarrassed of my own actions to begin to make an excuse.
"Camryn," Harry begins, his voice low and controlled. "We'd better go somewhere else."
Oh, shit. He's not a yeller when he's angry; he's the silent type.
I nod in response, and in turn, Harry sighs frustratedly as he brushes past me and leads me down the hallway. He distractedly glances around before stopping in front of a door and opening it, allowing me to pass through before him. It is quite obviously a storage room, and though I know it is an entirely inappropriate thought to have, I can't help but imagine having a really steamy make-out session with Harry in here like the characters in Grey's Anatomy.
Harry pulls me out of my poorly-timed daydream as he shuts the door and calmly leans against it with his hands clasped behind him. Several moments pass in silence between us, and I find that my heart rate has skyrocketed. I wish he would just get this over with and reprimand me. That would be better than this anxiety-filled silence; at least then, I would know exactly what he is mad at me for. There are a lot of reason he could be angry, so I'd be better off not revealing the things he doesn't know about.
Because hiding things from him is going to make this better, my conscience remarks sarcastically, and I can't help but roll my eyes. I know it's not right to hide things from him, but I'm really embarrassed and ashamed, so it's definitely the easiest way to go about this right now.
"Camryn, would you care to explain to me why you thought it necessary to punch John in the face?" Harry finally asks, and my eyes widen in surprise. Of course he knows about that; he probably saw it. But then again, if he knows about me hitting John, how could he not know the reason for it?
"He– well, he was being an asshole," I admit vaguely, not wanting to get Harry all angry. If he knew what John really did, I think he might go off.
Harry rolls his eyes and scoffs, "Yeah, I know. I've been telling you that for weeks, but you've never listened to me. I just thought you were more mature than to literally fight him."
Wow, okay, that kind of pisses me off. I was sexually assaulted, and Harry is insulting my maturity. I'm not going to get mad, though. We'll calmly discuss it like adults.
"You can't just go around punching people when they piss you off," Harry continues, his calm and steady voice raising just a little bit. "I would know, it never ends well."
Does he now?
"Is that how you got that cut on your face?" I ask him accusingly, and Harry looks at me, clearly annoyed. I swear, if he has the nerve to sass me about fighting someone when he has this giant-ass battle scar on his face, then I'm going to fuck shit up.
"Never mind about my face," Harry says heatedly, standing up from against the door and taking a step away from it. "I'm having to deal with the consequences of your recklessness, and–"
"Well, I'm sorry for defending myself," I interrupt him angrily. If this boy thinks he can just yell at me like this, he is sadly mistaken. Forget preventing a rage-filled episode from him; I'm going to tell Harry about John and make him feel bad for being so aggressive towards me.
"What? Wait, did he–?" Harry looks at me confusedly, and I nod slowly in response. I know I shouldn't, but I give him this really condescending look that seems to say, "That's right, jackass." Ha, take that boi. Who's overreacting now?
"I didn't hit him just because he was being an ass," I state dryly, crossing my arms over my chest. Harry's eyes flicker to my exposed chest for a moment before he questioningly looks back into my eyes. It's not exactly a great time to be checking me out, just gonna be honest, but despite that, I ignore his wandering eyes and continue, "I hit him because he attacked me. If you had walked up a few seconds earlier, you would have seen that he is not the victim here."
A silence lingers over us for nearly a minute, and I can see the gears turning in Harry's pretty little head. He looks shocked more than anything, but there's also a look of anger that seems to be brewing behind his dark green eyes. Though Harry has gotten me really worked up about this, I begin to feel like maybe I shouldn't have tried to make him feel so bad about reprimanding me. He's clearly taking John's actions very seriously, and I shouldn't have tried to use it against him the way I did. Harry didn't know about John's ridiculous attempt to get with me, and I shouldn't blame him for it.
Ugh, I guess I'll take the high road or something.
After several moments of contemplation, I sigh quietly to myself and force the words out of my mouth, "Look, the John thing doesn't matter; I'm just sorry that I've made this night go so downhill. I shouldn't have–"
"No," Harry says sternly, taking several steps towards me. "No, don't ever apologize for defending yourself." Harry's voice and expression is softer than it was just moments ago. He places his forefinger just beneath my chin and tilts my face upwards so that I'm looking directly into his blazing green eyes. "Did he hurt you?" he asks quietly, my breath hitching in my throat as his gaze focuses intently on my face. His sudden change in demeanor is honestly throwing me off so much right now, but given how gentle and concerned he is being right now, I'm not going to complain.
I manage an overly-enthusiastic smile and reply with a joke to somewhat lighten the mood, "No, only my reputation." Harry frowns, and I sigh, "He only kissed me, and when I tried to push him off of me, he wouldn't go away, so I guess I punched him."
Harry laughs softly, "You guess you punched him?"
I shrug, "Yeah, I don't really remember doing it; I just got really angry when he tried to shove his tongue down my throat, so I snapped a little."
Harry tenses at my words, and I regret giving him any more detail of John's actions than he needs. Yeah, I'm pissed at John, but the last thing I want is Harry to get angry and go all aggressive-man on John. That would not be ideal.
Placing my hand on his arm, I try to smile reassuringly, "But for real, I'm fine. There's no need for you to do anything this time since I already took care of him." Harry frowns yet again, and I can't help but roll my eyes at how protective he's being right now. "No seriously, Harry, it was like I was Hermione Granger in the third Harry Potter and I punched Malfoy in the face. Like, I really am okay. He just got a little too handsy, that's all."
Harry rolls his eyes, a smirk crossing his lips, "Yeah, okay... except Malfoy didn't slam his head into the bar and get a concussion."
"Look, that was unintended," I say, trying to fight a smile. "But I can't say that I'm entirely mad about it happening."
A gleam of amusement flickers in Harry's eyes and it seems that he is trying to keep a straight face. I think I may have finally cracked his serious demeanor.
"C'mon, Harry, he deserved it; don't you think?"
Harry bites down on the inside of his cheek and looks away from me, not willing to admit that he does, in fact, agree with me.
"I'm trying to be mature about this," Harry says, the smallest of laughs falling from his mouth, "because I'm partially in charge, but I'm fucking proud of you for knocking him out. Because now his parents are coming down here, and they're going to find out what an asshole their son is."
I laugh aloud at Harry's somewhat vengeful comment, and suddenly, I realize that with the way this conversation is going, all will probably be okay. Harry and I are laughing, and he no longer thinks I'm some volatile, immature teenager, so that's definitely a positive.
"You seem bitter," I tease Harry, and his expression hardens rather abruptly.
"No, I'm pissed," he says firmly, staring into my eyes with a familiar intensity that I will never get used to. "I'm pissed that you got to hit him, and I didn't."
With that, we both burst out into fits of laughter that last for a few moments before silence falls over us again. This time there is significantly less tension in the room than before, and I find that I am much more at ease with the situation. I think we're all good now.
"I'm sorry for accusing you," Harry says quietly, looking up at me apologetically. "I shouldn't have assumed the worst about you like that, so I really am sorry."
Harry's words both bring a smile to my face, but they also make me realize that I probably owe Harry and apology too. I shouldn't have left the party so abruptly because I suspected him cheating on me; that was an irrational thing to do, and it was a mistake. I'll apologize for that, and leave the Gabrielle thing out of it; he doesn't have to know anything about her, because I'm fairly positive I made all that up. There is no way Harry would hook up Gabrielle behind my back, and I was foolish to think so.
I open my mouth to say something about it, but as I do, the door opens, and a nurse walks in. She looks at us disapprovingly and tells us that we aren't allowed in the storage closet, so we are forced to leave without me saying anything at all. Normally, I'd be down for a good bout of procrastination, but right now, I feel like I really need to say something about my leaving just to get ahead of it. The last thing I need is to have it come bite me in the ass later.
•••
Y'all, I'm so sorry for taking so long to update. As I mentioned before, I literally didn't have any free time in the last two weeks to write. But sorority recruitment is over, and now I have way more time, so we'll be much better with the updates for now :) school does start tomorrow though, so cut me some slack if there's ever a delay... thanks for understanding!
-Kate❤️