"Time goes by so slowly
And time can do so much"
Song: Unchained Melody - Righteous Brothers
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It's been two weeks since the night Finn planted the idea in my head that Harry might have feelings for me, and I've been trying to ignore it ever since.
It's not something I would know how to deal with, aside from the fact I find it so hard a believe.
I'm me, I'm nothing special and in no way good enough for someone like him, not to mention I'm almost ten years older than him.
I see the gorgeous young girls that fawn over him at the bar, all doe eyed and borderline hyperventilating - I'm nothing like them, I have no idea what he would see in me beyond a friend.
I'm quirky and barely have a filter for my mouth, I don't know how to be sexy or elegant just sarcastic and unladylike.
I've never been insecure about who I am or those things about myself, I've never really compared myself to other women, I've been fine with who I am - but when it comes to Harry all I can do is point out why I fall so short for him.
Well, Dylan is the only other person that can make me feel insecure but in a very different way, she makes me feel like I'm not good enough because that's how she treats me, she's even said it before - the insecurity I feel with Harry is that he thinks I'm more wonderful than I actually am.
The idea that he cares about me in that way has had me losing sleep, and I've done everything I can to push it to the back of my mind and dismiss it, I'm terrified of it being true, terrified it would hurt our friendship.
I could never give him what he deserves, my sexuality is a glaring reminder of that. It's also the other thing that's been keeping me up at night, that's had me confused and sick on the stomach - part of me wondering if I feel that way about him too.
It just can't be true, that's not who I am, I could never feel that way towards a man. I fought so hard for who I am, there's no possibility that could change.
But the small fleeting spark of giddiness at the thought of him having feelings for me was quickly washed away by dread over what that means.
I can't lose him, I can't picture my life without him in it, and something like this could cause that - so I'm doing what I do best, ignoring it.
If I don't think about it, it doesn't exist.
I could never live with myself if I hurt him, he means far to much to me, so I'm just keeping things exactly how they are - even through the lectures of Finn telling me I'm an ignorant moron.
Finn can't be right, he just can't be.
Today I'm coping with it the best way I know how in my day off where I don't have work to distract me - I'm eating my feelings.
Dylan's gone back to L.A. until after New Years, only becoming irritated with me when I got upset I wouldn't even see her for Christmas and reminding me how important this job is to her and I should be supporting her not guilting her.
The smallest part of me, for the first time secretly wished she wasn't going to come back. In eight years I've never entertained the idea of not being with her, regardless of everything she's done, but this time around I'm just finding less and less reasons for why I stay with her or what I even love about her.
God I am going to eat my body weight in sugar over this.
Nothing makes sense any more.
I decided to make scones this afternoon, in no way ashamed that I plan on eating the entire baking pan of them with copious amounts of jam and cream once they're done.
I plan on being in a food coma, too high on calories to be able to think about this shit any more.
I hum along to the music I'm listening to in the kitchen, folding the ingredients together in a bowl as Harry watches me from the couch, only looking away to write in that beat up note book of his.
He knows that I've been upset, though I doubt he knows what about, he's been giving me worried looks all day, like he wants to ask what's wrong but knows I won't talk about it.
I sigh heavily as I spread flour onto the counter, and tip the dough mixture on to it so I can start kneading it.
I barely notice him get up from the couch as I cover the dough with more flour and start to knead and fold it lazily, feeling to distracted in my own head to really pay attention.
The music in the kitchen stops suddenly and I lift my head to look over my shoulder to see Harry with my phone, scrolling through it before he selects something and places it back on the counter and looks at me with a warm smile.
I look at him confused when a new song starts playing.
"Oh, my love, my darling, I've hungered for your touch..."
What is he up to?
He walks over to me, until he's standing behind me and threads his arms around my waist, resting his chin on my shoulder as he places his hands over mine on the dough and starts to knead it slowly with me.
I watch as his large hands press and sink into the mixture, always making sure to caress it touch mine as they do, and his nose nudges against my cheek as he starts to hum along to the music.
I notice he even took his rings off, I barely ever see him do that.
There's an indescribable feeling that washes through me as we continue, like a familiar nostalgia and affection that has my heart swelling, at the exact same time that my stomach knots every time our hands touch.
It seems so intimate, and almost sensual and all we're doing is kneading some bloody dough.
Part of me is yelling to stop it, but the majority of me is too taken aback by how nice it feels to have him pressed so close to me that I just don't say anything.
We just stay like that, listening to the music and folding how hands over and around each others as Harry continues to hum soothingly.
What is he doing?
"Always wanted to do this" he murmurs, as he keeps his chin resting on my shoulder, his cheek so close it's almost pressed against mine.
"Do what?" I ask confused, has he never made scones before?
He nudges his cheek against mine as he smiles "Have my own Patrick Swayze and Demi Moore moment"
Then it hits me, he's reenacting that scene in the movie Ghost where they're moulding the fucking clay to this song.
I burst out a laugh turning my face and pulling back slightly to look at him, feeling my stomach twist even more at the fact our noses are practically touching and he's making no effort to look away "You're such a fucking dork"
Harry grins at me, his eyes searching my face "Yeah, I am. But I'm your dork so it's okay"
There's something about this moment that's so ridiculous and beautiful at the same time, and even though it seems goofy and silly, we both know how special these things are to us.
"Keep pulling sappy crap like this and I might have to trade you in" I quip back, turning my face back to look at the bench when I noticed his eyes were lingering on my mouth.
I probably just have flour on my face.
He squeezes his arms against me, pressing a quick peck to my cheek and laughs when I pull my face away whining in exaggerated disgust, that's something else he's started doing, and I think it's just to annoy me, it's like he keeps thinking of new ways to become more and more touchy or affectionate to push my buttons.
"Not gonna happen love, hate to break it to you but you're stuck with me"
I scoff sarcastically, trying to hide my smile "God what am I gonna do, now I'll never get rid of you"
Harry nudges his nose against my cheek playfully, laughing under his breath "Couldn't get rid of me even if you tried"
I grin to myself, unable to hide how happy that notion makes me.
"Do you feel a bit better? Did I manage to cheer you up a bit?" he asks, focusing his attention on our hands and I can feel his hair tickling my skin and shiver slightly at it.
"Is that what all this was about?" I question, realising that this was his way to try and lift my mood from the slump it's been in all day.
He nods, straightening up against my back and craning his neck over to watch the side of my face "I know you won't talk to me about it, doesn't mean I can't try and help anyway"
My heart could explode with the adoration I feel for this boy, his ability to always make me happy and his constant ways he manages to always lift my mood no matter what is going on.
This is exactly why I can't ever entertain the idea of having feelings for each other, I can't ruin this.
"You did make me feel better, you always do" I admit gently, feeling my chest sink at the thoughts that forced their way back into my mind again.
Harry squeezes his arms against me again, before pulling his hands away and pressing a kiss to the top of my hair "It's all I ever wanna do for you - think that's ready by that way, don't want to over work it, it'll make the scones too tough" he says referring to the dough.
I nod in agreement, staying quiet as he pulls away from me and goes to wash his hands in the sink, and I start to roll the dough flat out on the counter, grabbing the cookie cutter to separate it all and place it onto the baking tray.
Harry leans back against the sink facing me with his arms folded over his chest watching me intently, like me placing bits of dough on a baking tray is the most fascinating thing he's ever seen.
I can't wait until these are ready so I can eat until I don't have to think any more.
"I've never seen you bake before" he observes thoughtfully, watching as I put the tray in the oven.
I walk to stand next to him at the sink to wash my own hands, and shrug my shoulders "I don't do it often, it's something I use to do with my mum all the time. Usually it just makes me sad"
Harry's face softens as he tries to read my emotions on my face, but as usual I'm good at hiding them "Did it make you sad today?"
I glance up at him briefly, before shaking my head and going to dry my hands on a towel "No, not today"
"Why?" he watches as I pull myself up to sit on the counter opposite to where he's standing, shrugging my shoulders again.
"Because you were here"
I would normally never be so open with anyone about my feelings, even though I keep ninety percent of them still tucked away, the small moments of honesty I share with Harry is far more vulnerable then I've let myself be with anyone else.
And it is the truth, the things that would normally make me sad, things that would remind me of terrible times in my life or remind me of how much I miss my mother never seem to hurt as much around him, he's like a warm chamomile tea when you have a sore throat, his entire presence is soothing for me.
I can't explain it, but I never want it to go away.
I'm far too attached to it, it's the only comfort I've felt in years and I'm terrified of it leaving.
I keep my eyes focused on my lap as I swing my legs against the bench, not really knowing what else to say.
I jump, coughing when something hits me in the face and I wipe my eyes to look at my hands to see them covered in flour.
I snap my face to Harry with my jaw slack, to see him now standing near the flour with it all over his hands and a shit eating grin that's trying to keep his laughter in.
I laugh in disbelief shaking my head, and start to slide myself off of the counter "You better run pretty boy"
Harry leaps around me cackling the minute I launch forward at him, running to the other side of the kitchen, and I immediately grab two hand fulls of flour and turn to face him glaring slyly under my brows "You are so fucked when I get my hands on you"
Harry lifts and drops his brows, motioning his fingers at me with a daring cheeky smirk "Come and get me sweetheart"
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