Alexis
Shock runs itself through my bloodstream. It hits my veins, opens my eyes wide. I'm so ashamed, ridden with guilt and regret. Love is selfish and has totally fucked me over. The high I get when my lips move against Harry's plump, pink ones, the way my eyes want to fly open wide, truly taken by the feeling that overtakes my body with love is no comparison to the feeling that floods my mind and thoughts. I can fight the urge to let my eyes fly open when kissing Harry, but seeing my father, so honestly confused, now holding information that once only I held, leaves my eyes wide open. I'm not able to hide the shock - it's clear on my face.
Even with the elevator doors closed and the machine making its way up to higher floors, my escape from facing my father hasn't given me relief - it's only made me more worried. I'm now not able to run after my father and explain to him, get him to understand. Because that's the thing: he would understand. All my life he'd told me he was there for me and my problems, never there to judge, only to listen and hear me out. Mum was the opposite of Dad, telling me what to do with my trouble and that whatever my alternative was just seemed 'unlogical' - but she meant it in the kindest of ways; she's just a lateral thinker.
I know Harry's stepped closer, and that is only confirmed when a few seconds later his hands, pressed flat to the skin just above my breasts, slide across the area, slowly, calmly. His body presses against my back and the heat that his body radiates onto mine is almost unbearable because it only pushes me further to realise what my heart desires but what my brain resists. My heart resides in Harry and his resides in me. It's a scary, scary situation, the one we hold. I have souly given my heart to him, even if he isn't so sure, and he has given me his, yet we don't have the realtionship people in love have and it, in all bluntness, sucks shit.
"Alexis," Harry speaks. The eleavator indicates that we've reached the top floor, the doors opening to no one, then closing. I press the floor my father's on. I feel Harry's hot breath get nearer to my ear. His breathing is jagged and shakey. "Leave me," he whispers. And I'm in denial of the phrase that all I hear is "Love me," because that's all I want to do.
"I do love you." The words come out subconciously and I can't be bothered correcting myself. I know it's my heart talking - the dangerous, uncontrollable darkness that is my heart - but my mind is in too much of a daze to wrap my head around what I just said.
My hands come up from my sides, resting themselves on the tops of his. He laughs and I feel the vibration deep in his chest. It's so comforting - nothing like Will's laugh. I never noticed things like this about Will. He was jus this attractive guy, good hair, broad chest, tallee than me, nice guy; that's all that mattered. With Harry, the first thing I ever noticed in him was the brightness in his green eyes, the temperature of his hands as I passed my book over to him. It was different from the start with Harry, but I fucked up the beginning of what could have been a simple relationship. I was jealous of a book character, never letting Harry love me like I do now, against what's soon to be a vow. In sickness and in health; for better and for worse.
"I said leave me, Alexis." His words sound light-hearted, flase; I know they're not.
"I'm not with you; how can I leave you?" I say. My body turns in the confines of his hold. I need to see him, look at his face, green eyes that shine everytime I feel mine shining.
When I turn to see him, it feels like the biggest mistake - which it isn't, of course. His face is smiling, and I really have no clue why. His eyes seem bright, shining even though mine aren't. His lips have a lighter pink tinge to them from my lipstick. His face, even though dotted with the odd spot and blemish, seems smooth, soft enough to give me the urge to reach up and let my hand slide down the right side of his face, the side that has the glare of the fluoresent light pannell on the side of the elevator. His smile seems to deepen, and that makes me want to smile.
Our relationship, though destructive and selfish, seems to be what I want most in life, what consumes and pulls at my heart. And I don't know why I was so oblivious to this before, for I was only thinking of whatI'd agreed to before I realised the feelings I had witheld from Harry months ago. Now I've said something, said I love you, I'm going to fight. It's a stupid thing to realise at this moment, when my fiancee is at my childhoof home with my mother; when my dad has just seen me with another man, kissing him. It's stupidity at it's best, love at it's most common.
Harry whispers in my hair, so weakly, filled with the emotion I've known about for months and crave every hour of the day, "Don't leave me forever, though,' and I break. Not crying - mentally. It hits my heart, pulls at the tied strings, hints at where my heart wants to be. "Although," he speaks up again, "if you find yourself in Will's arms again, forever, don't keep my heart, my love. Leave me with something - closure, preferably." He laughs, only trying to be light-hearted in this situation.
And just as I go to reply, right on time irony finds its way to where we are, opening the elevator doors to the floor we needed. I don't know what to do. My heart wants me to stay with Harry; my mind wants me to be rational and run to my dad. So far, all rational decisions I've made have all led back to Harry, maybe just one more would be okay.
I stand tall, lean up to Harry's lips and kiss them so sweetly my mouth almost waters because it's just so good. His lips can barely register my kiss, only limp, but I don't care. He starts to kiss back, harder, but I pull away.
"I'm going to go to my dad; you should go see your friend," I say. His face doesn't drop. He knows it's the right thing to do and that I'll find my way back to him. "I'll see you again.'
He laughs lightly. His knees bend, bringing him face to face with me. His hands frame the side of my face. "God, I hope you do, because I know you feel it. I know you want what I want."
I bring my hands up on top of his and pull them from my face, holding them in mine for seconds before I let them go and make my way down the hall to the reception.
***
My dad is sitting in the break room on this tattered, red suade couch, green scrubs still on, tea in hand, eyes focussed on the television. He doesn't notice me at first, and I don't want him to. I want to look at him in harmony, no look or disgrace or dissapointment on his face. Then there's this rush of words, finding their way to the tip of my tongue, trying to fight their way out.
So I speak. "Dad," I say, and I'm not going to let him even acknoledge me because I need to let these words find their way to him. "I know what you saw: I don't know what you thought. I know what I did, and I sure as hell know what I felt. That was Harry. He wrote the book In The Night. Remember the way I went on and on about that book?" Dad nods, smiling to himself. "Well, about 10 months ago I went to his book signing and he asked me out. He started writing a novel about me and I panicked and ran because I didn't acknoledge his love. I know now that what I want is Harry" - my throat feels cry and my eyes are watering - "And I don't know what to do with our love."
Dad stands up from the couch and almost rushes to my side, hugging me. He's always been a silent part-taker in my life. He always let mum do the talking, but when he had something to say, it'd be insightful, well though out, brilliant. I know that's what's coming. He dosen't have mum to console with and this hug is his thinking time, letting him figure out the words he wants to provide me with.
The words that come out aren't expected, because he - even if they're silent - has opinions on everything. This isn't an opinion, though. "Sounds like Will in some shit." He laughs a deep laugh, and I laugh with him.
"I'm such a bad person," I whsiper into the prolonged hug.
"No," Dad says as he releases his arms around me. His head shakes. "No, you're not. You're just a little selfish. Everyone in love is. When your mum and I first started dating, we didn't leave each other's side. Truly sickening, right. You're in a... difficult situation, and by what I can tell, you know what you want, but that little sensible part of your brain that your mother's genetics has granted you with is telling you to marry Will because you made a promise you now regret. Go buy a hot dog and then tell Will to shove off."
"You never really liked Will, did you?" I ask. I'd always noticed it.
"Well, neither did you." He smirks. I glare at him. "He doesn't like eighties music!" He shrugs with a knowing smile. His excuse was stupid.
"Alright - fuck - I'm off." To break off my engagement.
"Play The Breakfast Club soundtrack on your way home."
(A/N: hiiiiii guys! i am so sorry this update was so late! it's a long one though... does that make up for it? don't forget to vote and comment! xxxx)