Inherent

For some reason, I feel nervous as hell at the premise of seeing Lou again for our next meeting. Today—right now. I’m stood outside my client’s door on a bright Sunday afternoon, my chest tight and arms stalled at my sides. It’s unclear to me, why I suddenly wonder if Lou hates me or if all my designs suck and she won’t like them. Before I left the house today, I checked my hair and minimal make up at least three times until I finally deemed my appearance half presentable and forced myself out the door.

These past few days, thoughts of Harry and all of the designs I put together mingled and clashed in a muddled heap. It’s been that way ever since our date last weekend, expect now that we haven’t seen much of each other I’ve been trying to think with a level head, allowing for doubts to seep in and discolour the wonderful night we shared together.

All the guilt he managed to ease and make me forget that morning resurfaced as soon as I came back to my empty house. I’d been reminded with a quick shock that, while Harry does indeed free my mind and heart of all my worries, the causes for those worries are still here and are very valid.

To top it all off I’ve had trouble sleeping all week, and I know I can’t with a clear conscience blame it on Harry… but I’m likewise aware that no sleep I’ve gotten since then has equalled in its peace.

That scares the hell out of me, too.

Lou lives not too far away from me, but a little farther east and closer to the city than Grandma’s little bungalow. The front lawn in manicured and the double garage attached to the two storey house is open, showing off a huge black SUV and what I would guess is Lou’s hybrid.

Within the house, I hear a little girl’s voice release a high pitched laugh and then the simultaneous thumping of small feet. It snaps me out of my trance and I realize I’ve been standing out here dumbly for the past thirty seconds, staring at my phone with vacant eyes.

Yes, I got the right address—that’s what I checked just to make sure.

With a steadying deep breath, I muster the courage and ring the doorbell. The patter of quick footsteps gets louder. The door swings open before I can get another chance to collect myself, and I’m not too surprised when I have to look down to find a little girl peering up at me, a grin stretched across her adorable features. Her round, doe-like blue eyes are wide in what appears to be mischievous fascination. With those eyes, blonde hair—up in pig tails, and her beaming smile, she is the spitting image of Lou.

Lou’s daughter. She told me about her in a couple of the emails we constantly exchange, and her daughter, Lux, is the reason I’ve come over to Lou’s house on a Sunday instead of meeting her somewhere else. With everything else going on with the salon and raising her daughter at the same time, she told me, things can be stressful. So when she asked whether or not I’d be free today, I didn’t hesitate.

“Who are you?” She questions inquisitively, though she opens the door wider to allow me in. I stay put where I am on the front porch. Little Lux looks to be no more than five or six years old and I don’t want to just invite myself inside. Instead, I peer around the entrance in an effort to spot her mother.

“Hi,” I greet Lux cheerfully. I’ve never been too good in particular when it comes to socializing with kids, but I try to keep my tone as happy and chipper as the little girl’s. “I’m here to see your mom. You must be Lux.”

“Lux!” From farther within the house Lou shouts for her daughter. When I see Lou emerge around the corner, hair in a bun and looking a little frazzled, I can’t help but to smile.

“Remember, sweetheart?” It’s astonishing how upbeat Lou always managed to come across as, even when she’s obviously stressed. She ruffles Lux’s hair, and the little girl narrows her eyes up at her mother. She guides Lux out of the doorway and gestures for me to come inside. “You’re not supposed to open the door by yourself.”

“Sorry, momma,” Lux says through a grin, and it’s obvious even to me that she isn’t apologetic in the slightest.

Still with my shy streak, I follow behind Lou and wait in the kitchen as instructed while she places Lux in front of the television in the living room. I sit, rigid, on one of the bar stools at the island, my feet dangling far off the ground even more than they would have given my short height. Through the sliding glass door that leads out to a patio, placed adjacent to the island, I see a man in the back yard constructing what looks to be an elaborate children’s swing set. From such distance I can’t tell much about him, but I assume he’s Lou’s husband.

When Lou excuses herself to the bathroom momentarily I listen to the faint sounds of Sponge-Bob echo out from the adjoining room, and I feel as awkward as ever.

Usually I might feel just a touch of anxiety at meeting with a client for obvious reasons. For showing them designs that are still in progress, their report of my services rendered, or just the fact that my mouth sometimes tends to trip over my own tongue. But today the feeling seems to be amplified, and for right now I can’t figure out why.

My phone’s ringtone harshly cuts through the kitchen’s silence, causing me to flinch before I retrieve the object from my bag with shaky fingers. For a split second my heart rate spikes, but over the years I’ve become very good at calming myself down after small frights.

It also helps that I started taking my medication again, so now I don’t have to worry as much if my heart does take up an erratic rhythm… it just sort of happened, last weekend. After I got home and I sit on the couch is a wonderful kind of daze while I thought back to the previous night, the recollection of my missed medicine struck me along with another healthy dose of reality.

I still don’t know why I decided to start taking the pills again, but I know and hate myself for the possibility of it being because of Harry.

Harry’s name flashes across the lit up screen along with several of those kissy-faced emoticons he seems to like so much. I freeze, and I don’t quite comprehend why yet, but I find the thought of a phone call from Harry, the boy who kissed me senseless and danced with me on a run-down stage to Frank Sinatra doesn’t have the same soothing effect on me as his actual presence does. Maybe it’s because he’s not physically here for me to take comfort in, or perhaps I’ve grown to fear phone calls, but I swear my heart stammers to a crashing halt for a solid second.

I can’t ignore him—I’ve overcome that fleeting urge over the past week since our first date but on an occasion like this I still have to beat the anxious need to submission. Over the last week we have shared more than a couple of conversations over the phone, usually late at night when we’re both exhausted after the long days and Harry’s deep, melodic voice all but lulls me to sleep, so this one shouldn’t feel any different.

No, I don’t want to ignore him, but I sure wish I could ignore my feelings for him. Then it might make things a little easier when I tell him the truth and he ends up leaving. Only that much I’m sure of.

“Hello?” I hold my phone to my ear in a grasp as weak as my timid greeting.

“Julia.” Harry’s deep voice is dead panned, and for a moment I conclude that I must have upset him somehow. My mind jumps to frantic conclusions and guesses that one way or another he found out about all I’ve been keeping from him on his own, even though I know it isn’t possible.

“Harry?” I question in reply, hesitant and not half as confident as I wish I sounded. But I’ve never been a poised liar, even when it’s as simple as withholding the truth.

Damn. Will his effect on me and the rush of delightful feelings just the sound of his voice prompts ever lessen?

“You almost didn’t answer then, did you?”

I automatically flush, caught, and wonder how the hell he knows me so well. After a quick look over my shoulder to make sure Lou isn’t in sight, I try to reign in my embarrassment. It wouldn’t be very professional to see me on the phone during our meeting; no matter how casual it is or even if Harry’s a good friend of Lou’s. Also, there may be the advantage of a real excuse not to talk to Harry.

To be honest, however, I can’t tell you how long I might have sat there in a panicked daze just staring at Harry’s name on my phone.

“No—well, I’m in a meeting with a client,” I quickly try to cover my hesitance and deflect the focus from me. “With Lou, actually.”

“Yeah?” I don’t know why but the playfulness to Harry’s tone dissipates rapidly. By the way he speaks, it sounds as if he turned suspicious. “She told me she was taking the day off.”

Oh. Crap. I begin to think that maybe I shouldn’t have divulged in the details of today’s meeting with him. Another stroke of unprofessional business etiquette.

“I’m just at her house for a quick progress report,” I say, once again trying to clean up the mess I’ve made. Did I somehow get Lou in a spot of trouble with Harry? “I have some designs mocked up, and I wanted to see what she thinks.”

From the bathroom off from the foyer, I hear the faint sound of water running. I tense, knowing Lou will probably return soon. “Look, Harry, I have to go alright? I’ll talk to you after—”

“Don’t hang up on me,” he talks over me, effective in cutting me off and reducing the little confidence I managed to build. It’s a barked order; business-like, deep and booming. I stay silent, shocked that he borderline snapped at me when I didn’t really have any plans of hanging up on him anyhow, and wait for whatever he’s got to say. Another heavy sigh trickles through the line, and it only causes my frown to deepen. I have no idea what has Harry in such a mood today, but it’s a little shocking to be on the receiving end of his anger—however slight. “I’m on my way over.”

“What?” I ask, but he doesn’t really have to repeat himself. I heard what he said; I just can’t believe my ears.

“I’m on my way over to Lou’s. You’re there now, right?” He says slowly, allowing the words to sink in. He waits for me to stumble over my affirmative answer before speaking again, with that same controlled tone that I’ve just now recognized conceals anger. “Alright?”

“Uh—okay,” I agree dumbly, my mind working on overdrive yet I grasp nothing at all. If he wasn’t so short with me I wouldn’t think anything over his spontaneous visit, but now my paranoia is growing. I just don’t know what exactly I have to be paranoid over when it comes to Harry’s mood swings.

Over the line I can hear what sounds like his car starting, and I know he would have come over even if I told him not to. “See you soon, sweetheart.”

He hangs up without me giving much of an intelligible reply, and when Lou emerges from the bathroom to take in the sight of me with my jaw slackened, mouth agape in shock while I stare down at my phone, she raises a concerned eyebrow.

“Something wrong?” She asks, still cheerful. I wish I had the same optimism for life as Lou does, and I wish things like this just rolled off my back. Instead I’m stuck here, sitting in my client’s kitchen shocked and reeling from Harry’s semi-bizarre behavior.

“Um, Harry. That was Harry. I told him I was meeting with you,” I say sheepishly, unable to look her straight in the eye. “And now he’s on his way here. He wants to see the designs too, I guess.”

Confusing. Confusing as ever. I don’t have answers to what feels like two crucial questions—why the heck I even answered in the first place and an explanation for why Harry turned strange and suspicious when he heard I’m with Lou—and through it all I try to maintain my business composure. It wouldn’t be very professional for me to wig out in front of my client. Already it’s bad enough I have an uninvited guest on his way here.

To my relief, Lou doesn’t look the least bit disconcerted. She grins, eyes sparkling, and claps her hands together in delight. I wish again that I could put my paranoia and worries to rest and enjoy Harry’s sudden visit, but no. I do worry; I worry about Harry, his insistence, and the fear of him finding out about my heart. Maybe now is the time I should start to try and distance myself from him. Before this gets any bigger or I dig deeper.

It doesn’t help that I stand in his good friend’s kitchen or that she casts me a knowing, excited smile. “Great,” Lou waves off the change in plans. “I’ve had a hard time getting him involved in the project. This is good. Let’s wait for him in the living room, yeah?”

“Sure.” I smile hesitantly and slide down from the high stool, meekly following behind Lou again to the living room. My shoulders lock up as soon as I sit on the sofa, and I become so tense I swear I feel the beginnings of a headache come on. Only now when the surprise of Harry’s phone call has begun to wear off do I start to think—or worry—about Lou’s mischievous smirk upon hearing that I was in contact with Harry. We both watch Lux, who still has her eyes glued to the television, and I try hard to relax.

I feel so out of place here in practically a stranger’s house waiting for my—what even is Harry to me? A client. A business contact… that much I’m sure of. But then he turned the tables, I went half insane and showed him all the reasons he shouldn’t like me, and he kissed me. Several mind blowing times.

“So—I didn’t know you two were close,” Lou begins casually, her phone held loosely in one hand while I clutch onto my bag. The blood drains from my face and when I remain silent she casts me a sidelong glance. “You and Harry, hey?”

Yes, she knows just as well as I do that I shouldn’t have Harry’s number or even be in contact with him like I am. The terms we agreed to when we started working together were that I’d run everything by Lou, and then we both would show Harry the completed designs eventually for his approval.

Until he took a more vested interest in the project. I’m not even sure Lou knows that he has.

“I, uh,” I stutter right as I feel the blood rush back up my neck in what I’m sure is a flaming blush. Lou giggles good-naturedly at my hapless expression, which thankfully allows for my heart to slow its furious pounding. I still draw a blank, however, and Lou senses my inability to string together a sentence.

“I knew it,” she proclaims with a victorious grin, eyes alight. In its bun, her hair bounces as she nods in confidence. “I knew I saw something between you two at the café.”

The only consolation in Lou’s excellent observation skills is that she doesn’t seem to be angered by my relationship with her friend. She doesn’t look as if she has no idea why Harry would ever take an interest in someone like me, the weird bookstore girl. She looks happy about it. In fact, her smile is so wide I’m sure she’s bursting at the seams. Only my shyness is holding her back from what I’m sure would be her much more expressive reaction.

“Really?” I can’t help myself. Back at the café… I try to think back to the day, to Harry’s smoldering looks and his amusing, stupid jokes, and how he made me blush just from looking at me. I realize that Lou had to have noticed, and she isn’t even aware of the one-sided game of footsie Harry played with me under the table. Heck, she wasn’t even around when he asked me out on a date.

“Um, yes, Julia. I’m sure even the barista saw the way you two made eyes at each other,” she replies cheekily, increasing my embarrassment but her apparent acceptance does a little good in helping me relax. I take in a deep, relieved lungful of air. “I think you two would make an adorable couple. Is it heading in that direction? I’d like to see Harry settle down with one girl.”

I sputter, shocked from my wits yet again, and try as best I can to come to terms with the fact that Lou is as forward as her friend and business partner.

“I don’t… we haven’t, um, talked about that yet.” Calm down, calm down, calm down. Lou is only playing around; that much is obvious from the impish smile and glimmer dancing within her eyes. I can’t even let myself think of that, of Harry and I. Us. As a couple. I have no idea what to call or label what Harry and I have. It’s too soon, and I know it can never progress that far. Harry will get bored with me or my conscience with get the best of me or… or he’ll find out somehow. Something will break, of that much I’m sure.

Before I can articulate any more of an intelligent response, however, we hear the light swing of the front door and the subsequent click it makes when it shuts. I immediately zip my lips, flustered all over again because I know that it’s Harry and now I have this on my mind.

Us. Couple. Boyfriend. The words slice through the ice-covered shell of my heart like a serrated edge.

Harry appears in the threshold, decked out in another of his impeccable business suits. Black slacks and jacket with a white shirt, it clings to his shoulders and fits him in all the right places. Then there’s the black tie that he’s loosened around his neck and the two buttons of his shirt that he’s undone, and I find the sight of him mouth-watering. His beauty is a devastation.

As soon as he’s in sight, Lux tears her eyes away from the television and bounds over to him in an enthusiastic flurry.

“Harry!” She squeals in excitement. I watch in surprise and fascination as Harry stoops down to hug the little girl, who giggles in delight. “I’ve missed you,” she tells him adorably, and Harry breaks out into soft smile.

“I’ve missed you too, pet.” His deep dimples pop when he pulls away to stand, ruffling her blonde hair. I’m thankful for the interruption; the cute exchange succeeded in lessening the tension I’m sure only I feel. Lou pats my hand and sneaks me a knowing smile before she stands up to greet Harry, too. I remain immobile on the sofa and watch Harry pull her into another brief hug, and Lou still has that smirk that makes me a little queasy.

When they part, Harry finally looks over to me. The sight of me must be a surprise to him with my mouth parted in shock, cheeks almost certainly tinged pink, and staring at his form with a dazed wide-eyed gawp. The only reason my appearance might come as a surprise to him is because he isn’t the one to have coaxed such a reaction from me.

“I thought you were too busy to come over today, hm?” Lou teases, successful in gaining back his attention, though she glances back to me to explain. “He was supposed to come over today to help Tom construct Lux’s play set. Said he was too busy… until he got wind of you coming over.”

My reaction is instantaneous, and even while he’s been put on the spot Harry chuckles at my shy reaction—yes, I’m sure everything from my nervous giggle to my shaking hands is just hilarious. I’m so stuck on Lou’s playful chiding that my ring and I can hardly hear their friendly banter. I knew he sounded fishy over the phone, even while he tried to keep controlled. What was it about me visiting Lou that made him spring to come over—to what? To supervise? It’s not like it wasn’t expected that Lou and I would meet by ourselves, so I don’t understand or fully believe that to be the reason behind Harry’s abrupt change of plans.

So I’m left clueless.

“And why wasn’t I invited to this little party?” He fires back, to which Lou only laughs and shakes her head.

“Well, big shot, you haven’t seemed very interested in this little project of ours so I figured I’d be doing you a favour. And we’re just looking a few things over today, right Julia?” Lou says, and she sits down on a recliner next to the sofa.

“Right,” I answer and wonder for a second why she’s vacated her precious seat next to me, but I don’t need to ponder on it any further because Harry approaches in a few long strides to sit down to my right. The position isn’t an unfamiliar one where he sits so close our shoulders and legs brush, but there is certainly an added level of discomfort while we’re in another’s presence. With him he brings his usual addictive aroma, though today I notice a faint smell of cigarettes on him. I haven’t seen him smoke before, but it mixes deliciously with his masculine cologne and natural scent. I unwittingly hold my breath.

“Come on then,” he says, gazing at me with an unreadable expression. “Show me the best you’ve got.”

He and Lou seem unbothered by conducting the meeting with Lux in the same room, who’s retreated to playing with a dollhouse and its furniture scattered across a large rug in the center of the room. It’s not that I mind, either, but right now I simply pick up on every small detail in worry.

As I reach for my bag in an almost jerky movement, though, I receive a clean view of pair of booted feet and then see the man from the back yard—Tom—scoop Lux up into his arms before he escorts her out of the room without a word. Seconds later, we hear the two talking animatedly with each other about the progress of her play set construction before the sliding door can be heard sliding open and then shut. With my laptop held tightly in one hand, I use my other to quickly brush my hair from my face when I sit back up again, only to jump after I feel Harry’s hand come to rest on my knee.

I try to make myself look busy and totally unaffected by his forward gesture, even though his touch is sizzling hot on my leg and all I can focus on. He cocks his head to the side with that sly grin of his, and Lou observes the one-sided exchange through a smile and a quirked eyebrow. Maybe she can sense how embarrassed I am, but she nonetheless doesn’t make any further comments on the status of Harry’s relationship with me or what the hell it even is. Instead she leans forward on the recliner eagerly to see the designs, and for that I think I will be forever grateful.

Eventually, I quit my fumbling for words and my shaky hands manage to prop my laptop onto the coffee table so they both can get a clear view of its screen… and for some reason, my nervousness morphs into anxiety—anxiety at the thought of showing off my work. To Harry in particular. He sits totally relaxed next to me, no longer stiff or looking suspicious or odd like he sounded over the phone, and like himself. I know I shouldn’t worry over his reaction to something like this after all that’s happened between the two of us, but I can’t help it. It’s in my nature to stress.

All of the sudden I’m frantically concerned over what he’ll think of my designs and how likely it is that he’ll hate them. I think of all of this with my same straight face, my business face I’ve been trying to perfect. I suppose it’s similar to a poker face… but I bet Harry can see straight through it, just like everything else.

I want to be sure my money isn’t going to waste, I recall him saying. What if it is? What if he fires me? Contract be damned, Harry could do it if he so wished. At this point our agreement or money… none of it matters.

In the next instant—while I type in my account’s password and focus on the click the keys make underneath my deceptively steady fingers—I understand the root of my concern. Because doing this, graphic design, is one of my only passions. I don’t want Harry to think I’m bad at it… or that I’m wasting his money. As stupid and immature as it may sound, his opinion has begun to mean a lot to me.

And that revelation alone is enough to send me running clear from the house.

No, I’m not trying to compare Harry’s success to my own. They are incomparable, but the thought still lingers within the innermost confines of my mind of how much further he is in his career than I am. That he knows exactly what he wants, and I don’t have a freaking clue.

Instead of giving into my flight instinct, I take controlled deep breaths and try hard to find comfort in Harry’s touch as he most likely intended. Even though his behaviour is totally inappropriate considering this is a business meeting.

A lump lodged firmly at the base of my throat, I ramble on about the changes I’ve made to the design since I last talked to Lou over e-mail and I’m sure it’s the most either of them have heard me talk at once. It seems like I lost all the filters with which I constricted my thoughts, but I suppose it might be better than remaining completely silent and comatose.

“And this is what I ended up with. I still have to sharpen up the shears.” Pun so not intended. Damn. I smile despite myself while I bring up the design in the photo editing program. “But other than that, I think I have what you specified.”

It’s simple and edgy, much like Lou suggested through our copious amounts of e-mails and back and forth comparisons through each design I showed her. This one is my most recent and best attempt, and I don’t believe I’ve ever put so much effort into a project like I have for Lou and Harry. I took every little thing Lou talked about, right from our first meeting at the café, and threw it all together into one fashionable logo, and I was meticulous in the details.

What I have so far is an orange backdrop and black, defined letters depicting the salon’s name in simplified, chic script. The ‘g’ has a set of scissors worked into the typeface, the blades in a diagonal across ‘orange’ and ending below the ‘O’. It’s eye catching but simple, not with obnoxious, overdone cursive font like I’ve seen a lot of salons use for the logos in my research. I’m proud as hell of it, but now I’m too busy doubting my abilities because Harrys is just so Harry and now the design seems all wrong.

Lou releases a long breath of air and focuses hard on the counter screen, on the design, and I zero in on her reaction. I tense, expecting the worse, and Harry squeezes my knee in what I suppose to be reassurance. Oh, no. Is he taking pity of me for my crappy design? Maybe he’s thinking something along the lines of how I can’t get this one thing right when everything else in my life seems to be wrong, because that’s exactly what plagues my mind.

“Wow,” Lou breathes, eyes glazed. While I keep that strained, businesslike half smile, I remain rigid. Go on, tell me how you don’t think our partnership isn’t going to work out after all. I don’t think I can take it, but I’m ready to hear those words. “Wow. This is amazing!”

She bursts, shooting up to get a closer look at my computer. I slump my shoulders in relief and try to relax back into the sofa. My heart slows its fanatic nervous beat and I hope that I’m in the clear. Lou’s reaction gives me some confidence, but I remember quite clearly that Harry gets ultimate approval.

While Lou is preoccupied with the design and the laptop, Harry leans unbearably close to me, bending to lend a throaty whisper into my ear. “You did good, baby.”

What feels like several seconds pass and I sit there simply with my mouth parted while I stare straight ahead and sure that I resemble a befuddled fish. But my shock renders me speechless while a pleasant, warm feeling plumes throughout my abdomen at Harry’s praise. At my knee, Harry’s burning hot hand shifts ever so subtly up my thigh. I recoil further back into my cushiony seat, wishing it would swallow me whole, and Harry chuckles at my obvious, innocent embarrassment. Like always, he takes joy in throwing open the figurative door to my comfort zone and thrusting me clear out of it.

His hand feels like it’s capable of searing holes through my jeans. I reach forward in haste to push his hand back down to a more respectable, less scorching place, but as soon as I touch him he captures my hand in his and holds it exactly where he wants it, midway up my thigh.

Okay. I’m out of the building of my comfort zone by now, and it certainly doesn’t help that I still have Lou’s prodding questions on my mind. Where is this going? I don’t want to ask. Especially not when I haven’t been totally truthful with him about something so important in my life. What we have shouldn’t go any further… but damn, I realize, I want it to.

At the sound of Harry’s boyish laugh, Lou slowly pulls her gaze away from the screen to stare over at us, and she quirks a questioning eyebrow.

“I like it,” Harry says about the logo, and to hopefully deflect attention from my flustered form. His hand remains tight in its hold on my own. “I think it goes in hand with all of your interior design plans. Lou.”

Probably for my sake than anything else, Lou chooses to ignore my surely flaming face and Harry’s smug smirk, but her eyes do flicker to our joined hands on my lap. Damn you, Harry. Damn you and your confusing phone calls and sudden drop ins and frisky hands.

“This is exactly what I wanted, Julia. I’m so excited!” Lou looks as if she can hardly keep herself in a sitting position. Despite my confusing situation with Harry, I take just a second to breathe a sigh of relief and let my mind calm its steady tirade of what-ifs.

“Thank you. I love working with you—I also have the business cards done and ready for you to look at. You, Mr. Styles,” I elbow Harry lightly in the ribs when he leans so close into my side that I can feel his warm, minty breath on my neck. What the hell happened to the straightforward businessman on stage at the presentation weeks ago? Because this is a totally different person. So much for proper business etiquette. “Just have to approve them.”

Then I remember the wink he sent my way that day, and how flustered just the small act made me, and suddenly I feel myself begin to heat. Heat in my abdomen, when I think of how absolutely attracted to him I am.

Oh, god. I’m in way too far. Lou might be bursting at the seams with excitement, but I’m about to fall apart from anxiety and worry.

“Let’s have at it,” Harry says with his infamous smirk, and finally he frees my hand when I have to lean forward and bring up the image of the business card on my computer. I breathe a little easier, but now I’m only left to wonder what and where else he’ll touch and claim as his when I sit back down.

For a while I’m able to busy myself with the laptop and showing Lou the designs that I find Harry’s presence a little less consuming. I could never ignore him—he’s proved that to me time and time again. No, I’m all too aware of his side pressed into my back and how our legs still manage to occasionally brush in the most tantalizing ways.

Lou likes the eloquent design, so I chance a quick look back to Harry for him to see for himself. This whole time, I have to admit, he hasn’t been much interested in the project. Just like Lou said. But I can’t let myself believe that Harry rushed over here just to see me. There’s more to it than that, and the possibilities worry me.

Harry leans over me to reach for the laptop to get a better look, his hand balancing discreetly on my thigh while his upper arm grazes against my chest. I stop breathing altogether. I don’t even worry about whether or not he might dislike my work, since he doesn’t seem to care much either way, and especially not with how he’s been so sly as to position himself beside me.

I’m going to kill him later, if this doesn’t implode my heart first.

He hums, a low sound stemming from deep in the base of his throat, and the heat in my abdomen only grows. Damn, why the hell does his magnetic charm, handsome boyish looks, and mischievous attitude all have to come together in one enticing package at a time like this?

With his lips pulled back into his signature, lop-sided sneaking smile Harry slowly pulls back. The corners of his eyes crinkle when I visibly freeze and my eyes even glaze over, feeling him as every feasible part of our bodies touch for just an aching discreet moment.

I don’t know what he’s playing at, but I love and hate it at the same time. Likewise, I don’t know why I’m suddenly nervous with Harry in front of Lou. Public displays of affection aren’t really my thing, though, and while tame Harry’s advances must be obvious to the blonde-haired beauty sitting next to us; to me they are overwhelming.

“Spiffy,” he comments finally with a slight nod. I turn my head enough to see that he isn’t even looking at the computer screen, and all of the sudden I feel as well as see his gaze burning into me. Hot and smoldering, it’s all burning passion but I try my hardest to look unaffected. “It’s a go for me. Definite yes.”

“Me too. I can’t wait to have them printed. These look great, Julia,” Lou tells me sincerely.

It serves as a decent confidence boost, and I square my shoulders while I purposefully ignore Harry. “Awesome,” I say, my voice wavering at first, though gradually it gains into my usual soft tone. “I just have to get together with my partner for some things on the website build and by then I’ll have some previews for you to—”

“Partner?” Harry interrupts without shame, raising his eyebrows while he leans forward to look at me in surprise. “I thought it was just you.”

“Yes,” I agree slowly, thrown off by his sudden questioning. I blink and turn to him for a brief second… it’s all I can stand while being so close to him. “You’ve met him—Alex. Sometimes we work together on more customized websites.”

“Alex…” he trails off, eyes narrowing. Lou watches our exchange with a neutral expression, but I know she picked up on the ‘you’ve met’. Just another clue as to how often Harry and I have been seeing each other. However, I can’t really focus on that because Harry doesn’t look at all pleased, and I begin to feel a niggling panic worm its way into my gut. His eyes have darkened and lost their playful glint, replaced with a terrifying shroud of concealed anger.

“The bloke at your place the other night?” Harry recalls, and his voice takes on an abrupt sharp edge. Now I know for a fact that the idiotic shove Alex gave to Harry’s shoulder didn’t go as unnoticed as I hoped. The brewing anger I witnessed in Harry’s eyes after Alex left had been very real.

“Um. Yes.” Even more embarrassment floods my system when I recall their brief, silent confrontation. Alex’s hostility and Harry’s resounding irritation. If there was one part of the night I could take back and change, that would be it—and only it. I don’t miss the way his jaw locks and how a flash of something thunderous appears again in the green of Harry’s irises, his plump lips set in a straight line. Tremors of unnerving anxiety spear me when the undeniable temper of his stays there and brews at the surface, while he sits so unbearable close.

I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry, and clasp my hands together in my lap in an effort not to wring them. “That’s what he came over for actually, because he didn’t know I was going out.”

“With me,” he finishes, and it’s as if he’s only now recalling that part of the night. The most wonderful part of the night. From the way he spoke it, with an air of finality, it’s as if Harry finds some odd, smug reassurance in it. This sparks so many questions it overwhelms my already exhausted mind… what could Harry and Alex possibly have against each other? Surely Harry can’t possibly believe there is or ever has been anything between Alex and me.

The thought alone is laughable. One, because it’s me. I haven’t been with anyone ever, and Harry knows this for a fact. And secondly… if only Harry knew the resentment, probably wrongful, that I harbour for Alex. I never saw Alex in a romantic sense even before Caleb, and I especially don’t now.

It hits me again how much Harry doesn’t know about me because I’ve opted out of speaking the truth, and now I only feel worse.

“Yes,” I agree in an almost robotic fashion. With you.

“A date?” Lou cuts in to quip, wearing another cheeky grin. “Tom did say you’ve been missing lately from The Castle. Thought it was quite odd of you.”

So he really does party all the time. He wasn’t lying to me, Friday night, when he told me of what he’d have been doing if he wasn’t with me. I try to remind myself of that, that he’s wild and young and a rich businessman on top of that, and this whole situation is a recipe for one huge serving of disaster.

Next to me, Harry doesn’t tense or otherwise stress, so I suppose he’s okay with Lou confirming his usual… social activities. While I can’t bear to look at him I know he’s observing me, judging my reaction to this and everything, and I wonder if he knows exactly how much I’m going out of my mind right this second.

“Right.” It’s my turn to interrupt the conversation. I fidget from sheer nerves and resist the urge to snatch my laptop up and toss it into my bag to get out of here quicker. I can’t handle this, being here at Lou’s house while everything gets thrown in my face. While Harry becomes offensive for seemingly no reason about one of my friends, brings up our date, and then gets all forward and handsy at the very same time I freak out over what the hell we even are and what we have between us. It’s all too much, all on top of me at once. I feel as if I’m being suffocated underneath the weight of my own thoughts and fears.

“I wish I had more to show you, Lou, but I’m just waiting on my partner. I’ll set something up with him as soon as I can.”

Ah, there’s my opening to leave. My smile is straining and my heart, though steady, beats loud in my ears. I find a little more reassurance in my medication, as it’s had to have taken effect by today and even if I did lose control over my careful instilled calm that I wouldn’t end up killing myself.

For some reason still unknown to me, Harry stiffens once again at the mentioning of Alex. It’s almost like he makes himself bigger, his chest expanding and his shoulders tensing, and he reminds me of a feral animal stalking its prey, ready to strike. I need to get out of here before I have a full on meltdown, so I take a deep breath and focus past him on Lou, who’s thankfully still oblivious to Harry’s mood. “It will be completed on time, though.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” she brushes me off. “We have plenty of time.”

Forcing my smile still, I remind myself that this isn’t about Harry or me or our confused relationship. Or whatever it is. This is about Lou and her salon and her designs, and it can’t be anything more. At least not in her presence. This is her appointment, and I won’t let Harry’s forwardness or my neuroticism ruin it for her.

I really do appreciate her patience, too. It’s just hard to me to express that appreciation with Harry all over me and bewildering me.

“Is there anything else you want to discuss? Or change?” It’s a wonder I can even get that much out, especially now since I think Harry’s taken note of my wide eyes and nervous, bouncing knee. He looks at me in a concerned suspicion, and the look transports me to Saturday morning when he held me and talked me down from all of my fears and worried thoughts.

The small hint of tenderness softens the hard depth to his gaze, and all of this is so very confusing.

So I concentrate on Lou.

“Ah, no. I think this is good—definitely. Keep doing what you’re doing,” Lou chirps with confidence, and I take this as the go-ahead to start packing up my stuff. I close my laptop and stow it back in my bag calmly while I ignore my constant instinctual urge to flee, but my hands still shake.

“Would you like a cup of tea before you go?” Lou asks a minute later, when I’ve stood and am ready to finally leave. Harry stands with me, his large hand hot at the bottom of my back. I can’t tell if he’s ushering me out of the house or if he’s got his hands on me because he doesn’t want me to leave.

Either one is a terrifying possibility.

“Um…” I make a show of checking the time on my phone before I shake my head in apology. Maybe if I wasn’t so absolutely overwhelmed I would have stayed with Lou and enjoyed a cup of tea with her. “I’m sorry, I have to get going. Next time?”

“Sure, sure. Don’t worry about it,” Lou agrees.

“Jules, I want to speak with you before you go,” Harry says while he nods to the front door, indicating that he’d like to do so outside and in private. Crap.

Saying goodbye and hugging Lou is a blur because I’m so caught up in Harry’s ominous words and what he could possibly want to talk about. Did he notice my nervousness and how I clammed up; what if he says something about Alex? What if he tells me he’s done—with this, with me and my nonsense.

I wouldn’t blame him.

Once outside, I can feel Harry trailing behind me after he calls goodbye to Lux and her parents before he shuts the front door. I hope that maybe I can get to my car before he can stop me and avoid all this.

“Slow down,” he calls out, and finally I sigh and turn back around. I only made it halfway down Lou’s brick pathway. So much for a quick escape.

“What was that about?” I ask, holding onto the strap of my bag like I always do when I’m stressed.

Harry approaches slowly and squints to look at me through the bright sunlight. He looks confused, but I have the nagging suspicion he knows exactly what I’m talking about. “What?”

“That… never mind.” I catch myself before I can get in too deep. I don’t want to take my frustrations out on him, even if he may be the cause of some, and instead opt to rub my temple. Already I can feel a headache coming on and the day is only half over.

“Tell me,” he demands, quite sudden in his change of attitude. When he reaches forward to take my hand, I take a hasty step backwards. He looks at me, confused as ever, and I feel ten times worse.

You’re making a big deal out of nothing. Perhaps Harry has mood swings just as I do, perhaps Lou was too quick to jump the gun and things between Harry and me aren’t nearly as serious. Maybe Harry just harbours simple male jealousy when it comes to Alex.

But I don’t know any of that for sure.

“Jules,” he says softly as he draws closer, but already I can feel the sting of unshed tears at the corners of my eyes. I shake my head and turn away, mind spinning.

“I’ll—I’m sorry, Harry. I have to go,” I manage to say, but I can’t even wait around to hear his reply before I all but jog to my car. Harry calls out to me, following behind me until he stands at the edge of the sidewalk and watches me clamour into my car.

I can’t be here. I can’t be with him, especially not right now when I’m sad and guilty and confused, and after I pull my car away from the curb I look in my rear-view mirror to see Harry watching me leave, arms crossed over his chest as he stands tall, looking wholly unimpressed.

Notes

Here's another long chapter for you. I don't know why these always end up being so lengthy... I hope you guys don't mind haha.

I got three awesome comments on the last chapter and I can't thank you enough. Seriously, it's like infinite motivation to write and therefore post more chapters! :)