Inherent

Julia’s long, dark hair fans out in front of her face as she bends down to replace a book on a lower shelf, and I watch her in a kind of marvelling awe. Even when working some menial task, she still manages to be beautiful while she does it. She hasn’t noticed me yet; across the floor I lean against the book store’s sales counter in amusement.

I just endured a two hour meeting about a new (and troubled) business venture as a start to the day, so you could say I’m eager to see Julia. More than usual, anyway, because she herself acts as a release for me. Hell, right now is the first time throughout the entire day that I’ve cracked a smile, and she isn’t even aware of my presence.

When she stands straight and steps back to look at the shelf for a moment, I clear my throat to grab her attention. In reality I could probably stand here all day to simply be reassured that she’s in reach, but I need more than that today. Especially after Lou’s—I need to try and get a feel for what’s going on inside that head of hers.

She cranes her head to the side and the smile that erupts on her delicate, enchanting features is a sight to behold. I feel as if the wind has been knocked clear out of me, but on the surface I remain calm and confident. She seems to take reassurance in my collected exterior, the same as I do in her just being near. It’s the smile that gives light to her blue eyes and a pink tinge to her cheeks, and I return her unrestrained happiness with a cheeky grin. I didn’t expect her to be particularly impressed with seeing me today, after I ordered her into having a lunch date. This is a very welcomed surprise.

My own smile dims slightly when hers fades and her expression turns momentarily pensive. It returns as quick as it was to disappear, though it isn’t half as bright and her eyes have lost that spark I love to see. I know what’s happened—she’s thinking, and whatever she’s thinking about has made her sad. I have no idea what could be running through her mind, and I’m left to only speculate.

“You’re early,” she comments lightly after she approaches; I’m quick to take note of how she comes to stand a careful arm’s length in front of me. With a crooked grin, I close the distance between us and press a gentle, lingering kiss to her soft lips before I pull away with a hold around her waist.

“I just couldn’t wait to see you,” I reply, my smile widening at the sight of her wide eyes and how she doesn’t quite know what to do with her hands. I find her shyness endearing, a breath of fresh air from the women I usually date—most of which have been a handful of years older than me, much taller, and have much more experience that Julia possesses. But I’ve come to find that I love how when we embrace I can hold her so tightly and protectively, tucking her head underneath my chin. Age has never really been a focal point for me, and another part of me doesn’t mind her innocence, either, though I certainly don’t prey upon her for that.

She’s been hurt enough—I refuse to be the cause of more pain for her, and as long as I’m alive I won’t let anyone else hurt her, either.

That includes the boy whom I know is watching our every movement, too, the boy I saw talking to a customer when I entered the shop. Alex. He’s trouble, and I don’t think Julia knows exactly how much.

“But I’m late, actually.” I glance to the digital clock hung above the door.

“Oh.” The color in her cheeks is precious, and I find myself chuckling at her lapse in time. Her eyes flit to the side and past me, surely noticing her co-worker, and then she takes a cautious step backward. I allow her to, and my hand falls back to my side. “Just let me grab my bag.”

“Sure,” I say, but she’s already turned on her heel and scurrying behind the counter into the employees’ room. I watch her with a mixture of amusement and concern. While her behaviour is certainly cute, I wonder what’s made her so flustered today. And yesterday. Aside from Alex being near and the fact that Lou found out about our relationship the day before, I have this instinctual clue that there might be something more. Something wrong.

And there’s the question of why she practically ran away from me at Lou’s yesterday. She’s tried it before, sure, but yesterday was the first time I let her go and I regret it. Thinking back to it, however, I recall the sight of her back turned to me and scrambling to get into her car… it made me angry, and I knew I would have done more harm than good by going after her.

That part of her mind is still a mystery to me—the barrier that keeps her from truly letting go to be herself. The small glimpses I’ve been privileged to receive into her heart and soul so far make it clear, however. Though damaged, she is the most stunning creature I’ve come across ever.

Momentarily distracted from watching her mill around the room from behind the glass window, I hear a heavy set of footsteps somewhere on the floor and I automatically straighten. No longer do I appear playful and easy going; my eyes harden and I narrow them into slits while I think about the bloke still watching me. In an intimidating confidence I learned to perfect in my time with Des and Joe at the club, I turn around to finally catch sight of him.

The boy from last weekend. I hate that he was there with her, totally alone with her, and I hate that they will be again. Yes, it’s an understatement when I say that I don’t like this kid. He stands in the same place he was before, his arms crossed with a glare. There are two things I know for certain: he saw me kiss Julia, and Julia knows that he saw. It isn’t really about staking a claim over her, not really—but I do want him to be well aware of the threat I can be to him, if he so chooses to be a threat to Jules. And that she is under my protection.

Hell, I sound like my father.

Neither have I forgotten about the short incident at her house before I took her to the Uptown. Obviously, the shove to my shoulder from the dumb kid was meant to send a message. Alex doesn’t like me, and I sure as hell don’t like him either. Last weekend it took every last piece of my self-control and will power not to retaliate.

I’m glad I didn’t, however, because if I can help it I never want Julia to see that side of me. Ever.

My lips spread into a think line at the sight of Alex’s scruffy appearance. His wrinkled clothing and scraggly beard don’t do much for him, and everything about him screams ‘tweaker’. I can only wonder if Julia knows. For the world I can’t seem to figure out what she seems in him.

He looks familiar, somehow, like he might have been around when that sort of business was still my game. This of course makes me all the more suspicious.

We stare each other down across the shop, my glare ferocious. If there was even a chance at Julia being hurt by anyone—especially him—I wouldn’t hesitate to protect her. It wouldn’t even require a second thought. She has enough to deal with, I reason for my innate protectiveness, and I know her naivety and kindness would be easy for others to take advantage of. Especially this guy; I recall the way he made eyes at her.

“Are you going to buy something?” He calls, tight and high pitched, and I only smirk. I can see past his front that he is intimidating by me… and he should be.

“Sorry, mate. I’m just waiting for my girlfriend,” I reply, as cocky and sure of myself as ever, though this time my voice is quiet and conscious of Julia still in the next room.

I feel a somewhat twisted sense of triumph when his posture abruptly stiffens at what I say and then he looks away first, turning on his heel to stride further into the store… it makes us sound like a pack of wolves, but I don’t let up on my dominating stare even when I feel Julia’s calming presence next to me.

“I’m ready,” she says, voice light and free of tension, and I have to blink several times to shake myself from my incensed trance.

When I turn back to her, I try not to let on exactly how pissed off I am or that I just told her friend that she’s my girl. I suspect that would be a shock to her, positive or negative I can’t say for sure. So I take her hand and make sure my grip is neither too tight nor telling, and I strain one of my usual smirks.

“Come on then,” I reply, though it comes out gruffer than I mean for it to. This only makes me angrier; angrier at myself for not being able to control my temper around the one person where it counts. The one person who manages to make me happy.

I take in the brief hurt and surprise that overtakes her expression before I heave a long sigh and tug gently on her hand, making sure once again that I don’t hold her dainty, slight fingers too tight. All of this is done because I don’t want to be that person with Jules, the person that draws reactions and controls others through his temper.

More than anything I want her not to fear me, I want her to acknowledge our torrid mutual attraction, and I want her to be herself. To be happy, and that won’t happen if I let my annoyance with her friend overpower the rational part of my mind.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you,” I mumble lowly, not used to apologizing to anyone at all. It took me until we got outside and into some fresh air to muster up the words. If nothing else, I don’t enjoy acknowledging my shortcomings. “I didn’t mean to. I’ve just had a long day.”

I wish my excuse held more depth, but I also have a feeling Julia witnessed my silent confrontation with Alex.

“Me too,” she says, but it’s faint and lacking the excitement she held upon seeing me. To think that today I’m the one taking away from her happiness makes me feel even worse. “I hate Mondays. It’s fine, Harry.”

Automatically she starts off toward the parked cars where I left my own, but I tow her in the opposite direction with more of a genuine smile. “Since it’s so nice today I was thinking we could take a walk. Find some place to eat. Sound good?”

There isn’t a single cloud in sight, and the bright sun hangs right above our heads, warming me through my plaid shirt. Just since I entered the book shop I feel a noticeable increase in the temperature, but I’m too busy admiring the way Julia seems to glow under the sun’s light, how it contrasts against her pale skin and dark hair. The blue of her eyes seem brighter than ever. She is radiant.

“I love the early summer days like this,” I continue after she pauses a beat, looking both surprised and intrigued by my suggestion.

“Sure. I don’t know of many good places to eat around here for lunch, though.” I nod, accepting her response with an exuberant nod. Truth is I don’t either; I simply like the spontaneity of the idea and I also sometimes like to keep Julia on her toes. I want to give her new experiences.

“We’ll find something,” I reassure her, slowing down from her hurried pace to my relaxed one. She does indeed look a little out of her element in such a simple moment, and I can’t help but to find amusement in it. “I just want to spend some time with you.”

My sincerity nets me another one of her sparse, stunning smiles. She nods and slows down, nervously glancing up at me every now and then, and I pretend not to notice all while wearing my knowing smirk. In reality it’s all I think about… that, and how even though her hand is much smaller than my own it manages to fit perfectly in mine, and her subtle flowery scent invades my nostrils until she is all I am aware of.

Nothing else matters, not right now. Not business or work or Joe’s potential mess. For probably a block or more, I forget that this is a lunch date where you’re supposed to, I don’t know, eat… but my mind is so far away from our mundane goal.

While she might be a little confused by our wandering, Julia loosens up a little and her hand relaxes in mine. I take this as a good sign and hope that today we might just get to the bottom of things.

Or at least start to.

So I relax, too, and forget temporarily about yesterday at Lou’s until I just want to enjoy this moment, with Jules. I turn a corner and she follows, her blue gaze flitting up to my features once again when she believes me to be preoccupied and that I won’t notice.

I notice. Again. And it takes every ounce of self-control I’ve built this past month not to press her up against a wall right here and now, lock my arms around her waist, and kiss her senseless. That doesn’t mean I don’t consider it, however, and the next time I feel her eyes on me I turn my head to smirk down at her. Quick to turn the other way, I just barely catch a deep rouge creep onto her cheeks and I can’t help but to chuckle.

“See something of interest?” I tease, and she only shakes her head with a small embarrassed smile. I laugh again at her shy curiosity and pull her closer so our sides brush while we walk. I savour the slight touch, but it isn’t enough. It’s been much too long since I’ve last seen her, touched her the way I so desperately want to. Like at the Uptown. I want her on my lap, I want my fingers to dip into her shirt, and I want to leave a mark on her neck.

Even through my desire, though, I manage to maintain my self-control. If nothing else, I know she’s timid and shy to all things intimate—hell, I like that. I like that she isn’t all over me, and the last thing I want is to push something on Jules too heavy too soon.

Around hers my hand tightens as I think about all of this, and the smirk that curves my lips upwards turns a little devious. I begin to search our side of the street, but not for a cute café or some other place to grab lunch. My sexually-charged mind is somewhere else totally.

It isn’t long before I spot an alcove between two buildings up ahead—it’s such a tight space it can’t even be considered an alley. My best bet, I reckon.

“Oh, there’s that place up ahead where we—!” Her voice breaks off as soon as I give a sharp tug to her hand, pulling her into the recess so fast that she blinks several times when she realizes that I’ve got her pushed up against a cement wall, my body pressed to hers. I hold tight to her waist and her chest brushes against my upper torso with each breath we take. Just as I admittedly fantasized, only she releases a small startled gasp at my abrupt action. I only reply with a breathy laugh, my smirk never faltering, but I do take a moment to rein myself in and watch for her reaction… the last thing I want to do is scare her. She’s surprised, but not totally against this.

Good.

“What—Harry—” Before she can think too much on it and push me away, I interrupt her mid-sentence yet again, except this time with my mouth on hers in a gentle, controlled test. Much to my surprise and pleasure it doesn’t take her long to react, and she holds onto my shoulder with one hand while her other fists the front of my flannel shirt. For a second she pulls me closer; just the timid action alone stirs within me a deep desire and causes me to crush my mouth to hers with much more fervor.

One of my hands migrates on its own accord, closer to her backside, the premise enticing to squeeze her rear end. But my hand luckily stays in its place, safe on the very small of her back.

I find that I can’t help myself now. I’ve had too little contact for too long and I’ve missed her hesitant, addictive caresses. To anyone else passing us by, if they even thought to look in here at all through their busy lunchtime rush, they’d only manage to bear witness to my back. Quite literally, I tower over and shroud Jules in the cramped space. Yes, I was careful in choosing this place to finally let go my leashed need for her in hopes that she wouldn’t feel so exposed.

Withdrawal. That’s how to best describe what I have been going through, ever since that very first innocent kiss all those weeks ago. I take my hand from resting at the curve of her waist to cradle the back of her head and simultaneously press her mouth into mine with more force. Satisfied, I have her panting underneath me, and finally I rear back to release a husky rumble of laughter, breathless myself. I watch her flustered form and fluttering eyelashes, awestruck, and press feathery kisses to her mouth as I speak.

“I hope you know,” I tug gently on her plump lower lip, nearly shaking in an effort to hold myself back from attacking her mouth again. “That this is what you do to me. This is what happens when we go so long without seeing each other.”

Her responding shudder down the length of her spine does nothing to help, her fingers still tight and fisted around the hem of my shirt. I continue to watch through half-lidded eyes in fascination when she runs her teeth along the edge of her lip, right over the place I just nipped myself.

She feels it just as much as I do. I’m certain of that much now. I smirk in accomplishment, well aware and happy with the fact that Julia wants me just as badly as I want her. And that’s the one thing I won’t let her deny for much longer. I step back to allow her some breathing room, and it takes her a moment to realize the tight hold she has to my clothing before she hurriedly releases me. My sly smile grows. She still looks a little dazed, and I observe her flustered form in satisfaction.

“I think I saw a food truck down street,” I say casually, as if I didn’t just pin her against a building and crash my mouth to hers. While I do enjoy coaxing such heated reactions, I don’t want her to feel uncomfortable with the new positions I put her in. That’s the opposite of what I want whenever I do such things.

I love her fair porcelain skin and how blood so easily rises to its surface. In times like these it’s a dead giveaway to how truly affected by me she is, and it’s the one moment she can’t say otherwise. When she can only open and close her mouth, unable to form words, I reach forward and simultaneously cup her heated cheek while my other hand finds hers. I bring it up to press a kiss to her delicate palm.

“Relax, Jules,” I tell her, calm with all traces of desire missing from my tone—or at least, hidden under the surface. She inhales an instable gasp, closes her eyes for a moment to unconsciously leaning into my touch, and only when she opens them again I reluctantly drop my hand from her jaw.

Shaking her head, Julia chances a look around my shoulder to peer out the mouth of our little nook and then, if possible, her blush seems to deepen. She looks up to me in accusation. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“You enjoyed it,” I wave her off with another of my mischievous smiles and drop my left eye into a subtle wink, pleased that there is no real malice attached to her words or mock glare.

It takes her a good few minutes to recover from our brief moment of passion. She stops herself from stumbling when I tug her from the wall, though I keep a steadying hand to her waist as we straighten out our wrinkled clothing and venture out onto the sidewalk again. The first time she utters another full sentence is when we’re about to place our order for food. It’s a different little food truck, one that only serves macaroni and cheese and about a hundred variations of the simple dish.

Julia looks excited to try it, so it’s good enough for me.

“What would you like?” I ask her, totally content with the moment. I wouldn’t rather be anywhere else but here, with her. When her brow crinkles adorably as she looks at the chalkboard menu placed at the back of the truck, perplexed with all the choices, I have to fight another smile.

It is truly scary how happy her mere presence makes me. If any of my business associates saw me right in this moment, they wouldn’t even equate my easy going persona I’ve taken on with Julia to the ‘real’ Harry Styles.

“Um… I think I’ll have the classic cheddar,” she says, eyeing the lineup already. I stop her from moving forward with a gentle touch to her wrist.

“Playing it safe, are we?” I inquire teasingly. “You sure you don’t want the artichoke and spinach?”

And then she wrinkles her nose and I’m sure she can’t get any cuter. “Gross, Harry. Is that what you’re getting?”

“I was considering it,” I play along. “But I think I’ll go with the old-fashioned, regular mac and cheese. If that’s alright with you, of course.”

“Good choice. I think I’ll allow it.” Her light, quiet laugh is better than any music to my ears. For a moment my deep chuckle overpowers hers, amused by her feigned austerity, and then I realize we should probably get a move on if we want to get her back to work any time soon.

Once again, however, she surprises me after I attempt to move forward and into the lineup like she did just a few moments ago, reeling me back by the rolled sleeve of my shirt. “I’m paying this time,” she says, shaking her head with determination.

Bemused, I regard her for a moment with my usual lopsided grin. “Whatever gave you that impression?” I ask, playful, though I have no intentions of letting her pay for either of our meals today. It’s a surprise to me that she even thinks of this—all the past women I’ve been out with have been more than happy to allow me to provide for them.

She frowns at my teasing flippancy, but this isn’t something I’m willing to give up on. Still, I find the way she stubbornly sets her jaw and squares her shoulders attractive. Impossibly attractive.

“You paid last time,” she informs. “And it’s only fair that I pay for our lunch today.”

Of course, I’m not some overbearing archaic cave man. If she were anyone else and so inclined to spend her own money on her own meal, I wouldn’t have an issue. But this is Jules, my Jules. She’s a university student with a part time job and earns a little side cash with her graphic design. Me? I have money to spare, and I’m willing to bet that she doesn’t. “Sorry, sweetheart, but I’m paying.”

When I turn on my heel, set off to get our food already before Julia’s lunch break is over, I feel her small fingers wrap around my forearm again. I stop, but not because the non-existent force she uses won’t allow me to move.

“Harry,” she warns.

I cast her a quick glance over my shoulder, and I’m surprised to find that she’s starting to become upset. I turn to her again, confused, and I easily lift her fingers from around my arm so I can hold her hand. I draw her closer.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, low and quiet so she doesn’t feel embarrassed, tracing circles onto the side of her hand with my thumb.

“I’m a grown woman. I have the money to pay for myself. And you, too.” The emotion she’s conveying doubly confuses and concerns me, how she looks torn and sad and angry all at the same time. I make sure not to stray my firm gaze from hers in search for some sort of explanation for why she’s upset over something so small. Small to me, at least. With the way she looks up at me, determined through it all, she makes it seem as if the whole world rides on this one thing going her way.

That’s another thing I like about Jules. She’s quiet, shy, timid—but then there are times when she becomes feisty, even in the most subdued of ways like right now, and her intensity throws me for a loop. Over something as silly as this, I like to see that spark in her nonetheless. It gives me hope that with me she comes to life, even if it’s just out of annoyance.

What all this fuss is about I have no idea, but I get the sense it might be over more than just simply paying for a meal. I feel as if I have to prove a point to her—a point I don’t fully understand, but I feel as if I must.

She stiffens when I hunch my shoulders and lean down to talk close to her ear, receiving a healthy sniff of her sweet aroma while I do. This new reaction of hers—flinching at my touch and closeness—bothers me, but I don’t let it show. Something has changed within her in these past few minutes between kissing her in the little alcove to ordering our food. She went from happy and agreeable to stubborn and almost haunted in a split second.

“I don’t doubt that, Jules, but this is something I want to do, aright? Let me.” I move to ghost a light kiss over the corner of her mouth, lingering for a few aching seconds before I get a hold of myself. I pull back to look at her and she meets my eyes bravely, though eventually she breaks the connection and sighs.

“I just feel bad,” she admits, and her eyes cloud over with a look I’ve become familiar with. It’s a look of sadness. Resigned sadness. I wonder what’s going on in that mind of hers and recall the goal I set for us today: to sort out all of this.

Whatever yesterday was about, between the two of us. We need to talk. I can already sense that she might not be so responsive to my bright idea, however, and I might just have to settle for simple reassurance… only after a little pressing, of course.

I send her a softened smile, my usual arrogant cheek absent. I know not to push any further right now. “Don’t sweat it, baby. It’s just lunch.”

Even after I skillfully compel Julia into allowing me to pay for our food, she remains conflicted. I can easily tell this by the way she shies away from even my slightest touches, her broken smile, and her restless stance next to me. The only thing I want to do is close the distance she’s placed between us, to erase the line formed in her brow and ease her worries. Instead, I remain silent while I pay for our food and Julia waits behind me, though I ignore everything and am attuned to even her slightest movements.

She has something on her mind; I’m just waiting in the hopes that she’ll bring it up herself. We sit at a bench overlooking an elaborate fountain and the prime view of Chicago’s skyscrapers. We hardly take note of it, however, and eat our food in quiet; her with so much on her mind she only picks at the food she was previously eager to try. I see that she attempts to act as if nothing’s wrong, but there’s a leaden cloud hung in her eyes that I can’t ignore.

Long after our trays have been discarded and Julia sips at her can of soft drink in pensive thought, I know she has to get back to work but it feels wrong to leave her in this state. I want to touch her, and I even angle my body toward hers to do so, though ultimately I settle for leaning against her side for a brief moment of peace.

While she might have brought her smile back to life, her eyes still haven’t lost that dimmed shroud. I try to think of some reason behind her mood, to figure out what’s on her mind without having to corner her. No, I don’t want to leave her on a sour note so early in the week when we might not get a chance to see each other for a couple of days. Since she shot down my idea to visit her last night, I have to try and piece this confusion together.

“Something’s bothering you.” My statement is bland and lacks heat. It’s a fact, rolling off my tongue with distaste. Distaste for my blue eyed angel either being tortured by an external force or by her own mind. “Do you have any plans to tell me?”

If there is some unresolved issue between us (and I suspect she isn’t still upset over my payment of our food) I want it out in the open so I can fix it. My hand reaches out in search of hers; unable to help the instinctual urge to provide her with comfort.

Her eyes don’t stray from the water spouting from the huge fountain, but I see something within them flicker. I wait a few seconds, though I know she won’t spill. I try to take on a playful edge to ease her worries. “Or am I going to have to force it out of you?”

After a few long moments pass with Julia in a perplexed silence I try again. “Well, since you won’t talk, I suppose I’ll have to do your share for you.”

It’s amazing, the patience I always harness when I’m with her and she shuts down so fast. If she was anyone else, I would have become annoyed and probably either argued or stormed off altogether had she not conceded to my demand.

Shaking her head once in dismay, I ignore her soft sad exhale and continue. “I was thinking since we’ve been so busy lately, that maybe after you finish the website for Lou I could take a couple of days from work. I have unlimited vacation time and we could spend that it together.”

While I speak each sentence with deliberation, having already made up my mind, I toy with the tips of her fingers. The size difference between hers and mine is unfathomable, and I’m only reminded yet again how fragile Jules is beneath her hardened exterior. Our difference in size really is astonishing, especially since her body seems to shape and mesh perfectly together against mine.

So although she won’t tell me what’s wrong, I revel in just being here with her, with nothing inherently wrong. It’s taken so much for her to become even this comfortable with me. She shakes her head again, and I feel a little accomplished when I see a ghost of a smile tug at the corners of her mouth. I take it as a good sign. “Which reminds me. I have a surprise for you next Friday night. Clear your schedule, because trust me when I say you won’t want to miss this.”

As if suddenly shocked to consciousness like a sleeping kitten startled out of a deep sleep, her eyes return focus and she snaps her head to look up at me.

“Surprise?” She asks, but she doesn’t sound the least bit excited. I watch in fascination as several emotions flicker through her eyes, uninhibited and true to how she really feels, before they become guarded.

“Yes, surprise. It’s what you call a positive event where you receive something totally unexpected and awesome.” I interrupt myself to laugh heartily when she huffs and looks over to me indignantly.

“I know what a surprise is,” she defends, which only makes me laugh harder.

“And one usually expresses their appreciation for such surprises through a kiss,” I say, tapping the corner of my mouth in humorous expectance. “Right here.”

Like I expect, the only response I receive is my name muttered in warning and a roll of her eyes. I shake my head in mock disappointment and shift closer, leaning down with my side still pressed to hers.

“Like this.” My smirk widens a fraction when her eyes flicker to my mouth, too, and I take that as permission. I bow my head the rest of the way to press a quick, playful kiss to her mouth. A desire already sparked within me from the innocent graze, I frown when she doesn’t respond, though her eyelids have fluttered shut and she breathes shakily. So lower my mouth to hers again, but this time it’s slow, tender, and it conveys my affection for Jules in a kiss because she won’t seem to allow me to do it verbally.

We’re both oblivious to any passersby when she tilts her head to the side, finally accepting me, and I can’t help but to linger in the embrace. I only pull away to speak softly against her lips. “I wish you’d tell me what’s bothering you so I can help, sweetheart.”

This time when I release her, I graze a finger under her chin to hold steady, unwavering eye contact. Now there’s a faint spark of life within her eyes, her cheeks flushed while her teeth close on her bottom lip. Watching the enticing movement makes me want nothing more than to take her back into my arms and kiss the sadness in her eyes away, but in the long run I know very well that it likely won’t help anything. Especially since I’m so determined to get her to open up to me, anyway.

Today is one of those days where I have to push—at least a little. To test the waters and see if we’re any closer to her releasing whatever it is that’s been holding her back. I see it, every time we become close or take a new step. It’s as if she knowingly reminds herself that she can’t or shouldn’t, or she remembers her worries or perhaps her list and then she just closes in on herself. There’s something always holding her back.

“Is it me?” I phrase the question carefully, fishing, and she her eyebrows raise while she looks at me in confusion. “Did I do something to upset you?”

Of course, I’m thinking back to yesterday. At Lou’s. I was my usual cheeky self which I’ve grown to regret somewhat. I like to sort of stake my claim over the addictive lady sat squirming next to me, at least in humour, and even if it was simply in a teasing way around a friend. I wanted to make my affections for Jules known to someone.

Every day I get texts from women asking me out none-too-subtly. To party. To a late night romp in the sheets. If this had been, say, a month ago, I’d have readily accepted their promiscuous invitation. But the bold truth to the matter is that I haven’t been with anyone since the night at The Castle, when I invited Jules up into The Solar.

Though sober I was stupid at the time and for a few seconds that night while I looked down at her from upstairs and saw her in that sleek little black dress… I had planned to seduce her. If she didn’t get the phone call and left so suddenly, I probably would have tried even further. I’m glad now, that I didn’t get the chance. Because I would have scared Julia straight from her wits and ruined any chances with her.

“No! No, Harry. None of this is your fault,” she bursts fitfully, and I begin to feel an ache within my chest because I see now how truly upset she is. An ache for all the terrible things she’s had to endure, and ache for all the times she’s broken down and no one’s been there to comfort her. I refuse to let her be by herself any longer, to face everything alone.

“Then tell me, Jules. Tell me so I can make it better.” People are busy rushing around us, caught up still in their lunchtime rush, but all I see is Julia. I speak with confidence and conviction, sure that whatever she is upset about isn’t as bad as she’s made it out in her mind to be. I’ve seen it countless time in all our interactions—it’s like we hit a wall, and I have to fight to get past it.

As she stands up I watch her with an intensity I’ve only ever felt with her, her movements rushed. I notice that, too. Whenever she’s confronted of feels trapped, she has to move. But I won’t let her run away from her problems with me—if that’s what they are. She has to face whatever she fears or whatever demon she may be battling, and I’m determined to be there for her when she does.

Finally, I sigh and stand with her. It’s past one o’clock but Julia doesn’t seem too interested in rushing back to work. I can sense that she’s thrown those impenetrable barriers up, however, and that I might not get any further with her today.

That doesn’t mean I’m any closer to giving up on the issue.

“You can’t. You can’t make it better,” she rejects the idea out of instinct; obvious from the panicked lilt to her soft-spoken tone. She wants to flee.

“But how do you know that?” I question softly, and before she can turn away I catch her by the hand with no force. I don’t need to use any when she’s in this state. My touch seems to at least bring her a little closer to calm and while astonished, I’m thankful. She finds calm in me just as I find happiness in her.

She’s wrong. I feel certain even if I can’t fix whatever is weighing on her mind, I can at the very least help her with it through whispered reassurances and gentle touches.

There’s a battle warring within Julia, I see that much through the telling depths of her sad blue eyes. A battle between her mind and her heart. With that same sinking feeling in my chest, she shakes her head again and looks away. I sigh, relenting for now, and that’s when I see her.

A ghost from my past. To the right, over Julia’s shoulder on the other side of the massive fountain. She looks familiar yet totally foreign. The shock of her appearance after so many years and in a totally different place causes me to lose my intense focus on Julia. Her once sandy blonde hair is dyed several shades lighter to a platinum tone, and she’s dressed herself in attire typical to her throughout the years—a red leather jacket, tight ripped jeans, and a pair of motorcycle boots. I haven’t seen her in two years, not since I left Nevada.

Lucy. Fuck, it’s Lucy. She can’t be here in Chicago for any good reason, and I instinctively tense while I reach for Julia’s arm to pull her closer to me. Lucy makes eye contact with me, as steely and hollow as ever with an unreadable expression, and I hold it for a second too long. Julia notices my abrupt change in mood, from caring and concerned to tense and protective in a split second. I look back to Julia quickly, but she already sees. She notices because she’s smart. Even though she closes in on herself, she sees everything. I don’t stop her from turning to look in Lucy’s direction, and I watch as the two women lock eyes for a split second before Lucy turns and walks away.

Slowly, Julia swivels back to look at my tensed form in confusion.

“Who is that?” She asks, wary. And she should be. Damn it—this is something I didn’t expect. I have to call Des and see what the hell he’s up to with bringing Lucy, of all the members in the club, up here. And If Joe is the one who sent her.

“No one important,” I say easily and withhold a grimace as best I can. I try to focus on what we were just discussing, to be the man Julia has come to know. The man who holds her and dances with her and treats her like a princess. I’m that man with her, and I can’t allow her to see the man I am with the club.

I have to keep Lucy far away from her.

For a good long moment her expression hardens, as if she wants to argue because I’m sure she saw my strong reaction, but then she sighs and rubs at her dry eyes as if to make sure she hasn’t cried before she looks back to me, tired.

“I need to get back to work,” she says eventually, and the way she says it with a mixture of dread and resignation is worrying. I briefly wonder if she’s having trouble at the book store, but my mind is preoccupied with the girl in the red leather jacket.

“Alright,” I give in, easing my grip on her arm and instead I opt to wrap my arm around her waist in a hold just as secure. Wherever there are members of the club, there’s danger, and I want her as far away from it as possible. I want her safe, and I don’t want her to be in harm’s way anymore than she already has been. “Let’s get you back, then.”

And while I try to keep my perfected mask in check as we walk away from the fountain and back onto the sidewalk, I can’t help but to send a brief look over my shoulder.

Lucy is nowhere in sight, but I know she’s here somewhere. Watching us.

Notes

No comments on the last chapter... did I do something wrong? :( You guys don't like Harry's POV? Haha, I'm sorry, it's just a little disheartening I suppose. Thanks for reading nonetheless :)

I would have updated sooner but my area has been hit with several huge snowstorms and a blizzard that knocked out the power, so only tonight do I have the chance. Sorry about the wait, everyone, but I suppose a week isn't too bad right?

Okay, anyway... things I should address. Julia's actions throughout this chapter will of course be explained in the next. Harry calling her his girlfriend won't be a secret forever! And I can't tell you much about our new mystery girl, Lucy, because I don't want to spoil it for you.

Come now, tell me what you think. Love it? Hate it? Thoughts on Harry now that you have more insight into his chracter? I want to know!