Inherent

Right away I sense that Harry is serious, and I remember all the times I’ve placed my trust in him before now. After everything that’s been promised tonight, I feel a little confident in my new belief that none of this is a joke to Harry after all. I nod, still a little hesitant to admit it aloud, and Harry fights a smile as he continues to peer down at me through the darkness. There isn’t a single outside light turned on, just the dim kitchen light shining out through the window and door.

“That’s good. I want you to trust me, Jules,” he explains, quietly, like we’re sharing a secret. He glances past me for a moment. “Close your eyes.”

I stare up at him in confusion, clueless as to where he’s going with this while I wonder if I even heard him right. “What?”

“Just close your eyes,” he repeats, still serious and without a hint of humor.

Soon, I catch on that he’s up to something, and though I have no idea what precisely I find myself doing as he says, closing my eyes through a pensive frown while I try to understand. “This is about trust, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Jules, it is,” Harry agrees, lightening his tone and emitting a chuckle upon sight of my unimpressed reaction.

While he may be full of them, I certainly am not a fan of surprises, and not just because of my loopy heart. I like to be able to see what’s coming in clear view, and I obviously can’t do that with my eyes closed. Likewise, I haven’t forgotten about Friday and his other surprise he still has planned. I did indeed keep my schedule clear for him just like he asked… but I feel queasy just thinking about whatever he might have up his sleeve.

A hand brushes against my cheek and I jump, only to calm when I recognize Harry’s gentle touch as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “It’s alright, sweetheart,” he says quietly. I fight the urge to open my eyes, to ask what he’s up to, and instead take comfort in his always calming words.

“I learned a long time ago that there’s a difference between saying you trust someone and actually trusting them. I think this is a good step for us, in proving you can trust me and keeping the promise I made to you earlier,” Harry says all of this like he’s trying to sell something to me, the business man in him showing through. I abruptly grin at this new situation he put us in, as nervous as I feel, and I allow him to pull me blindly forward.

A nervous flutter encompasses my stomach when I hear ‘us’ come from his mouth. Us, as in, Harry and I together. As in I’m not alone anymore, not just Julia against the world, and likewise for Harry. Not two days ago I would probably have keeled over in a panic attack had anyone brought about the topic of what Harry and I are, but now… now, it feels so perfect it simply cannot be wrong, or any kind of mistake like I’ve been constantly telling myself.

Through whatever this test of his might be, I understand what Harry wants to accomplish. Trusting him would be a step further in the direction of my believing that he’ll stay, to putting the faith I need to truly feel to be able to tell about my heart. So I go along with it, even though on the inside I’m still nervous at the thought of someone leading me around on a deck in the dark, until he easily guides me through a slow turn and stops me with a gentle touch at my forearm from walking any further.

“There, perfect. Stay exactly like that until I say.”

Feeling vulnerable enough in this moment of uncertainty, of trusting Harry not to do anything that would hurt me while I go along with whatever he says, I won’t allow myself to overanalyze like I usually might. I begin to panic when his touch disappears and I can no longer feel his presence pressed close and protectively to my side. Blindly, I reached out for him.

“Harry,” I call worriedly. As soon as I begin to search for him however, I feel his warm hands envelop mine, solid and secure.

“Everything’s fine,” he soothes. I focus on the sound of his quiet, deep voice and how I can still feel him close, even if he might be an arm’s length away, and while not enough I manage to calm. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Keep your eyes closed.”

What’s scariest of all is that I actually believe him. There isn’t a single doubt in my mind, out here in the dark on my back deck while Harry is onto his usual strange antics. I realize I wouldn’t rather be anywhere else, with anyone other than him. Before tonight the realization would have stung, but already I’m beginning to place trust in him.

Time and time again Harry has shown me that he would never bring me harm, and that he already doesn’t like the harsh realities I’ve had to endure before he came around. Through all of my nonsense, he wants me to be myself, even if that’s a sad broken mess, and he wants to me trust him.

I plan to.

After one last soft squeeze to my palms for reassurance, Harry relinquishes me and I listen to his bare feet thump against the wooden stairs of the deck. Suddenly I get an idea of what he might be planning, and I uneasily shift one foot backward, only to feel nothing at all where there should be solid wood of the floorboards. I gasp, teetering forward so as not to fall back from my small test.

“Don’t move!” Harry scolds, but all I can think about now is how he must have me positioned with the back of my feet at the very edge of the deck’s top step. If I lose balance and fall, it will hurt. A lot.

“What are you doing?!” I demand.

“Don’t open your eyes,” he ignores my frantic question. I nervously reach up to feel my pendant instead of my surely racing heart, trying to relax, while my other arm is held out a little from my body to keep balance. It’s unneeded, but it makes me feel a little safer. I manage a timid, wavering reply in confirmation. “They’re closed.”

“I’m right here. I got you,” he says in confidence, and I divert my focus from the uncertainty of this new situation to the direction the sound of his voice comes from, behind and slightly below me.

“This is crazy. You’re crazy,” I mumble, and while I know exactly what he wants I don’t even think about it. This is, quite literally, putting my life in Harry’s hands.

“So I’ve been told,” he replies cheekily.

Yes—by me. Still, his response incites a quiet, strained giggle from my constricted throat, and that alone is a feat in itself. I try hard not to freak out any further and to listen to what Harry said. He has me. He’s right there; I decide, finally, to go along with him a little longer, to see where this test of trust really takes us.

Us.

“Well, I thought you might have forgotten,” I shoot back, eyes still closed for some reason I don’t yet understand. It’s nice, to tell the man who has just made us official that he’s lost his mind. It takes the edge off, even if the slight playful banter is a little strained.

“Alright. Let’s lose the attitude, sweetheart, and test your trust in me. Fall back.”

“No way.”

“Julia,” he warns, though there is no force to his words. He probably anticipated my reluctance, like how he senses everything else. For a moment I take comfort in that, and I even consider putting all of my faith in Harry and flinging myself off the stairs and into his hopefully waiting arms. He couldn’t just be a normal person and do this on flat ground, could he? Of course not.

It would help a lot if he didn’t insist I keep my eyes closed, but I understand the point. He wants me to trust—it’s just so hard.

I only sway back a little before I gasp and my heart lurches. Sufficiently rattled, I right myself again and I can’t help but to take a fitful peek over my shoulder.

Harry is there waiting, just like he promised, with his arms stretched out while he stands to the side. His eyes narrow playfully as soon as I look back.

“Eyes closed,” he stresses, still with that same dimpled smile I take so much comfort in seeing. He’s trying to be light about this, but I feel the significance to this very moment and how much it truly does mean to Harry. I turn back around, close my eyes, and take a deep breath.

While this might go against every single precautionary safeguard I have instilled in my mind, heart and soul over the years, I want so badly to trust Harry. He’s strong, not just in the physical sense, and I know he will catch me before I fall. I want to let go of all my fears and worries and sadness to just be myself… like Harry asked.

To be Julia, minus all the grief. I know there’s a real person there, past all of that, and Harry is determined to unearth her.

“Do you promise to catch me?” I shiver a little from the cold night air, the temperature having fallen a little more, and I no long speak through a playful giggle. I’m aware of what this means in the big picture. A handful of other occasions before now I put my trust in Harry, this is the first time where I realize the impact of our actions in the very moment they happen.

“I promise,” Harry vows for the second time tonight. The way he says it, totally absent of doubt and with confidence I find endearing, is enough. Enough, because he’s already proven I can trust him.

“You won’t let me fall?” Even though I trust him and I know he’s very, very physically able, it doesn’t change the fact that I’m super paranoid and I worry he won’t be able to support my weight from the drop. In reality, though, it’s only about three feet of distance, which really isn’t that much when I think about it.

Trust, trust is what this is about. Now I have a point to prove to Harry, now I want to prove to him that I am capable of placing trust in him.

“Of course not. Come on, I got you.”

Nothing more needs to be said—I have his reassurance, and how he has my trust. A single second passes while I focus on remaining calm, not upsetting my heart, and then I let my body fall backward and off of the deck effortlessly. An enormous flutter erupts in my belly from the feeling of the free fall. The sensation of falling from any height has always terrified me, and as soon as I teeter backward I desperately call out for Harry in a somewhat girlish squeal. Harry doesn’t go back on his word, thankfully, because in the next second his arms encase me, strong and protective, and I hear his ever-appealing breathy chuckle close to my ear.

Only when I feel his shoulders shake beneath my hands do I realize my death grip on his shoulder, and finally I have to nerve to open my eyes. I kept them squeezed shut almost painfully through the short fall. As soon as I catch sight of him I no longer feel my frightened heart thump in my ears. The fright that caused me to bite my lip melts away, and in its place comes a trickle of amusement at my own expense along with a small, rueful smile.

Yes, I’m a huge wimp. I’m lucky I didn’t release an ear-splitting shriek at my pitiful attempt of bravery.

“You caught me,” I murmur, as if it was totally unexpected. Harry’s boyish laugh dies a little, and I stare up at him in wonder when he once again sobers, becoming serious.

“You can count on me,” he says softly; like everything else tonight his simple promise implies so much more meaning. He leans down to plant a tender, slow kiss to my mouth, and then he grins into the kiss. I find myself lost in a light hearted giggle, too, our lips barely skimming while we savour this moment.

“That’s my girl,” he says approvingly after we part, helping me stand, and he keeps a steadying hand on my back long after I right myself. It’s probably a good idea, due to my shaking limbs from the small fright I received and also Harry’s pure charm.

That’s my girl… my stomach dances itself into a bunch of wonderful knots. I’m his girl. It’s such a simple, casual and even playful phrase, but I take a minute to think about that and how far we’ve come to get us here, to this level. We’ve made promises we probably shouldn’t have yet we both know, somehow, that we’ll keep them.

We head inside, with Harry opening the door for me while I all but dance my way through it. Things have definitely changed between us, shifted—now that Harry at least knows a little and I have his promise to think about and consider, things are… easier. At least now not as many doubts cloud my thoughts and dampen my mood.

I find that it really is easier to be myself; I can smile now without worrying any longer if I’m letting things go too far or that I’m selfish, I can let go… enjoy this, enjoy Harry. I no longer think about how our time might be limited or that I’ll only end up hurting him. I have a sense of freedom, and that’s something I haven’t felt in a long, long time.

Absentmindedly, I finger the pendant’s delicate chain while Harry stops at the kitchen table to pull out a chair, only to release a startled squeak when he hauls me down with him to sit on his lap in one fluid motion. He smirks at my slight surprise, reaching for the confectionary box still sat next to the flowers.

“How do you like them?” He asks, opening the box while he cranes his head to see. I smile, thinking about how I’m here sitting on his lap and everything is as fine as they can possibly be without me spilling altogether. I think about the past few days and all our ups and downs. I’m glad Harry came over unannounced like he did, because I know I wouldn’t have willingly incited our confrontation yet so much good has come from it.

“I haven’t tried any yet.” I reply, quiet and somewhat distracted because I’m too busy taking Harry in; the same sort of way I notice him looking at me from time to time. In complete wonder, astonishment, and appreciation. Before I couldn’t quite decipher all the intense emotions swirling in his dark eyes, but now that I feel it myself I can easily tell.

I recognize, too, that I’m thinking in befores and afters again. But these are so, so much better. These are nice to think about, nice to take reassurance in. For once I have something to hold on to, someone to hold on to, and I can tell already that this ‘after’ is much better than all the others I have ever experienced. No, I can’t quite believe a man like Harry truly exists. He gives me hope.

“Why not? Not up to your confectionary standards?” He pretends to take offense, holding my gaze for a moment while he looks at me in dismay before focussing back on unwrapping one of the cake pops. I laugh, and for the first time in a long time it is totally unrestrained, free. I feel lighter already.

“No, no. It’s not that. It’s just—when I said I want to try them, I meant… I meant that I wanted to try them with you.”

Where such honesty comes from I have no clue, but it seems like tonight’s trend for me. Perhaps it is purely from the fact that I’ve been living a lie for so long that it’s nice to finally be able to tell some truths. Regardless, I watch as Harry’s expression slackens and his lips part in his surprise, and his eyes leave the pastries to find mine. I will my body not to flush under his scrutiny, and after a moment he breaks out into a crooked grin.

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“That’s not true,” I defend myself, though with a happiness that equals Harry’s while I wrack my mind for an example.

Instantly I recall all the things I said to him that night at the Uptown, how I admired him and that he had ‘presence’. After spending much more—perhaps undeserving on my part—time with Harry, I can without doubt attest to that and more. Every day with him is a surprise, and definitely not the bad kind.

Harry ignores my futile attempt, me being too shy still to rehash that night even though it was wonderful, and his shoulders continue to shake with his quiet chuckle. An arm around my waist, Harry’s fingers dance up and down my side almost absentmindedly, as if he doesn’t realize he’s even doing it. Ultimately he catches on when I squirm a little under his electrifying touch.

“Is that the closest we’ll get to you expressing your feelings for me? Through baked goods?” With his teasing he jolts me into another bout of laughter, this time much louder and uncontrolled, when he abandons the cake pop on the table to playfully prod my ribs. I neglected to tell him I’m just as ticklish as I discovered he is, perhaps even more, in fear of exactly something like this happening—in him using it against me.

Trying to shimmy my way off his lap, I giggle and plead through my squeals for him to stop before he locks one arm around my waist while the other continues to tickle me relentlessly.

“I’m staying the night, and I’ll only stop if I hear no arguments,” he announces, stating it as fact and with no room for me to protest. Through his merciless fingers and my laughter I hardly comprehend what he says.

“Yes, yes,” I agree breathlessly only in hopes he’ll ease up so I can catch my breath. I reason I can freak out about what I agreed to later.

“Good,” he smirks, satisfied as his fingers pause at my midsection. “I’m glad you see things my way.”

Stupidly, I think about earlier tonight and how those very same hands were on me, but under my shirt and much hotter and far less innocent in their advances. I shake my head in an effort to rid myself of such embarrassing thoughts, and while I don’t openly worry, I feel nerves begin to crop up at the thought of Harry spending the night at my house.

Back at his apartment when I slept curled into him on the sofa was different, and I never really agreed to that in the first place. Hell, Harry had practically forced me into a cuddle session with him. My thoughts race and I feel my face heat while I think about all the possibilities. Holy crap—are we going to sleep in the same bed?

Vivian would roar with laughter if she ever heard me wonder such a thing, because I’m sure the answer is fairly obvious. As if he knows to distract me, Harry reaches for the cake pop again and brings forth the dark, chocolate covered treat.

“I promise to behave.” Despite his pledge I don’t miss Harry’s flirtatious smirk and perhaps the little bit of hidden meaning beneath his words.

Deep down I know, though, that Harry just likes to be cheeky and maybe even provoke a little reaction from me. I know he wouldn’t do anything that makes me uncomfortable… at least, if he can help it. Lots of things make me uncomfortable. Even so, I play along. “I bet.”

“Here, this one’s my favorite,” he offers, holding it to my mouth so I can take a bite. I do so tentatively, and he smirks as soon as he sees my surprise. If this moment wasn’t so worth it, I would almost regret not having tried one of these delicious treats until now. “See. I told you so.”

I agree with him, nodding enthusiastically after I swallow. “It is pretty good.”

It seems that just by speaking, by now allowing my innocent fears time to grow or show through, that I don’t find the prospect of having Harry over so intimidating. Just like that, it’s settled; Harry is staying the night and while I might be nervous, I’m okay with it.

Later that night, I stay up much longer than I usually would just to enjoy Harry’s always comforting presence. I come to terms with the fact that the only reason I head to bed as early as I do is because I hate to face my empty house. My empty house without Grandma or Caleb. But with Harry, it’s as if my whole world springs to life. I find I don’t mind staying up until midnight with him to watch a couple romantic comedies while I doze with our limbs entangled and my head resting in the expanse between his shoulder and the crook of his neck. I hear his heart beat and the amused chuckle he releases every now and again, and it’s so tranquilizing I could have stayed there with him on the couch all night.

He behaves, too. There isn’t a single heated moment other than whenever his attention strays from the television and he chooses to plant a light, open-mouthed kiss to the corner of my mouth. Throughout the night his fingers occupy themselves in my hair, sifting through the strands in the most relaxing of ways. I like to think this is Harry’s way of proving to me that he can behave, that I can trust him. This period of peace—it’s exactly what I need.

Only when the credits to the second movie begin to roll and I’m half asleep atop Harry do we decide to call it a night.

As soon as we make our way toward my bedroom, however, I quite literally feel myself tense up more and more with each step closer. Even in my drowsy state my mind starts to race uselessly, overthinking the seemingly colossal bombshell that Harry is going to be sleeping in my bed with me. Harry notices my tension and perhaps smartly decides against commenting, though he makes a show of making himself right at home.

When he starts to undo his belt buckle while he stands at the edge of my bed, my entire body heats to an unfathomable degree and I trip over my own feet as I stumble backward.

“I—um, have to, brush my teeth,” I stutter like a total fool. Harry only briefly looks up from his task of undoing his jeans with a mischievous smile and I realize belatedly that for him, my embarrassment is expected.

It’s almost comforting, but the more I think about how silly I must appear the more flustered I become. I manage to remain frozen until he nods, amused, and I busy myself with finding a set of pajamas in my closet, my back turned right as I hear the clink his belt makes when his jeans come in contact with the floor. I walk on unsteady legs to the bathroom—it’s a wonder I don’t break out into a sprint, and I take my time in there with my usual nightly routine all while I curse myself for how ridiculous I am. Brush my teeth? I suppose it’s a halfway viable excuse, but that’s exactly what it is. An excuse.

I know I can’t delay the inevitable facing of Harry for long. Harry in my bed, waiting for me. Oh, crap. Thanks, Vivian.

Neither does it help when I finally examine myself in the mirror above my sink and see the reddened mark Harry left at the base of my throat earlier tonight during our heated confrontation. I have no idea how to cover it up, my heart stuttering at the mere sight of such a mark, and my mind reels with the fact that I’ve been clueless to its existence all night. I wonder if he did it on purpose, as another sort of way to make us ‘official’, and yet I still can’t get over the fact that Harry gave me a freaking hickey.

Crap—I push the thoughts far from my mind and can only hope the mark fades a little by morning so a little cover up might conceal its presence. It isn’t a big deal, not as much as I make it out to be. It could certainly be much more substantial, I realize, and so I try to at least calm down my tattered nerves a little before I reluctantly leave the bathroom.

My bedroom door remains ajar because I was in too big of a hurry to shut it when I made my escape, so I have no time to compose myself or put it off any longer. Hesitant as ever, I peek inside with my palm resting numbly on the handle, and I find Harry has already made himself comfortable in my bed under the thin covers, only coming up to his hips so his shirtless torso is on display. For a moment my eyes stray to the vast array of tattoos scattered across his skin before I tear my eyes away and push open the door. I’ve seen the tattoos on his arms and of course those swallows on either side of his chest, but never those. Admittedly, I’m a little curious.

With my downward gaze I see his jeans kicked haphazardly to the side, and the sight alone is enough to make me blush. Harry looks up from his phone as soon as the door swings open, and thankfully not a single crude comment is produced from his plump lips.

“Come on,” he beckons me closer, and my feet carry me closer in a nervous daze. He peels back the covers for me, cool and collected just as I expect. “Come to bed. I think we’ve both had a long day.”

Thank you, Harry. One of us making it weird is more than enough, I think to myself. The sheet he has strewn up to his waist allows me a view of his defined abs, hips, and the beginnings of his boxers. They’re all he’s wearing, and the thought causes my breath to catch and I look away heatedly. The edge of the bed brushes against my leg, but I can’t seem to make the last step, too afraid to come any closer.

Harry shocks me, however, when he hooks my wrist and quite literally yanks me down onto the bed beside him. I land on my back with a disbelieving ‘oomph’ that mingles with a squeak.

“You were taking too long,” he explains, and he actually has the nerve to pout.

Forward as always.

Somehow during the fall he managed to maneuver his arm around my waist, however, and he keeps it there as he leans against the headboard. He makes no sign of releasing me any time soon, shifting his head so he has a clear view of my face. He searches my eyes for something, and I’m sure they’re probably as wide as saucers.

“Sorry, this is just—” I struggle to find the right words, my position melting away ninety percent of my brain power. Next to him so close, I feel his side pressed solid and hot against my torso and the outside of his leg brushes against my own. It feels so suddenly intimate to be so close to him, even though our intentions are mostly innocent.

“New?” He guesses, light and non-teasing. I relax a little at this, at the reassurance that Harry knows exactly how I feel.

“Yeah,” I respond, still unsteady because I seem to by hyperaware of his nearly naked body cased against mine. I’m grateful I managed to choose something half covering to change into; a pair of cotton shorts and a loose t-shirt.

Surely suppressing one of his signature smirks, Harry nods. “I have plans to do nothing but sleep in your bed tonight, Jules.”

Yeah. Tonight.

“Harry,” I groan, covering my face with my hand from my free side. As always, he has to be so blunt and point out the obvious elephant in the room. Regardless, though, I do take some comfort in his umpteenth reassurance.

“Alright, alright,” he relents, clearly amused and unaffected by my embarrassment. “Here, we’ll turn out the light and go straight to sleep. Sound good?”

I get the feeling that Harry knows exactly what he’s doing when he sits up and leans over me to turn off the dim light sat atop my beside table. With him comes his always masculine smell that simultaneously knocks me over and ignites my senses. In a moment the room is coated in darkness, but I can’t rid the picture of Harry’s bare chest close to my face from my mind even after he’s settled back down beside me.

Situating himself on his side, Harry obviously intends to carry on with his plan, but there’s no way I can sleep like he suggested. Through the darkness I can still feel his intense stare focussed on me, and I startle slightly when I feel his hand at my waist, tugging me so my back is flush against his chest and one of his bare legs comes to tangle between mine. A few seconds pass where I marvel at how once again Harry seems to be so comfortable with me and I’m so used to it that I allowed him to rearrange my body to fit next to his.

I remain tense, hardly breathing because if I didn’t know any better I would say Harry was naked beside me, and that in itself is panic-inducing enough. The feeling of his arm draped over my waist and holding me close to him is both familiar and foreign, though totally pleasant; he reminds me again of a furnace with the amount of heat his body seems to produce, and I’m glad I chose a pair of shorts instead of pants in my haywire state.

Neither of us utter any form of goodnight, and in the silence while I think Harry is simply humoring me and my awkwardness, I think about all that has happened tonight and Harry’s new promise. I feel like he shouldn’t have made it, that he might regret it once my truth is finally disclosed.

After all, he could have any girl he desires, I dejectedly remind myself, and this will be too much for him to handle. When I let slip about my father earlier tonight, I was afraid I might have broken him, just from my own pain. God, I don’t want to force any more grief on Harry… but if he has his stubborn way, I might end up having to.

“You’re tense,” Harry murmurs, almost in a whisper save for the throaty purr he adopts when near sleep. He moves so his fingers brush along the curve of my waist. It serves to make me stiffen even more, though he only pauses for a moment at my reaction before his fingers start a mesmerizing sequence of movements up and down my side. His touch is feather light and much too easy to succumb to.

I sigh softly at the acknowledgement of my nervousness, concentrating on the comfort Harry brings just from near, and how his chest pressed to my back brings me a certain kind of peace I’ve only ever felt while in Harry’s presence.

“What are you thinking about?” He prods gently, and as he speaks I feel his breath tickle my neck. Even quiet and subdued, his voice manages to fill the otherwise silent room.

A lot… I’m thinking about a lot of things—but I doubt Harry wants one of my usual vague answers. I think about how Harry is the first boy I’ve ever had in my bed, our encounter in the kitchen, the necklace, and if he meant what he said.

I decide to surprise us both by being honest… again. Hesitantly, I bring my own hand up to rest on top of Harry’s, causing him to still his movements. I take comfort in it just being there, in Harry. I feel as if I’m not quite so alone anymore, and that maybe… just maybe, I don’t deserve to be like I have always believed.

“About your promise,” I say eventually, wide awake.

Harry reacts immediately, shifting our hands so his larger one engulfs mine in a protective encirclement. “What about it?”

Well, where do I even start? To his credit, though, Harry doesn’t sound tired or fed up with my constant questions and second guessing. I decide to go out on a limb, to try and talk out my feelings for once, and I know that if it weren’t for Harry and all that’s happened since I met him, I wouldn’t have ever considered doing so.

“Did you really mean it?”

At that, however, I hear him suck in a sharp breath and he leans up in the darkness to peer down at me. I turn my head to train my eyes on the outline of his face, imagining there to be an array of emotions flicker through his dark eyes, and I bet they are mostly of displeasure.

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it,” he states with a hard, uneasy edge. I know he probably thought we were past this, past my doubt, and I feel bad for revisiting it. For the most part, though, I am past those dejected thoughts. One last time, I just want to be sure.

So I prepare myself as best I can for the immeasurable anguish if Harry decides to take the chance I’m about to offer.

“I believe you,” I say, turning all the way so I’m lying on my back, and I take a brief moment to savour the sight of the man hovering over me as I brush a stray curl back from his forehead. My eyes have adjusted a little more to the darkness, and I can barely discern the soft flutter of Harry’s eyelashes at my volunteered contact. “But I just—I want to give you one more chance. Before we have any more of an opportunity to get hurt—”

“Julia,” he warns, and even though he knows exactly where I’m going with this, I can’t stop.

“You can leave now, Harry. And that would be the end of it.” It would be a lie if I said it wouldn’t crush me and in all probability cause me to be sadder than ever, so I can’t bring myself to say any of that. Hell, I consider it to be a miracle I managed to say that much without shedding any tell-tale tears. In fact, I don’t cry at all. I don’t allow myself to, because I don’t want to bias Harry or his decision with one of my pitiful displays.

If he says he’ll stay and he doesn’t when I finally do find the courage to tell him, though, it will hurt. It will hurt a lot, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to take it. I’m past the point of trying to keep my already damaged heart close and locked away. More and more with every day that passes, Harry holds another piece of it which I didn’t even know still existed.

“I’m not leaving.” He doesn’t hesitate, and I try to squash the flicker of hope at his conviction.

“Harry,” I begin again brokenly. “You need to be sure. You have to tell me now that you meant what you said—that you understand what that means—”

“I understand,” he cuts me off again midway through my desperate, wounded ramble, and he sounds so confident even though he has no clue what he is agreeing to or what he’s up against. It reignites the hope I try so hard to keep extinguished.

“Whatever it is you have to tell me, I won’t rush you, even if I might be a little tempted,” he raises his voice when I open my mouth to reply, and it’s sufficient enough to keep me quiet. I know I should have expected him to be so forthright, but it’s still shock worthy. “You say this is my chance to leave? Well, it’s also my chance to stay—with you, not whatever you have to tell me. I’m choosing you, Jules. I’m staying.”

He realizes what he’s saying, and better than that he believes he does. And now it’s my turn to believe in him. His words have a resounding effect on my nearly collapsed frame of stable mind, so much so it’s hard for me to chew and dissect. Harry wants me for me, not my heart disorder. Ultimately it might be the most wonderful, reassuring thing he has ever said to me.

Unable to keep the minimal distance between us after he was so truthful with me, I tug on Harry’s shoulder until he leans down, convinced he’s finally gotten through to me, and he presses a gentle kiss to my mouth before he burying his face into the crook of my neck. His warm breath tickles the sensitive spot he earlier marked, and the darkness is a blessing tonight because I flush all over again.

I’m thankful he doesn’t expect any more of a reply, but I feel the need, for some reason totally unlike me, to keep speaking.

“You’re sure?” I try one last time. “Because it’s bad.”

Harry doesn’t rear back to look at me in disgruntlement like I suspected he might, but he does take up another mesmerizing pattern on my upper arm with the pad of his thumb. He’s decided, now. Nothing I can say will make him change his mind.

And that’s the happiest thought I’ve had all night.

“I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”

A shiver stems from my neck and down my spine from the feeling of Harry’s mouth against my flesh as he talks. Then I sense him smile, having undoubtedly caught my subtle instinctual reaction to him. Finally, he leans up again to smile sleepily. The sight of him is totally indescribable, beautiful. “So you believe me now?”

Believing him goes against everything—every single one of my doubts, fears, and insecurities. I hesitate, and Harry doesn’t like it.

“Jules…” he begins warningly. “I’m not playing around.”

“I know,” I say in a hurried rush, sensing his frustration beginning to build. “I know. I believe you.”

Through the darkness I can feel Harry study my expression like he always does, as if I’m so attuned to him I can tell when his are trained on me even when I can’t see. More than anything, it’s a sense of nervous exhilaration. Right now I imagine the dark green of his irises searching my own eyes, as if he’s trying to find a fault or a lie written plainly across my face. But there isn’t one; I really do believe that Harry means what he says.

Like he’s chosen me instead of what I’m keeping from him, I choose to believe Harry truly does care for me, that he will prove to me that he’ll stay. It might be foolish to take his word for it, but I have no reason not to. I’ve never taken a chance even once before in my life, and if there’s anyone I would ever take a chance on… it’s Harry.

I believe him.

“Good,” he hums in satisfaction. The tension previously hung in the air dissipates in the blink of an eye, and suddenly Harry is back to his happy half-asleep self… I appreciate his ability to switch so quickly back to normalcy more than he realizes. “Is there anything else you want to talk about?”

“I don’t think so,” I trail off in thought, racking my mind for anything left unsaid, only ‘the big topic’, and I absolutely cannot approach such a huge thing at half past midnight while we’re trying to sleep. “No,” I say again, more sure of myself this time.

He turns his head to the side to yawn, and I start to feel really bad for keeping him awake—but he did insist on staying the night, after all.

“What time do you have to be at work tomorrow?” His voice has turned hoarse again with suppressed sleep, and the sound causes me to smile drowsily too. Reality has only seemed to set in on what a blessing this is; Harry staying over here, right next to me while I sleep.

“Nine,” I reply as he rolls to his original position and pulls me back against his chest again. We both spend a second calculating how many hours of sleep we have left, the silence comfortable, and I keep my small, contented smile when Harry snakes his arm over my waist and holds my hand tightly.

“Oh, and Harry?” I ask, on the verge of sleep already, and I’m not quite sure what I’m saying.

“Yes, love?”

“I want you too.”

Notes

Thank you so much for your wonderful comments on the previous chapter. I adore you :) I hope this story lives up to your expectations! I love writing it and always put forth so much effort; I only hope that others might enjoy reading it too.

So. Thoughts? What do you think of Harry's little test of trust? And Jules' doubts somewhat being put to rest? Let me know! I love hearing from everyone. For real, it makes my day.

Also, Harry's POV for the next chapter. I have a couple of questions and I would appreciate it very much if you could give me your input! One: do you like reading Harry's POV? And two: it will be quite long, just over 9,000 words, and would you guys rather split it in two parts like I did with this or just have one lengthy chapter? It's up to you!

Your comments provide me with a crazy amount of motivation to write and get chapters out for you on a regular basis! Wink wink haha :)