Inherent

I’m close to telling Harry.

And I mean really, really close.

A little over a week has passed since we went to the Cardinals game together and he dropped the pepper spray bomb on me afterward, and though at first I worried things might not be alright, this past week has been flawless in every aspect when it comes to our relationship. What’s more is that it’s been totally effortless, this routine we still manage. Routine is good for me. Harry’s odd moods and paranoia dissipated after last Friday night, and I don’t have much of an explanation for it aside from maybe the reassurance of my being protected now even if in a small way might have eased his worries a little. Thankfully, he’s back to his usual cheeky self full-time.

I’m so close. I don’t want to put it off for much longer, because I feel as if not telling him has created a wall of sorts between us, and our relationship might not advance until I do come clean. And while I might be content with the way things are now, I know it can’t go on like this forever. Eventually he won’t be so patient, and I don’t want to wait until that time comes.

Today I spend my afternoon down in the depths of the book store’s basement where Alex has been sticking me entirely too often lately. It’s tedious work, organizing and pricing text books I have no interest in at all, and to entertain myself I wonder when would be a good time to bring it up to Harry. Of course, I’m nervous as hell just at the mere premise of telling him, but if there’s ever been anyone who deserves to know, it’s him.

To me, Harry proved he wouldn’t leave on that very first Saturday after we met and I had my slight, desperate mental break, and then he kissed me for the first time. After he saw my list. He has already accepted so much of me—so my logic, essentially, is why not try going a step further?

Harry won’t leave, I reassure myself for the first time ever. It’s the first time I’ve ever thought it without a nagging voice in the back of my mind whispering yes, he will, and without giving myself reasons why he should leave regardless.

No, I’ve had enough of my overgrowth of self-doubt and instinctual hesitation. If nothing else is enough, these past few weeks have more than proved I can be normal, my heart be damned. I can be normal… I can be happy. Harry, most of all, has made me see I deserve to be. That fact alone provides me with enough strength to finally tell him.

Before he entered my life, I didn’t count myself when it came to deserving happiness. I believed I was destined to be sad because I have lost so much and my heart has already been broken many times over. I had convinced myself it was okay to be alone, that I was perfectly fine by myself.

I wasn’t.

I wasn’t, and Harry has also proved that to me.

I’m ready to be happy now. I’m ready to count.

Since our project has been (mostly) completed, Harry brought up taking off a little time away from his management of The Castle to relax and spend some time with together. He has some things to take care of and arrange, though he told me he wants to take time off in the beginning of July. To enjoy the summer… and the fourth of July will be amazing, maybe the perfect time to tell him.

A couple of weeks. That’s how long I have, and I figure it isn’t too long of a wait. It will give me ample time to figure out how to tell Harry in a way where I don’t end up crying and without adding too much sadness to the event, in a way where he won’t freak out and leave. My initial ideas are all crap, thrown out the window as soon as they come to mind. I can’t spring such a thing on him unexpectedly or blindside him, yet I don’t want to make any more of a huge deal out of it than I already have to.

Somehow relieved and frustrated at the same time, on an angry huff I pull out a book from the top shelf with too much force, causing all the ones stacked on top of it to fall to the floor and catch painfully on my toes.

Someone requested the heavy, outdated tome because it is a previous edition and therefore, a little easier on the wallet. For me, it usually spells trouble.

“Shit,” I swear, totally uncensored as I hop on one foot while I hold the other, the book I reached for abandoned with the others on the floor. I’m so deep into the basement there couldn’t possibly be an overhearing customer near.

“Such language,” a deep, raspy voice says with a tut from the mouth of the aisle. My heart lurches in fright and I whirl around to face Harry, nearly toppling over while I still favour my damaged foot. Surely blushing like mad, I slowly let go of my flat and lower my foot back to the ground, toes throbbing from the impact of the hefty textbooks.

“You scared me,” I try to scold, my voice much quieter now, but my mood has undeniably been lifted with his sudden appearance. Lately—since the last Friday, really—Harry has been dropping in to visit me at work whenever he’s near and has the chance. The first time he popped in I was nervous about Alex, but I realized Alex really can’t do much. Harry’s short visits offer me a small refuge from my toiling work day; I feel safer with him around too. Much safer than the pepper spray stowed away in my bag upstairs could ever make me feel.

Although he mightn’t have said anything about it, I know very well that Alex isn’t keen on Harry being in the store.

“My apologies, madam,” Harry says, this time trying to be exaggeratedly posh. It’s funny to me, because he usually sounds proper enough as it stands. He picks up the books, stacking them on top of each other before he puts them back on the shelf after I separate the one I need from the lot. I smile in tired thanks.

“I am a good boyfriend, you know,” he informs, as always confident with his familiar smirk.

I raise my eyebrows, as if clueless and disbelieving. “Oh yeah?”

“Yes, yes I am. I snuck past your grouchy co-worker so as not to get you in trouble.” His upbeat tone despite talking about a man he dislikes so much and the humor dancing within his jade eyes causes me to giggle, losing every bit of tension I managed to build up throughout the day.

“So not only are you a good boyfriend, but you are also a stealthy one.” It still feels strange to call Harry my boyfriend and to think of myself as his girlfriend especially, but it’s a wonderful kind of strange.

Without a drop of hesitance, Harry gently guides me backward until I’m pressed against the bookshelf, his hands at my waist. “The full package, baby,” he confirms.

I shake my head at him, smiling still, and I have to admit I agree with him. Not only is he too handsome and charming for his own good, but Harry is also compassionate, kind and persistent… and stubborn, in the very best way possible. And he always seems to know exactly how I feel, sometimes before I even figure it out myself. What a fluke, a wonderful fluke, it was to have met him; twice in the same day way back when and he insisted on helping me to the coffee shop, and then all but forced my number out of me.

In the following seconds the air thickens and charges electrically around us while I realize exactly how good he looks in another one of his fitted suits. Today he is sans jacket, wearing a pair of dark slacks and a white dress shirt with several buttons undone at the collar to showcase his toned chest and the edges of those swallow tattoos I have come to appreciate so much. His thick curls are styled upward, as usual, and done so in a messy and quick fashion. The look is totally effortless, and though I know it’s entirely too negative of me I can’t help but to feel plain and ugly in comparison to Harry. In my mandatory plain black work t-shirt and jeans with minimal makeup and hair left in messy curls, I’m nothing special at all.

From the way his eyes slowly travel down my form as he presses close to me until our torsos brush, however, Harry seems to believe otherwise.

Not a single word is uttered between us, the sudden tension too thick to breach verbally, and Harry’s palm migrates to the bottom of my back as he thrusts me closer to him, eyes heavy lidded while his vision trains on my mouth. I flush under his intense attention. While he bends slightly so our foreheads touch our eyes flutter closed, us both lost in the sensation of being so close to one another. Our mouths nearly touch but not quite, leaving me with a longing sensation low and thick in my stomach. And he doesn’t make another move. I don’t know how we changed so quickly from our light, playful mood to this heated tension, but Harry’s achieved it and we haven’t even kissed yet.

This is the effect he as on me, and there’s no use in denying it any longer. My usually large supply of patience thins—more than anything right now, I want his mouth on mine.

“Harry,” I all but whisper out, my lungs expelled of the last of the oxygen I held in at his first touch. My fingers curl around his bicep and with my other hand I resist the urge to fist and wrinkle the fabric of his shirt. His minty breath mingles with my own through shallow, light pants. Finally he relents and leans forward, quickly eliminating the minuscule distance between our mouths with an agonizingly delicate peck—the exact opposite of what I was expecting. It only causes me to want more. Why is he choosing to hold back today? Normally Harry acts on his intense desires as they strike, and before now I have never had to exercise such patience in this area.

I gasp in shock when, without any warning whatsoever, both of Harry’s hands snake downward in a one quick fluid motion to grab a firm hold of my backside, simultaneously squeezing and pushing my hips upward into his. The contact creates a staggering amount of friction.

“I came by,” he finally speaks after a sharp inhale, his eyes practically squeezed shut and his words forced. Hands unfaltering, his touch feels burning hot through my jeans. He angles his head to the side so his breath hits my neck, and just as he intended it sends a wave of shivers down my spine. When Harry has me like this, there’s no way I can form any sort of coherent speech. “To ask you something.”

Slowly, my mind processes his statement at a snail’s pace through the intoxicating haze his touch creates in my mind.

“What?” I ask, unable to focus on anything but his hips crushed firmly to mine and his hands on my bottom. I try my hardest not to grip his arm too tightly while I lean backward to wonder what he could possibly be thinking about right now, how he’s capable of focussing on anything else at all.

“There’s an event being held at The Castle next week,” he explains, his eyes open now and he sounds totally collected once again. I wish I could say the same for myself, though I don’t miss how his eyes have darkened to a mossy shade of green—evidence of his desire. I jolt forward at the feeling of his fingers dipping into my back pockets, wiggling around the one I designate for my phone, and for a moment Harry lingers there. I find this a little odd, but the lessened fabric between his hands my bare flesh seems like much less than it actually is. “I was thinking you could go, too, and perhaps meet a few of my mates.”

Such an invitation does well in catapulting me from my dazed state and I blink, shocked at first. Through all this time, I haven’t really thought about meeting the friends Harry surely has, other than Lou. Harry leans back slightly to drink in my reaction, which is one of confliction. On one hand I want to because this is something he wants and is easy for me to give him, and on the other… well, I’m not so great with crowds, parties, or meeting several people at once. This could quite possibly be a recipe for disaster.

“They’ve been asking about you for weeks now, but I haven’t wanted to put any pressure on you. It’s your decision—though you’d make me a very happy man if you do decide to accompany me.”

There he goes again, trying to sell it to me. It forces me from my rattled thoughts and back to the present, and I catch sight of his softened eyes and how he bites his bottom lip in anticipation. The thought of meeting those close to Harry is intimidating—much more so than meeting any other regular person. Because, I reason, these people are his friends. Their opinion must mean something to him, and what if they don’t like me? Will they convince him I’m not worth all the trouble I have caused after all?

I swallow thickly, my heart beginning to thump in a worrisome way at my temples from all the anxiety inducing thoughts. Harry senses my stress straight away, and one of his hands strays from my pockets to push my hair back from my face, his touch gentle and light. He doesn’t speak, however, and I realize he doesn’t want to bias my decision more than he already has.
“I’m not sure, Harry,” I voice shakily, my nerves showing through as plain as day.

“You have nothing to worry about, Jules,” he reassures me softly, and I know he has already accurately guessed where my thoughts have strayed. I don’t want to disappoint him, I don’t. Not with this, not with something so simple when he has already given me the world. “They adore you already, and they haven’t even met you.”

A wave of intense apprehension ripples through my system. I try my hardest to shake away the feeling of dread, telling myself that if Harry considers these people his friends, they can’t be too bad. Besides, if he thought it would make me uncomfortable then I seriously doubt he would push it on me so suddenly and, in reality, without much of a choice in the matter. To prove his point, Harry leans down and covers my mouth with his own for a long moment, effective in silencing every last one of my frantic thoughts and worries. The tenderness conveyed through the gentle caress causes any lingering doubts I have left to melt away, though I have already made up my mind.

“So what do you say?” He finally inquires. This is one of those rare moments in which he looks pensive, vulnerable.

Shrugging, I try to play it cool even though I’m aware he can see straight through my act. “Can Vivian come too? She’s been nagging me about ‘officially meeting you’, and I doubt she’ll wait much longer.”

Not that I’m lying, but meeting Harry’s friends is a big deal and I hope maybe having a friend of my own with me might make it a little easier. Or, knowing Vivian, she is quite capable of making it worse at my expense.

Harry distracts me with one of his exuberant, crooked grins. “You can invite all of Chicago for all I care. As long as you’re there.”

Cliché butterflies erupt in my stomach, but I revel in the moment and enjoy this sweet side of Harry. I don’t believe I could ever possibly get enough of him, not when he still has one hand feeling up my backside while the other traces my collarbone teasingly and he’s so, so happy.

“I like The Castle,” I muse, and I do. Quite a bit. It’s the only night club I have ever deemed tolerable, and that says a lot. Harry without doubt knows what he is doing when it comes to business—but really, if I’m honest, he is the main attraction. “Only if you’re there, though,” I echo, smiling shyly, but it’s quickly wiped as I gasp when Harry’s hand gives my bum a quick, playful squeeze.

“Harry,” I lower my voice and resist the urge to lean into him, flustered now that I can see through the heated haze Harry earlier cast over the both of us. “There could be people down here.”

By people I don’t mean innocent straggling customers, I mean Alex. I don’t think I could ever face him again if he caught me down in the basement pressed up against a bookshelf with a man’s hands all over me. With a deceptively innocent expression, Harry pulls his hand from my pocket without a single protest.

“Sorry, darling. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t,” I reassure him quickly. If anything, I was quite comfortable in our previous position. If only I didn’t have to worry about overbearing ‘friends’ peeping in on us.

Now with his hand in front of me and extremely close to my chest, I see he also took my phone. I glance up at him in curiosity, wondering what he could want with it right now. He acts as casual and confident as ever when he unlocks it, having memorized my passcode long ago, and brings up my camera app.

“No pictures,” I protest and try to evade his grasp, but his hips have sufficiently pinned me and he keeps one arm around my waist to hold me in place. I laugh though it all, because even through my struggling I know Harry will get his way.

The last time we took a picture together was at the baseball game, and even then I wasn’t too excited. Next to Harry I always feel like an ugly duckling, and it is only ever accentuated in photographs.

“Wait, wait,” he says as he holds the phone out in front of us, his brilliant smile already waiting for the picture. He pushes me closer to him with his free hand. “There. Stop wiggling, this is perfect.”

“But I look gross,” I complain again half-heartedly, though lord only knows the fluorescent lights of the basement aren’t at all flattering on my features. It’s alright for Harry—he’s naturally photogenic. What I say gives him pause, however, and I start to regret opening my mouth at all. He angles toward me, dipping his chin to get a better look at my somewhat panicked expression while his smile dims and his gaze turns serious, though soft. I force myself to bring forth the courage to hold eye contact with him, but mine is much more nervous than his own confident, determined one.

“Don’t speak lowly of yourself, Jules,” he orders gently. “You’re beautiful.”

Then, with tenderness others might believe could never exist in Harry, he leans down farther to kiss me again, but this time it isn’t playful or full of a heated desire so foreign to me—he kisses me with a sincerity I feel, rather than hear. When he pulls back he wears the soft smile he saves for when he knows he has made me feel better.

Because he has. I barely even heard the few clicks of the camera during our brief kiss and the precious moment thereafter; I’m totally okay with having my picture taken now, Harry instilled an amount of confidence within me I never would have thought possible.

“You are amazing,” I mumble, something I end up admitting all too often. Only because it’s true.

“Smile for me,” he replies huskily. “So I have something to hold me over when you refuse my company.”

For Harry and his cheeky request, I offer the camera a wide, genuine grin while I lean—now willingly—into his chest. “Thank you, sweetheart,” he says appreciatively after the shutter sounds and his nimble fingers navigate the screen so we can look at the shot. I flush when I see he indeed did take a picture of us kissing, though he settles on the last one we took.

“It’s perfect,” I decide… if I’m honest, though, I focus only on Harry in the frame, his dimples popped and his olive eyes dancing with happiness.

“Why yes, yes you are,” he says, probably only to up the cheesiness factor. It forces from me a light giggle, and I know he infuses more meaning to the playful compliment that he lets on.

“As are you.” I reply easily, also meaning it more than my playful tone implies.

Harry sends all the pictures we took on my phone to himself, and he keeps his arm around me while he does so. “I think I’ll use this one,” he muses, and I catch sight of the picture of us both smiling at the camera. “For my lock screen. And this one,” he then swipes left to the picture of us kissing. He nibbles on his lip through a smirk. “For my background.”

A giddy sort of embarrassment overtakes me at the thought. It might be a casual thing to do, but for some reason to me it means much more, as if another step in the right direction for this odd little relationship he have established. It’s probably just another case of overthinking things, but for me it feels like another good sign. “Hmm... I think I might do the same.”

A tingle sweeps up my neck and across my face, and I know the blush I must be wearing is deep and extremely telling when I catch sight of his lips curling up into his usual heartwarming beam. It causes my stomach to erupt into more of those useless flutters. The sound of his voice, light and heartfelt, warms my entire being. “I’d like that.”

“I’ll call Vivian on my lunch break.” I don’t want to change the subject but I don’t think my body can take the intense happiness I feel at the simplicity of this small moment. “So she doesn’t have the chance to make other plans.”

Something tells me, though, that Vivian wouldn’t miss this opportunity for the world. For one, the event is going to be hosted at one of Chicago’s hottest night clubs—and this time Vivian will get a look at the coveted Dome Room where god knows a ton of socialites and even a few celebrities will be—and she has been on my case about meeting Harry ever since I filled her in on what happened after she left the house that day, when Harry made us official.

And I don’t blame her; for so long it’s just been Harry and I in this little cocoon, shielded from the outside world to just enjoy being with each other. In retrospect I think I needed all this time to ourselves, to become accustomed to him and all his Harry-isms and to even being in a relationship. Now, though, it’s about time we ‘went public’ so to speak. I’m willing to bet Harry has been putting his friends off for some time now, and I don’t want them to believe I’m snobby or don’t want to meet them.

It may be a big step, but it’s one I want to take.

“Sounds perfect. Thank you,” he says again, and then he takes my unintentional hint. “Well, I suppose I’ll let you get back to shouting at books,” he grins, leaning down to give me a soft kiss goodbye. I giggle into it because of his joke and peck his lips affectionately in return.

In truth, I don’t want to see him go. “I’ll see you later,” I say anyway, begrudgingly, and make the promise without thinking twice. By now I’m long used to our wonderful little routine.

Nodding in content, Harry retracts his arm and I turn to watch him make his departure. When he’s only a few meters away, he spins on his heel and raises a questioning eyebrow. “My place or yours?”

His suggestive tone leads me to believe he wants a change in our usual pattern, and for a second I wonder why. Until now he hasn’t brought up making the switch from my house to his for a change. I don’t know if I’m quite ready for that. The last time I slept at his house was on our first date, and I still am not sure if that even counts. Anything new isn’t usually easy for me to swallow. Still… this shouldn’t be a big deal, and I know that all too well. It’s just his home—it won’t swallow me whole as soon as I step foot into his bedroom.

His bedroom. Why does that sound so terrifying?

“Um…” I pause, frozen on the spot. “Mine?”

I hate the idea of disappointing Harry, though if I have he covers it anyway with bright eyes and an accepting nod.

“Until then, Miss Townsend.” He bows dramatically with a wild arm gesture, which is more than successful in lightening the mood even further when I fall into an unrestrained spell of laughter at his always boisterous antics. Harry seems to like leaving me smiling, and I have to admit I do, too. Even a few minutes after he leaves and I get back to work I still wear the same goofy, love-struck expression. Doe eyes and all—a few leftover chuckles even escape whenever I think about how ridiculous Harry can be. It’s now, when I’m labelling the defunct editions of textbooks to be brought upstairs and put on sale, that I decide when I’m going to tell him.

After Friday, after I meet his friends and (hopefully) have the reassurance they accept me, too, I’ll tell him. There’s no more putting it off. It will be my own personal ultimatum, because things absolutely cannot go on any longer. I need to tell Harry—not only because he deserves to know and the time feels right, but I need to get it off my chest. It will be a good way, to sit down after the night is over, to level with him. The outcome could be two very different possibilities: with us sleeping curled in in each other, as usual, or it could end bad. It could end horribly and I could have my heart totally smashed to pieces once and for all, and I could lose Harry.

Just by being the way I am—by having this stupid condition, something uncontrollable, I could lose everything we have built over these past couple of months. The possibility is disheartening and has me swaying back to putting it all off again, but I stop myself. I don’t think about all the negative risks, I focus on Harry’s promises and tell myself he won’t leave, I won’t lose him. If I want to get this over with, I need to believe in him with every last faulty piece of my heart.

It could be the beginning or it could be the end. Right now, for once being an optimist, I hope like hell it will be the start of something perfect. Something happy. I don’t dwell on all the things that could go wrong or how I don’t believe I could go back to a life without Harry’s light—I think about what a relief it will be to finally tell him, how he won’t leave, and this will be a step in the right direction.

At least—a much better direction than the one I have us heading in right now.

Unfortunately I don’t receive another moment’s peace after I form my new resolve. Near the stairs, located all the way on the other side of the room and the reason why I didn’t hear Harry’s quiet entrance, I clearly hear a heavy pair of footsteps stomp toward me on the concrete floor. With bated breath I wait, already knowing who it is yet refusing to believe it.

“Julia.” I grimace at the sound of Alex’s voice—just what I dreaded—and without even catching sight of him yet it is obvious he isn’t impressed. I can only hope Harry made an equally discreet departure for my sake. Alex has been grumpy enough lately, and I don’t want to add to it.

“Back here,” I call in return, starting toward the sound of his voice anyway so as not to make him look for me and possibly annoy him further. It isn’t long before I meet him at the small space between the many sections of bookshelves in the deepest bowels of the basement. I stop abruptly in front of him and cross my arms protectively over my chest.

Suddenly the dim overhead lights shed a creepy glow on our surroundings, a chill running through me as I feel alone and vulnerable down here with Alex, a guy whom Harry is adamant isn’t so nice. I think about my pepper spray, laid useless in my bag upstairs, and how I wish I could discreetly carry it with me.

While I stupidly ponder self defense manoeuvres Caleb tried to teach me years ago and how to escape a guy I practically grew up with, Alex smooths down the scruff of his light beard. I smell a layer of cigarette smoke which seems to be permanently embedded in his clothing, and I resist the urge to wrinkle my nose in distaste. When I finally look up at him, I wish Harry was still here at my side, to feel his calming protective presence even though it might get me into more trouble with Alex.

His eyes are dark and red-rimmed, scrutinizing with heavy bluish bags resting underneath them. A sign of how little sleep he has received lately, and Harry’s warning from the other week comes slamming back. If it comes to get what he wants, he’ll hurt you.

“You getting your work done?” He asks slowly; I don’t miss his frown as he speaks and how it grows after studying my form until I end up squirming for the uncomfortable situation. From his forced, condescending tone, I gather Harry’s stealth game mustn’t have been up to snuff and Alex caught him before he could leave undetected.

Now Alex plans to take it out on me, like every other time Harry is mentioned, brought about, or popped in every now and again. Mere talk of Harry, someone who has brought me so much happiness so easily, seems to sour Alex’s mood even more than usual. Lately I’ve been finding it progressively harder and harder to bite my tongue and resist outright telling him off for his crappy, senseless behaviour. For once I want to speak up, to ask what on earth he has against me when I have every reason in the world to have something against him.

I have Caleb against him. If I wasn’t such a pushover, I would bring up my brother’s addiction and hang it over Alex’s head like he deserves.

But no—instead of doing any of that, I stare at him impassively and gather my thoughts into a deceptively polite reply. “I’m almost finished, actually. I got all the anthropology labelled and marked down, plus the book that was requested.”

His frown transforms his lips into a straight, thin line at my unexpected answer. Really, though, I simply rushed through it all in an effort to get out of here sooner. The basement creeps me out. Alex himself creeps me out.

“Is it alright if I take my break in a little while?” I tentatively pose the question, worried it might push him into a rant. Which, in all probability, it will.

He shakes his head like the idea is totally heinous, but it isn’t as if he can say no. “That should be okay,” he hedges.

I smile awkwardly, feeling myself blushing for all the wrong reasons, and it is totally different from the heat Harry spreads up my neck and across my cheeks. This one is of worry, brought by fear. Before I can turn on my heels and flee, a momentary spark of life erupts in the dull pits of his already dark eyes, and the brief flicker is enough to give me pause when his whole face seems to light up at the remembrance of something. For this one single second, they no longer look blank and dim. He more resembles the Alex I remember before everything happened. Before Caleb.

God, I hate thinking in these terms again. Alex’s presence brings forth memories I want to keep buried for as long as possible.

“Say, do you still need any help on that design job you were talking about? Because I could drop by some night after work.”

“Oh,” I say quietly, apologetic and worried at the same time now too. I was right to think it was a lost cause—him helping me, but now it unfortunately is. This is another opportunity for him to become angry for something I couldn’t even help. I brace myself. “I finished it myself, actually. Had to keep with a deadline.”

I watch as what looked to be hope dies from his eyes as quickly as it appeared, and I resist the pushover need to apologize. Not my fault, I all but chant to myself. He can’t deny I didn’t ask him plenty of times before I ultimately had to give up, and each one of those times he all but ignored my proposals.

Likewise, I feel a little guilty because I’m lying to him. I do still need help from a professional coder… just not him. Harry opened my eyes to Alex in a new, darker light and it might make me a bad person, but I don’t want to risk giving him another chance.

He’s already had plenty.

Lately Alex unsettles me even more than usual too, even before Harry brought about all these terrible possibilities. I don’t want to spend any amount of time with him than absolutely necessary.

“Oh, damn. You should have said something,” he says in disappointment, running his fingers through his beard and tiredly across his face again. I shift from foot to foot with uneasiness, eager to evade his glooming presence.

In between which one of your mood swings should I have asked?

“Sorry.” The apology happens before I can help myself, feeling bad even though I know I shouldn’t. He waves me off with an exhausted hand gesture, and my anxiety increases when I spot his ticking jaw, hard eyes, and tensed shoulders. “If that’s all, I’d like to take my break now.”

“Actually, JT, there is something else we need to talk about,” Alex calls as soon as I turn away. I hardly even make it two feet past him. Closing my eyes for a fleeting second, I inwardly curse the twisted fate played in making the two of us work together. Like my life isn’t complicated enough without this added headache. As if preparing for certain doom, I open my eyes and turn back around to face my former friend.

He has his arms crossed and his expression has turned from mildly unimpressed to downright annoyed, eyebrows knitted as he frowns at my nervous form. While I wait for him to bring up whatever he needs to—something I suspect can’t be good—I wonder idly why he decided to bring up the project. All along he seemed the least bit interested, even annoyed when I asked for his help though he would have gotten a good payment. I have no other choice but to conclude his motive for that also can’t be the most acceptable.

“Don’t think I didn’t see your friend leaving just then.” When he takes a step forward, coming closer, I’m forced to take a blind one backward to escape the intimidating proximity. I want to correct him with his conjunction of ‘Harry’ and ‘friend’ but that is a whole other can of complication I really don’t want to open with Alex, especially when he is in such an irrational state.

“He’s been around an awful lot lately. It’s safe for me to assume he’s taking your time for work with his visits, right?” My stunned silence causes him to become even more annoyed.

“What?” I gape, totally caught off guard and shocked by what he’s accusing me of. Now is the first time he has ever brought up Harry so blatantly; before he would just make discreet comments and generally be a sour, insufferable idiot—never, not since the day Harry came into the book store after that weekend and he asked me to look for his book, has Alex mentioned it or so openly expressed his opinion.

“I don’t want to see him in here again.” He continues to frown, though in this satisfied sort of way because he feels he has some sort of power over me in my position.

Before he has time to spew more nonsense, I quickly begin to speak in a jumbled though sure rush. “Alex, are you kidding me? I’ve gotten more work done today alone than you have in the past week.”

It’s no secret Alex has been slacking, too caught up in his personal problems to give a crap about his either his performance or his menial book store job. Even though he should, because I’m almost certain with the way he is right now he wouldn’t be able to get hired any place else.

This whole time I haven’t said a word, doing his share of the work without a single complaint. When he sat in the break room staring down at his cold cup of coffee for over an hour yesterday, I let him be and have his space. Now he’s pissed with me because Harry drops by for five minutes every couple of days? It’s totally unfair, and now I regret ever taking pity on him. He is clearly undeserving.

“Don’t go there, Julia. I am not in a good mood,” he snaps warningly, reminding me once again exactly who he is and Harry’s warning. I really need to find a way to carry the stupid pepper spray with me somehow, concealed. It isn’t even close to bringing me the same amount of security that Harry himself does, but in times like these it would help quite a bit. Alex’s darkened eyes and sharp tone cause me to fall into another lapse of dumbfounded silence, and I take several more quick steps backward and away from him, the small amount of added distance bringing me little relief.

I instinctually reach up to feel my pendant for reassurance and wish desperately that Harry hadn’t left at all. Alex watches the action closely, perplexed, but he doesn’t relax in the slightest even after he so clearly sees how much he’s worrying me.

All of the sudden he isn’t so concerned about my heart any longer or what effects his upsetting me could have. Not long ago he didn’t even want me to stress myself over carrying a few books up from the basement, and now under his directions I spend entire days down here. What happened to that Alex, the one who was marginally easier to put up with? “I’ve seen him in here three times in the past week alone.”

Two, I correct silently and wish I had the nerve to say it aloud. Angry tears sting my eyes and blur my vision, but I blink them back. It’s just a matter of Harry always being close by for his own work—and so he surprises me whenever the opportunity presents itself. It’s cute, endearing, his spontaneous behaviour, and there’s denying I love to see him not matter what I might be doing. More than that, he is my one wonderful distraction and his visits always make my day bearable, to see a friendly face and hear ‘hello, darling’ or some variation of a flirtatious greeting in that accent of his. It makes work not seem so bad anymore, and now Alex wants to take it away.

“But—Alex. It isn’t even that big of a deal.” I grit my teeth to keep for verbally lashing out, my tone a forcefully controlled one which almost reminds of the one Harry uses sometimes when he is near his breaking point; perhaps he’s starting to rub off on me. A stab of annoyance runs through me when Alex holds a hand up to silence me, and I fall quiet with a begrudging, clenched jaw. I have no idea what might have caused him to be this way but he certainly isn’t doing himself any favours. If anything, he’s only causing me to dislike him more than ever.

“I don’t want to hear any excuses. I better not see him in here again, are we clear?”

The way he speaks, so patronizing and full of supposed power as if he thinks he is above me, ignites an anger rooted deep in my gut and spreads outward, making me feel hot while I clamour to tell him off once and for all. I feel dizzy with exertion just from the effort to keep all my exasperated thoughts in my own head.

“I don’t control him!” I end up bursting anyway, my anger having boiled over until I feel far more of it than the fright which kept me silent, meek.

Alex simply shakes his head. A disturbing smile thins his lips. “Well you’re going to have to figure it out, then, because if I see him in here again I’ll just have to bring it to Mitchell.”

Miss Mitchell is one of my professors and also is in independent charge over the university book store—in other words, the big gun. She is also Alex’s great aunt. Old, cranky, and firm in the belief that the sun shines out of her beloved nephew’s ass, o of course, his threat is enough to give me pause. If he really does carry it through I can just as well kiss my job goodbye. While I don’t particularly like my tedious work—when I could be doing something business related to pad my resume—or the company I’m forced to keep, but this job is one I am comfortable with. And I really don’t want to have to look for a new one.

To make matters worse Mitchell doesn’t like me all that much, and I bet she would jump on the opportunity to have me canned. Instead of gratifying Alex with an answer, I scoff at his petty threat and turn my back on him, intent on storming off upstairs to take my break whether he likes it or not.

“I’m not finished,” he all but shouts, his voice coarse as it bounces off the cement walls of the basement. Before the words are even out of his mouth, his clammy hand clamps around my forearm, and he yanks me around roughly to face him. I stumble from the needless force he exerts on my arm, my eyes tearing straight away from the immediate pain. Staring shocked and wide eyed up at him I remain a stunned mute, watching him take deep laboured breaths while he glares down at me.

The pressure on my arm only increases after the startled gasp involuntarily pushes its way from my mouth. He’s brought me unbearably close, my line of vision only inches away from his chest, and he holds my arm up between us.

It hurts. It hurts a lot. If he squeezes any harder, I feel as if he will surely break the fragile bone just above my wrist.

What’s worse is he doesn’t even speak, gazing down at me with what looks to be immense loathing, and for a good ten seconds I can’t help but to stand there frozen, afraid to move in case he might do something worse. But finally, when I can’t take it any longer, I wrench my arm away and glare ferociously at him as I resist the urge to massage the pain away. In front of him after he treated me so recklessly, I feel vulnerable and indignant.

I have done nothing to deserve this treatment from him.

“What is wrong with you?” I waver on each vowel pathetically, giving my words no weight because they more resemble a whimper than the shout I want to throw at him.

“What do you find so interesting about him anyway?” He doesn’t really want me to answer. This is his anger talking; it appears as though his abusive action did nothing to help shock him from this haze of infuriation.

“What?” I ask anyhow, my hands now trembling. It’s impossible to say how long all of this has been playing twistedly on his mind, and it looks like he might be close to blowing his top once and for all.

Not a very encouraging thought, I’ll admit. Not while I’m in arms’ reach or when his quicker legs can catch up with mine easily. I don’t even dare to move anyway, afraid it might set him off again.

“Do you even know anything about him, Julia?”

“Yes,” I say, hurt and instantly offensive. Who the hell does Alex think he is talking to? He is supposed to consider me his friend, but the way he spits the words like he can’t even stand the sight of me points in a whole other direction.

“Yeah, right,” he laughs bitterly. “Only what he tells you.”

“Exactly what are you insinuating?” I demand, daring once more—a direct result of my temper flaring back up almost as quickly as his did.

My brief display of courage only amps Alex up even further; his fists clench and his eyes widen as if he can’t quite believe I would even consider standing up for myself.

Right now, in this moment, I feel proud for not setting back and taking it. I’m sure the feeling might fade later because, in all probability, talking back to a volatile possible junkie isn’t the sharpest idea ever, but for the time being I don’t regret it a single bit. I’m too angry. Alex’s expression twists until he is totally unrecognizable to me, his lip pulling back into a sneer while he looks at me like he believes I’m nothing but trash. If Caleb could see him now…

“He said something about me, didn’t he,” Alex accuses, suspicious to a paranoid degree while he points at me. My heart lurches almost painfully when he angrily heaves one foot forward, the action causing me to break my brave façade and stumble back a few feet at the same time. It’s like he isn’t even in this world, ignoring my fright and even what I said through my own anger, and it’s scary to think what he could be capable of when he is so out of his mind. I bet he wouldn’t even realize it if he did hurt me.

“What?” Now I’m more confused than ever and suddenly this confrontation feels so overwhelming. I fight the instinctual desire to flee, and my lip trembles fitfully with the effort. “What are you talking about?”

Me acting weird? This whole time Alex has treated me like crap, and now he has the never to place all the blame on me too. Today I stand up for myself—today I set things straight. Once and for all. So I ignore the fact that I can almost hear Alex grinding his teeth in frustration, and perhaps in an attempt not to lash out at me. The possibility is terrifying, but now I’m too furious to care.

While well aware I might be treading dangerous ground right now, I have no other choice. Other than my slight show of intimidation I manage to hold my ground… but that isn’t to say I don’t feel afraid—quite the opposite is true. When I’m scared, I tend to try and act tougher than I truly feel.

“Just… just don’t be so fucking naïve, Julia,” he barks after raking his fingers through his hair in agitation. He shoves past me, bumping my shoulder much like he did with Harry long ago and the force of it nearly sends me sprawling onto the floor. It’s a miracle I manage to right myself in time before tumbling all the way to the ground. He decides to leave without a sliver of an explanation, and that doesn’t work for me.

“Alex,” I all but shout, outraged, scared, and confused. There might even be a little desperation in my tone, desperate for the way things used to be even though I wouldn’t trade what I have in life now for the world. But he doesn’t turn around or even acknowledge me, stalking up the narrow stairway before his silhouette created by the dim passageway’s light disappears completely.

Sufficiently rattled, I try to connect Alex’s broken sentences and unjust claims in order to make some sense out of them. How he said it, about Harry… only what he tells you… it sounded like a warning. An ominous one at that. I don’t know if I should even take him seriously, his mental break painfully obvious, but now I have two warnings: one from a man who has totally flipped my life upside down for the better, and one from someone who ignited the wick to my brother’s downfall.

The one I should believe is obvious… but thanks to Alex, I’m left second guessing everything.

Notes

Damn. You get a taste everything in this chapter, I think. A little romance, some very unwelcome manhandling, and a whole lot of drama. Things are going to heat up in nearly every aspect in the next few chapters... so without giving too much away, I'm pretty sure you'll find them interesting :)

So! What do you think? Where do you believe this is headed? I welcome all thoughts, opinions, and any feedback you can think of. Thanks for reading, rating and commenting!