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“You’re not serious,” Kit proclaimed, instantly regretting allowing Harry access to the remote control. She wrinkled her nose as she saw Ryan Gosling and Rachel McAdams’ faces pop up on the Netflix menu. Romantic comedies were far from her favourite genre, and the Notebook was easily near the top of her list of least favourite movies of all time. Not to mention, she couldn’t imagine anything more uncomfortable than watching love scenes with the man who starred in her own internal love scenes.

“What?” Harry asked, looking at Kit with a wounded look on his face. He adored the Notebook and wasn’t afraid to admit it, but selfishly, he hoped watching the movie with Kit would set the mood and he could covertly make an innocent move on her.

Kit let out an incredulous snicker. “It’s a fucking terrible movie!” she told him, laughing to soften the insult but speaking seriously. “Pretty sure it’s one of the worst movies ever made. In history,” she added for emphasis. “And that Noah putz is a real dickwad,” she informed Harry.

The irony that the girlfriend of Kevin was calling Noah Calhoun a dickwad wasn’t lost on Harry, but he didn’t bite. Instead, he smirked at Kit, reaching over and poking her with the remote before dropping onto her lap, leaving the movie decision up to her. He didn’t care what they watched. He was just happy Kit had accepted when Harry suggested they watch a flick after they’d finished their tea. Again, he’d been prepared for rejected, prepared for her to tell him her boyfriend would be coming by soon. But, somewhat suspiciously, Kevin’s name had hardly been on Kit’s lips the entire afternoon. As much as he didn’t want Kit to hurt, he prayed they were having troubles and Kevin would be out of the picture soon.

“Why’s that?” Harry asked with a laugh, curious as to what the character did to put himself in Kit’s bad books.

Kit glanced sideways at Harry, clicking the remote control through the letters, searching for the movie of her choice. “Well,” she began, her tone matter-of-fact as she prepared to dive into her list of reasons. “First of all, he hangs from that bloody Ferris wheel and forces the dumb girl to go out with him. Then he builds that stupid house after how many years? Kind of psycho-stalker if you ask me! Plus… he loves her too much and… no one in the world ever loves someone else that much. Completely unrealistic,” she told Harry, the lines between her words saying no one in the world could ever love me that much.

Her comment hung in the air, surprising Harry. Her other points had merit – he thought the Ferris wheel scene was rather idiotic, too – but to hear her think that no one in the world could love someone as much as the two kids in the movie had loved one another broke his heart. Didn’t she think that she could be capable of loving someone that much, or having someone love her that much? He knew she could, and wondered… could he?

“You’re rather passionate about your hatred, aren’t you?” Harry asked teasingly, wishing Kit was sitting closer to him so he could teasingly touch her again. But she had settled herself in the corner of the couch, tightly curled up, and Harry had taken the seat near the middle of the couch, as close to Kit as he could be without being obvious.

“Well!” Kit scoffed haughtily, settling on a movie. “It’s just terrible!”

“Speaking of terrible!” Harry exclaimed, gesturing to the television. “This is better than the Notebook? Come on!” He teased Kit, shaking his head at her.

“Uhm… 2012 is actually an awesome movie…” Kit informed Harry, not waiting for his reply as she hit play. “And Woody Harrelson is lovely.”

“I can’t argue that,” Harry agreed, propping his feet on top of Kit’s coffee table, knowing she wouldn’t care. “But, come on! It’s got absolutely nothing to do with science! I mean, the amount of heat needed to heat up the inner core of the earth… It’s just absurd!”

“Hmm…” Kit hummed, rolling her eyes at Harry as she slid her body into a more horizontal position, head resting against the arm of the couch. His overreaction over her movie choice was quite adorable. “And where did you get your Science degree, Doctor?” She quipped teasingly, stretching her leg out and gently poking his thigh with her foot. Touching him again, even gently with her toe, awoke a flock of butterflies in her stomach. She wondered if he felt them, too.

“Google, mostly,” Harry gibed back, grabbing Kit’s foot in a knee-jerk reaction. If she was going to initiate touching, he wasn’t going to ignore it. He held her small foot in her hand, unsure how to move his hand. He felt as though he had a kitten on his lap, and any sudden movement would make the animal bolt. He didn’t want Kit to bolt. His stomach tumbled as he gently held her, shyly avoiding her eyes.

Kit giggled at his response, shifting her position further down the couch, ensuring her kept her foot against Harry’s lap. She tried to ignore the guilty feeling encompassing her mind, not wanting to think about how she would feel if some girl had her feet tucked against Kevin’s lap. The line between friendship and more was becoming blurrier each time Kit saw Harry. She had told herself she could handle it, if it ever became anything to handle, but now she wasn’t so sure if she could. Still, she made no effort to separate herself from Harry.

“What are these, anyway?” Harry asked, using his question as an excuse to run his hands along Kit’s socked feet, tugging playfully on the plastic appliqued to the bottom of the sock. “They look like grandpa socks,” he added, brazenly rubbing his thumb across the top of Kit’s foot. He adored the closeness, delighted that she initiated it. He only hoped he didn’t enjoy it too much. Given the close proximity of her foot, Kit would quickly discover if Harry gave her a full salute and would likely disengage the closeness. He let out a quiet sigh, trying to picture his grandmother in a bikini. Though with his hands still touching Kit, she was the one he found himself picturing in a revealing garment, not his grandmother.

“Grandma,” Kit corrected with a cheeky grin, the butterflies in her stomach almost nauseating her as Harry’s strong hands pressed against her foot, ticking around her ankle. She found herself wanting to touch him back, to hold his hand or rest her head against his shoulder. For a brief moment, she wondered how bad it would be. If she cuddled with Harry, or held his hand, or allowed him to place his hands on her, would it be cheating? Would it be allowed? Kevin had cheated on her – didn’t that mean she could have one free pass and kiss Harry? Female friends held hands all of the time – couldn’t she with Harry? But it was different, and she knew it was different. Still, she wished it wasn’t.

“My grandma got these socks when she broke her hip,” Kit continued, reaching down to tug the oversized socks up and allowing her hand to lightly graze Harry’s. Why was she doing this to herself? “They, uhm… the hospital made her wear them. So she wouldn’t slip and fall. So now I won’t slip and fall,” Kit added, snickering shortly at herself.

Harry’s breath caught in his throat when Kit’s hand touched his. Was it intentional, or was it merely an accident? What was she telling him to do? She already had her feet on his lap, was hand-holding next? What would she do if he tried to hold her hand? His mind was racing at the thought of getting even closer to Kit. While on one hand, he didn’t want Kit to feel bad about betraying Kevin, on the other hand, he wanted her to betray him so Harry could reap the benefits of said betrayal and be the winner. Kevin was a loser and deserved to be a loser in every sense of the word. He didn’t deserve Kit. Harry wasn’t even sure if he deserved Kit, but knew he would try every single day to make it her best day ever. She just had to let him.

“Well… you are rather clumsy, so… it’s probably a good idea,” Harry teased, hoping his teasing comment would warrant another light kick or poke from Kit. “I won’t always be there to rescue you from tree stumps, you know,” he added, his comment quietly wistful as he remembered the night back in December, and wishing he’d kissed Kit then like he wanted to. Maybe she would have been his by now if he hadn’t been such a coward.

“I wish you were,” Kit admitted softly, her voice so low Harry almost didn’t hear her. But as she was saying the same thing he was thinking, he knew. He met her eyes for a moment, his heart swelling when she smiled at him. It took all of his strength to remain seated and not jump across the couch to smother Kit’s adorable face in kisses. Instead, he smiled back at her and, when Kit broke eye contact, he continued to gently run his hand against her foot. He didn’t know what they were doing, but he didn’t want it to stop.

~*~*~*~

As the movie continued, and John Cusack sped through a collapsing Los Angeles in a limo, Harry and Kit’s positions slowly changed. He wasn’t sure if it was her, and she wasn’t sure if it was him, but by the time the group in the movie arrived in China, Kit and Harry found themselves both settled in the middle of the sofa, bodies touching. She was still on her side, knees bent, but given their closeness, her long legs resembled a seat belt across Harry’s lap. Her bottom was nearly touching his side and he had his arm resting across Kit’s hip, fingertips grazing her thigh. Neither one of them spoke, and neither one of them looked at the other. They both knew their positioning wasn’t commonplace for people who were just friends, but neither one of them wanted to move.

“So they can just drive the car out, like they’re leaving a car park?” Harry asked with a sigh. He was surprised he was paying a modicum of attention to the awful movie, considering the cute girl draped over him, but, like a car accident, the movie was impossible to look away from. “And what’s with John Cusack’s face? He looks as though he’s got a permanently stuffed nose. He’s not very good,” he added, his voice unintentionally sounding haughty.

Kit laughed loudly at Harry’s arrogance. “Okay, Al Pacino,” she teased him, lightly swatting at his bicep and trying not to focus on the firmness of the muscle. “How many Oscars did you get for This Is Us?” she asked him, stretching her hands apart as though to allude to a marquee.

Harry snickered at Kit’s comment, glancing down at her. She was beaming at her own joke, and while it was a dig on him, Kit’s grin made Harry not even care. “Shut up,” he told her good-naturedly, tickling the inside of her knee. With an adorable squeal, Kit reflexively extended her leg and gave Harry another swat.

“Don’t, I’m so ticklish!” She whined, laughter behind her voice. She knew that by telling Harry she was ticklish, he would only tickle her more. The unsettling part was, she wanted him to.

“Is that so?” Harry pondered, a slow grin creeping onto his face. Unashamed, he knew it was the most childish form of flirting ever, but if it meant he could touch Kit and keep her laughing, he didn’t care how immature he seemed. He tapped his fingers up Kit’s calf, laughing as she squirmed in anticipation below him.

“Don’t!” Kit exclaimed, her laughter overthrowing her demand. She felt Harry’s fingers along her leg, inching closer to the tender spot behind her knee. Instinctively, she stiffened her body as he teased the tendons, squeezing her eyes shut as she laughed.

“Harry!” she choked out between giggles. “Sto-oo-op!” She reached out, grabbing his tickling hand in an attempt to cease his actions. He stopped as soon as she took his hand, both of them realising she’d intuitively laced her fingers through his. Though the tickling had stopped, she made no motion to release his hand.

“You’re such a bugger,” she told him after a moment, her heart pounding with such force, she was certain Harry could hear it. His hand felt warm against his, though she couldn’t tell if it was his or hers that was so clammy.

“Maybe just a bit,” Harry agreed, allowing his fingers to gently squeeze against Kit’s hand.

“Just a bit…” Kit echoed, letting the words fade against the air, neither of them knowing what else to say. They could talk about why they were laying on the couch against each other, hands interlocked, while she had a boyfriend and they were supposed to be just friends, but speaking of the elephant in the room would only make them feel as though they had to separate and continue the charade of being just friends.

As the overacted, CGI scenes continued to play in front of them, Harry and Kit remained joined, their connection almost casual by this point, as though it was something they’d been doing for years. Though he adored being interlocked with Kit, Harry had to let out a sigh, shifting uncomfortably. “I’ll be right back,” he told Kit, letting his hands linger against Kit’s legs as he lifted them, allowing himself to stand up, though not wanting to. But he’d put off using the washroom for as long as he possibly could, the discomfort of a full bladder worth it to be close to Kit. He disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Kit on the couch and wondering if she would still be lying in the middle when he returned.

Kit watched Harry walk away before rolling onto her back and covering her face with her hands. She was in deep. Way too deep. She realised Kevin hadn’t been on her mind during her cuddle-fest with Harry, and that made her feel even guiltier than before. Now, she wasn’t just not acknowledging his feelings, but she wasn’t acknowledging him at all. Given her blatant disregard for her current relationship, she didn’t know why Harry would want to have anything to do with her. She was becoming as bad as Kevin.

Pulling herself into a seated position, Kit crossed her legs Buddha-style and rested her elbows on her knees, chin in her hands. She wished she was good enough to deserve someone like Harry – the decision would be easy if she was. But while Harry wanted to touch her and kiss her now, it wouldn’t take him long to realise she was nothing but an annoying brat, a nuisance and the ugly duckling. She was small-town, inexperienced and juvenile. Kit wasn’t the kind of girl Harry would want to have on his arm during the red carpet. He would be the laughing-stock of the industry if he showed up in a Gucci suit with a scrawny nobody, with stringy hair and buggy eyes. It broke her heart, thinking of how undeserving she was of the one person she wanted most.

When he came out of the bathroom, Harry’s heart sank when he saw Kit had straightened up, putting an end to their intimate moment. He’d expected it, though. The moment was becoming too much, and opening the door for even more. While he was willing to do anything Kit wanted to do, he knew she wouldn’t let their moment extend any further than it had. She was such a good person – better than Harry, who was more than happy to aide in Kit cheating on Kevin.

Harry smiled at Kit as he sat down, being sure to settle close beside her as before, despite her new position. He didn’t know what to say to her so instead, he let his actions do the talking and rested his hand against the top of her knee – hoping Kit wouldn’t push him away.

“So, how many Oscars did this flick win anyway?” Harry wondered teasingly, giving Kit’s leg a gentle squeeze. He wanted to get the moment back. Whether or not he could would be determined.

“Not as many as the Notebook, clearly,” Kit quipped back, her stomach tumbling at Harry’s touch. She knew she should move away from him, settle herself on the far side of the sofa again and pay attention to the movie, not him. But she didn’t think she was physically capable of being away from Harry, and his touch was so gentle, so lovely, she was completely strung out and insatiable.

“Clearly…” Harry echoed, letting out a throaty chuckle as he traced his fingers along the patterned texture of Kit’s leggings. He wished he could touch her bare legs, but he was already having a difficult enough time keeping his lewd thoughts at bay, touching her naked thigh wouldn’t help. “I think I could get you to like the Notebook,” he added, gesturing to the television. “Don’t tell me you’d rather watch this fat Russian man than Ryan Gosling,” Harry teased, wondering if Kit would find the blonde Canadian better looking than himself, and instantly feeling embarrassingly jealous.

“I don’t like the Notebook because it’s bloody awful, not because of who’s in it,” Kit reiterated to Harry, his dancing fingers sending sparks throughout her body. “Ryan Gosling’s hot, and he’s a good actor… but even that’s not enough to make the movie tolerable.”

“But why?” Harry pressed, his insistence on Kit liking the Notebook having more to do with her own ability to love and be loved, and nothing to do with her actual opinion on the movie. He had to know why she didn’t think it was possible for someone to think she hung the moon, and then do everything in his power to show her that she actually did.

Kit laughed, eyeing Harry dumbfoundedly. “What do you care so much for?” she asked him. “You get some kind of commission on this movie or what?”

“I should look into that, shouldn’t I?” Harry mused, nudging his shoulder against Kit’s. “Probably make a real killing. I can be pretty persuasive,” he added, giving Kit’s knee another squeeze, as though to insinuate that his persuasiveness meant more than just getting people to watch movies.

“But I can be pretty stubborn, though,” Kit answered truthfully, knowing Harry’s comment about persuasiveness had nothing to do with the Notebook. She watched his hand flit across her leg, concurrently wishing he would stop and hoping he never would. “You might just be wasting your time…”

Harry’s hand stopped moving. He looked at Kit, who felt his gaze and met his eyes. Her stare was so wide, so timid, as though she’d opened the doors to her soul and was hesitantly letting Harry in. She took his breath away.

“Nothing is a waste of time… with you…” Harry assured Kit, lifting his hand from her leg and allowing his fingers to weave through her hair. Physically, he felt pained being this close to her and not feeling her soft lips against his. He was so close, and she hadn’t looked away from him. His focus darted back and forth between her big eyes and delicate lips. It would be so easy to kiss her, but he knew he had to leave it up to Kit. She was the one with the conscience, not him.

“Harry…” Kit’s voice was breathless, a quiet tone.

“Yeah?”

Kit dropped her head for a moment, collecting her thoughts. She knew what she wanted to say to Harry, but knew there was no going back once she conveyed her emotions to him. She looked up again, locking eyes with Harry and exhaling quietly. “I want to kiss you,” she told him, her voice a nearly inaudible whisper. Her stomach somersaulted as she spoke the words, but she realised after a moment the feeling wasn’t caused by the guilt of her words, but the anticipation of what could be next.

Harry felt an internal surge at Kit’s words. It took all of his strength to refrain from doing what she said she wanted to do, what he’d wanted to do with since he first started to look at girls as girls. He let his fingers brush against her neck through her hair, silently willing her closer to him. “So kiss me,” he told her, his voice husky. God, please just do it, he silently prayed, his body tingling ferociously.

The internal battle between the devil and angel on Kit’s shoulders was excruciating. She wanted nothing more than to kiss Harry, to feel his warm lips against hers and finally taste his sweet mouth after so many years of yearning for it. She knew Kevin would never know, but she would know. Kit also knew that once she started kissing Harry, she wouldn’t ever stop. “You know I can’t…” Kit whispered, silently begging Harry to ignore her and kiss her himself. I won’t push you away, I promise, she thought, willing him to hear her message.

“You can…” Harry whispered back, feeling tremendously guilty that he was forcing Kit to do something she was clearly struggling with. He wished he could understand why she had such an allegiance to someone like Kevin, when he didn’t have the same loyalty to her. “Kit… you can…” Harry urged her, a pleading tone in his quiet voice. “Kiss me,” he repeated, feeling his heart drop as Kit broke eye contact, her head drooping.

“I’m sorry,” she told him, wanting to smack herself for letting the situation get as out of control as it had. At first, she was only worried about hurting Kevin. Now, she could tell she’d hurt Harry as well, which pained her more than she ever thought possible.

Harry pressed his lips gently against the crown of Kit’s head, the closest he would be getting to kissing her. “You have absolutely nothing to be sorry about,” he assured her, tipping her head up, forcing her to look at him again. “Got that?” He asked her. “Don’t ever apologise for being a good person, Kit-Kat,” he added, absentmindedly wondering why he was consoling the girl who was breaking his heart.

Notes