All Again

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN
BECCA

Now.

He loved to tell stories.
He loved memory lanes.
Combining those two, I knew that Harry was loving this.
As Harry sat across from me, finishing up his thought, it wasn't hard to see that he was loving this 're-hash'.
He was loving every bit of this awkward exchange.
His green eyes stay on me.
"...Looking back on it now, I'm shocked we even got to your house on time. But that was a really nice thing your parents did for you..." Harry finishes up across from me.
His shirt is pushed up his arms, showing some of his tattoos, and his sunglasses are still resting atop his head.
Despite our disposition, he looks so comfortable sitting across from me.
He seems, even if it is a fantasy, that he still enjoys my company.
He seems like maybe, he still likes talking to me.
As I look back at him, and his now unmoving face, he looks at me curiously.
He is waiting for a response.
I quickly clear my throat.
"Yeah," I say. "It was nice."
I shuffle in my seat, moving my eyes around the room.
I don't want to focus directly on him.
Harry's eyes have always been intense and as he stares at me, I feel uncomfortable.
I get the feeling he wants to talk; really talk, as if we're still best buddies.
As always a moment later, he doesn't disappoint.
"So...tell me..." he says suddenly. "What's new?"
"New?" I question. "What do you mean?"
"New." he emphasizes again. "In your life."
I shrug.
Everything is new, I want to say. There is not one piece of my previous life that has remained.
"Not much I guess." I say instead.
"No? You're still writing I see." he notes. "I like your column."
"You actually read it?" I ask in disbelief.
"I have a couple times. When I have time." he says casually. "I've been waiting on your book though."
He gives me a small smile, but I feel no tingles. That life seemed so long ago.
My column is as good as it's going to get and the reminder of old plans makes me a bit sad.
I'm not quite that ambitious anymore; and as I learned in the past, I can't really be.
Not as long as he's my ex.
I never even had a chance to be taken seriously.
As I remember those times, and my fluid attempts at creating a presence outside of our relationship, I try not to be bitter. I try not to get angry.
Still, it bothers me. I will forever be Becca Johnson; Harry Styles' ex.
I turn from him and pick at the skin around my nails.
"No." I say quietly. "Not going to happen."
"Why?" he asks. "You had some good ideas. Don't you want to write it?"
The whole conversation makes me tense.
"No." I say again, hoping he'll drop the subject.
He doesn't.
"Well why not? Your life can't be too much more than sitting at home catering to Chase. You're absolutely bored, I know. I know you have the time. Do that for yourself. Write your book."
I immediately roll my eyes.
"You know nothing about my life Harry." I say defensively.
"I know you're bored. I know you're living some fantasy that this is the life you wanted." he says back with assurance. "But what do you do all day; laundry? Gym visits? The occasional lunch with friends? How fun." he says sarcastically.
I roll my eyes again. It bothers me that he is right on the money.
That is the exact premise of my life right now.
I immediately cut my eyes at him.
"Well not everyone is you Harry. Not everyone gets to live their wildest dreams." I bite back.
He nods as if in agreement, then stands,
"Well you should try" he says finally, looking down at me. "You should do that for yourself. You always could have been anything you wanted Becca. You shouldn't waste your life on some man. You're way too talented for that."
I chuckle.
"You didn't seem to mind it when it was you."
His eyes wrinkle.
"And what the hell does that mean?"
"You know exactly what it means." I say standing as well. "You want a quick refresher?"
He rolls his eyes this time, then meets me dead on.
Round one- ding, ding.
"Coming to a fucking show is not the same thing Becca." he says lowly.
"I think it's exactly the same thing. The only difference is his job is 9-5, and yours...well...it's now to forever. I may not have been home cooking your meals at night, but you expected the exact same shit you accuse him of doing. You wanted me accessible."
"I never stifled you." he says quickly. "I always wanted you to do what you wanted to do. I gave us up more than once, so you could live your dream. Remember when you moved to New York-"
"Oh, you mean after you cheated on me-" I cut in and his eyes instantly grow cold.
That is a sore spot even after all this time. His little indiscretion in our first year, shaped a lot of what our relationship would become.
But,
I'm getting ahead of myself.
And it seems, he's not ready to get there either.
He sighs loudly and turns away from me, choosing not to take the bait.
The bomb is quickly defused and we go back to...what was the word he used...Civil.
Yeah...we're still trying for that.
"Look, I don't want to argue." he says softly. "Let's just get back to the Vegas stuff...Do you want anything else to drink?" he asks a second later.
I don't, but we need to move on from all the bad conversations- for now.
"Sure." I say behind him.
He moves away from me and my eyes raise as I watch him walk back towards the kitchen.
This time, I decide to follow him.
My eyes take in his small frame, and broad shoulders.
Despite the two years it has been since i've seen him, he hasn't changed much.
There are a few more tattoos, and a little more scruff where the faint hints of a beard are shadowed, but he is still the man I fell in love with.
He is still much taller than me, and as he walks in the kitchen, I can't ignore the way he commands the room.
My eyes don't move off of him, and even a spell couldn't get me to turn away.
He is still mesmerizing.
"Full glass or half?" he asks as he reaches my old cup that is still on the counter.
"Half." I say taking a seat on the stool.
He moves to the refrigerator, and the hint of his cologne remains among us.
I close my eyes briefly inhaling the familiar scent and for a moment, it is like I am home.
As my eyes re-open, I see a moment from the past.
He was there, and I was here.
He was cooking and I was working.
Home from one of his promotional tours, I can see everything as if it is that day.
As Harry turns back to me, with the pitcher of juice in his hand, our eyes lock.
For a moment, there is nothing.
He doesn't move and I don't either.
For a moment, he is lost in his thoughts and I am lost in mine, yet there seems to be a centralized thought- what the hell happened to us?
What the hell are we doing here?
How did we let it get this bad?
As he reaches for my cup to pour my juice, I still don't stop looking at him; I can't.
He pours my favorite juice that he has made, and studies the liquid as if it is his first time seeing it. His few rings clink against the glass, piercing the silence.
"God, I hate this." he says, keeping his attention on the cup for a second more.
I don't say a word as he brings his eyes back up to mine.
"I really fucking hate this." he says to me directly.
His eyes are large crystal balls, and it is not hard to see what he means, but I instantly play the dumb role, needing to hear him say it.
"Hate what?"
"This." he says gesturing between us. "Us."
He takes a step towards me.
"I hate that I can't even talk to you now without it being a damn argument."
"We're not arguing right now." I remind him.
"It's only a matter of time I'm sure," he grumbles. A free hand runs through his hair and I just continue to study him.
I reach for the juice he has poured for me and the tart taste of the cranberries hits my tongue.
"Yeah." is all I can say. "It sucks." I says low.
He looks down at me. The sincerity in his eyes, reminding me of a green eyed puppy dog.
For a couple moments, he doesn't say anything more, and neither do I.
We just still there- in silence.
Somewhere in an alternative world, other events are happening here.
He is feeding me.
We are laughing.
I am being chased around the house, while my laugh coats the walls.
He is making love to me in our bed. The tips of his fingers, caressing my skin.
We are happy.
We are in love.
We are still one.
"Becca can we-"
"Harry, maybe I sho-"
We both pause, this time in the present.
Whatever thoughts we were having, quickly come together, mirroring the past.
Instantly we both stop, ready to hear what the other has to say.
As our eyes reconnect, he smiles.
The small dimpled smirk that use to get me weak looks back at me.
"Yeah?" he asks.
I shrug off my thought. I want to hear what he has to say more.
"You first."
He doesn't go- not immediately-
He takes another step towards me.
His eyes never leave mine, and for a moment, I want him to take me right there.
For a moment, I want him to be the old Harry and I be the old Becca.
I want him to scoop me on this counter and kiss me roughly like he used to do.
I want to remember- if even for a second - what it's like to be his again.
"I was saying-" he begins, his voice just a notch above a whisper. "Becca can we-"
Yes.
Yes we can.
Whatever you want, I am yours.
He doesn't get to finish his thoughts because a loud vibration interrupts us.
I feel myself jump at the sudden noise and I slightly back up, but my eyes stay on Harry. And his, stay on me.
The vibration is loud but far away and it continues.
Neither one of us moves.
The air around us is thick and the phone is the only intrusion.
Finally I see him, and he sees me.
His green irises speak words that my hazel ones have been anxious to see, but can't consume because the buzz of the phone triggers my OCD.
"I think it's yours," I say after the fifth, LOUD, vibration.
"Maybe." he says, but he doesn't move to answer it. His eyes stay on me, speaking.
The words are on the tip of his tongue.
My eyes plead for it to spill out, but the phone vibrates again.
And again.
Then I know it is mine.
I have an extended ringer.
My eyes move away from Harry, and glance at the clock behind him. It is after 1pm.
My feet make the realization before my mind does.
I break away from Harry and his sudden disappointed glance and rush to my phone.
As I estimated, it is Chase checking in at his usual time.
"Hello?" I ask quickly connecting the phone to my ear. It feels cold and out of place from the temporary heat the room was building.
My voice is foreign as well and sounds rushed.
"Hey baby." Chase says on the other end. "What are you doing?"
I turn to Harry, who is no longer looking at me.
He runs a hand through his hair and turns his head completely from me.
"Uh...the usual." I say.
"Yeah? Did you get the laundry done?"
His voice has a lightness, and I know the idea is funny to him. However, for me, it is a reminder of Harry's words a couple minutes earlier.
Jeez, is that what the highlight of my day has become? Am I that predictable?
"Uh...yeah. It's done."
"Cool. I miss you today. I was thinking, you want to meet me for lunch?"
"Lunch?" I ask.
"Yeah I know you probably ate, but why not?"
I stall. I look at Harry again. His eyes are back on me studying.
"Um...you want me to meet you for lunch?" I repeat, internalizing the words.
"Uh...yeah..." Chase says a bit impatiently. I can tell he doesn't understand the disconnect between his words and my comprehension.
"You got the column done right?" he asks suddenly.
Shit.
I still haven't finished it and now I have missed my deadline.
My eyes remain on Harry. He is the reason.
He is already affecting my life and it has only been a few days. A hand goes to my head.
I feel a headache coming on.
"No," I say into the phone. "I've been really tired." I say. "How's work?"
"Lot going on. Do you remember that client-"
Harry turns. Face and body.
In the kitchen, he moves back to the fridge, placing the pitcher back.
He reaches for a new water bottle.
The cap hits the counter loudly and his movements project sudden anger.
What does he hate now?
I watch him as he chugs the water in one large gulp and then tosses it roughly into the sink.
He tosses his sunglasses next. They hit the counter with a loud ping
What is his problem?
My eyes don't move off of Harry, even as Chase continues in my ear.
I'm confused.
What have I missed?
As there is a pause in the call, I realize Chase is waiting on me to respond to something.
I don't have an answer.
"Hey babe-" I begin but Harry's sudden rough tone stops me.
"Fuck this." I hear him say to himself.
Again, what is wrong with him?
"What's the fucking point?" I hear him grunt.
He doesn't say it loudly, and I barely hear it- but I do.
I can hear that accent anywhere.
I want to call to him but Chase doesn't need to know I am with him. That would just be a new headache.
No.
I need to end this call.
As I begin my new sentence, Harry turns to me briefly and then leaves the room altogether.
He doesn't look at me long enough for me to read the look.
He heads to our old bedroom.
"Are you okay?" Chase asks in my ear, interrupting. "You seem off? Distracted?"
I almost laugh at the irony. Once again, another statement echoed by Harry coming to life.
He had used that exact phrase at our dinner.
"I'm just super tired." I remind him. "Can I call you later, and skip lunch this time?" I ask.
"Of course. I love you. I'll see you tonight." he says.
"I love you too." I say and end the call before he can say anything more.
I toss my phone on the couch and head towards where Harry disappeared.
Something is suddenly wrong with him and I'm curious what I missed.
As I walk the long hallway to our bedroom, I see a picture of us.
It was taken by Lou Teasdale.
It is a picture of me and Harry before he headed to stage during one of his stops on the On The Road Again tour.
Our hands aren't interlinked and we're not kissing, but the expressions are what made the picture.
There was so much love in everything; our hands, our eyes, and the way our bodies already started to mold naturally towards each other at all times.
A finger reaches up to touch the picture as if I can still feel it.
My finger touches the picture remembering. I begin to reminisce when I hear something slam.
I'm quickly reminded of what i'm doing and head to the bedroom.
I am immediately stalled at the image in front of me.
Harry is naked.
Well, half naked.
His lone figure stands in the center of the room, in just tight boxer briefs.
My eyes take in every inch of him quickly and my breath hitches.
Fuck.
He is turned from me.
I watch him for a moment, as he shuffles a pair of gym shorts in his hand.
Then I realize I must be intruding.
I quickly clear my throat to alert him to my presence but he doesn't even flinch.
Looking at his muscles on his back, I clear my throat again and he sighs.
"I know you're standing right there. You can stop doing that shit."
I don't respond as I move into the room. I try to keep my eyes centralized on him and not see the memories that smack me in the face.
I try to ignore the way the room still resembles two years earlier.
I see my old sheets and comforter.
My candle is in the corner and our pictures...they are just above me staring back at me.
A lump catches in my throat and I force it down.
"Do you need me to leave? Give you some privacy?"
"Nope." he says. "Nothing you haven't seen before."
He turns to me.
His green eyes have lost all the warmth from a moment earlier.
"Are you leaving now?" he questions.
I shake my head no.
For a second his eyebrows crease in confusion.
"That was Chase right?" he questions.
"Yeah."
And then my eyes trail down. I can't help but look at the ink peppering his chest.
Man oh man, how I use to ran my hands over that lovely chest.
Hello sparrows.
Hello 17BLACK.
Hello laurels.
I force my eyes back up.
I need to stay focused.
"Why are you undressed?" I ask.
"I thought you were leaving." he says low, turning back to his shorts.
"Why? I didn't say I was."
"Yeah, but I heard him." he says as if that sums up everything.
"And what's that mean? He calls, I run?"
"Yeah. Something like that." he says with a sigh and sits down on the bed.
He looks down at his feet and I continue to study him.
Something is different.
His tone and overall patience seems to have changed.
"Do you want me to leave?" I ask, hoping he'll say no.
He shrugs.
"Wouldn't be the first time." he mumbles.
I ignore his subtle dig.
"Well i'm not." I say, hoping it'll get him to smile. "I'm committed to this right now."
I'm still committed to you.
His eyes rise slowly and look back at me.
There is something definitely wrong.
My favorite eyes are clouded and as he looks at me, he looks through me.
That warmth that spread through me minutes earlier has dissipated.
I take another careful step towards him.
"What's wrong?" I finally ask.
"Nothing."
"I know you better than that," I say with a small smile. "What did I miss?"'
He rolls his eyes and looks away from me.
And then I make the realization.
I must have did it.
Whatever happened when I took that call has pissed him off.
He's not mad at something, it is me.
"What did I do?" I ask quickly. "Why are you mad at me?"
"Nothing. You're absolutely perfect Becca. As always." he says. His voice is coated with sarcasm.
I take another step toward him in the large room, and he shifts, resting his hands behind him on the bed.
If this was the old days, that would be a perfect invitation to sit on him. I would wrap my legs around him, and place my arms around his neck. He would smile at me.
"What did I do?" I repeat. "Why are you pissed at me?"
I take more steps until I am finally in front of him.
He doesn't face me. His eyes stay ahead, ignoring me.
"Harry?" I call but it falls on deaf ears.
I continue to look at him and he continues to ignore me.
It's fine.
I welcome the distraction.
For a second, I just stare.
Those chiseled features.
Those eyes.
Those lips.
That still fucking perfect hair.
The smooth tan skin.
He is still the sexiest man I have ever seen.
He still gives me all the damn feels.
So I just stare.
I wait a few seconds to see if he will do anything.
Cuss me out, roll his eyes, even flinch; but he doesn't move.
He's really pissed.
I still remember the weight of his silent treatments and I don't want to see them ever again.
"Harry." I call again after I can't stand it anymore. "Will you at least look at me?"
His eyes move back to me slowly.
They cut into me like a professional 8 inch chef knife.
"What?" he demands.
Inner Becca recoils.
"What is it?" I ask. "What's with this shitty attitude?"
He rolls his eyes again.
"Whatever it is, you're being very silly." I scold. "What are you even pissed about?"
"You." he says surprising me with an answer.
"Me?" I question.
"Yes you." he says keeping the contact. "I'm pissed at you."
"Great, a real answer! Now what did I do?" I ask. I keep my tone light.
He pushes off his hands and stands. Within seconds, he is back in command.
I look up at him. For a second, I'm worried what I might have started.
Moving past me, he goes to our old shared dresser.
"Why don't you just leave?" he asks. "Go... be with Chase. He obviously needs you."
"Because i'm talking to you. I thought you wanted to resolve this?"
"Resolve what?" he says quickly. "You don't even care Becca. It's been years, and you've been going on with your perfect little life."
I sit on the bed, as he begins his spill.
"You don't even care. You fucking did this. All of this." he gestures to the room. "You ruined our lives, and look at you- you're just sitting there. Completely unaffected."
This time I roll my eyes.
Round Two.
"Oh here he goes, must be blame Becca time." I say turning from him.
"Do you even think about it? All that we lost?"
"Of course I do." I say in my defense, but it is lost. He keeps pounding into me, all of his anger finally spilling out.
"No you fucking don't. You haven't called. I haven't seen you. You've cut off everybody we shared. You shouted a big 'fuck you' and just left. After our three years, I deserved more than that."
I dramatically roll my eyes again.
What. The Fuck. Ever.
Time to tune him out.
I shuffle a quick playlist in my mind.
What can I listen too? What can I use to ignore him?
"Look at you." he says. "And you're still doing the shit-"
Britney?
Alanis Morisette?
Rihanna?
"Fuck!" he shouts. "Fucking fool's gold."
I find the song and hum to myself. I turn completely away from him.
"Are you even listening to me? God you're such a bitch sometimes."
My eyes immediately raise. That is the line he crossed.
"Don't call me a bitch-" I warn standing.
My nails sharpen.
"But you are to me. All the time. Look at how you treat me. Why don't you ever just say what you want to say? Why do you have to be so goddamn childish?"
"That's it!" I say. That's more insults than I can swallow.
I throw in the towel, and try to move past him but he blocks my path.
"No you're going to listen," he says. "I should have said this shit three years ago."
Finally I snap.
"It doesn't even matter Harry! We're not even together anymore! Stop wasting my goddamn time!"
"And whose fault is that!! Whose fault is it we're here?"
"Oh i'm sure it's mine. I'm sure everything is my fault." I say with deep sarcasm. "It's always me. Everything. I'm always the one who ruined everything, like I was the only goddamn person in this relationship! You weren't even here half the time! Stop blaming me for your shit!"
He turns from me, shaking his head in disagreement.
"You are every bit as responsible as I am." I continue. I throw my hands up. "But why does it even matter? Why am I even here?" I say more to myself than him. "You're getting married. Your fucking date is set. So go be with her. Go marry your dumb blonde."
"Don't bring her up-"
"Don't bring up your wife? The fucking pampered princess that is wearing my ring. The one you love so much? The one you haven't even known a year, but you're engaged too? The one who gets you in the end? Don't bring her up?" I question. "But why? She's your everything." I say in deep resentment.
Now he snaps.
Round Three.
"Yes! Stop talking to me about Julie! I'm not talking about her, or even your fucked up boyfriend. This is about us."
"THERE IS NO US HARRY!" I scream and I'm sure I'm heard even down the street. "Do you even understand you're engaged?"
"BUT I STILL WANT YOU! Can't you understand that?" he shouts back at me, and I go quiet.
Time stops.
The air sucks out of the room and I forget how to breathe for a second.
Somewhere, nails screech on a blackboard.
A baby cries.
A car slams into another.
Somewhere someone's whole world just changed. Mine has just changed in this room.
"What did you say?" I question.
His eyes that were still on me, turn.
He moves past me, taking another seat on the bed. The bed squeaks with his weight.
My eyes don't move off of him.
He grabs his pants off the bed, and shuffles them on.
He sees me, engaged and fallen at his feet, but he still takes his good and sweet time answering me.
It's torture.
I need to hear it again. He couldn't have said what I thought.
"Harry, what did you say?" I ask again.
And then he looks back at me.
Beautiful self-assured green on wrecked confused hazel.
"I said, I want you."

Notes

Hope you guys liked the updates...sorry for teh delay