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All Again

Chapter Fifty Five

CHAPTER FIFTY- FIVE
JULIE

NOW

I can remember the day I realized she wasn’t going anywhere.
Becca Penelope Johnson.
The eventual thorn in my side and the ex who for whatever reason, just wouldn't disappear.
Her memory was a stupid forever looming presence and though she and Harry were no longer physically together, emotionally, she still had his heart.
She still had his mind and the power to get to him; even when he continued dating me.

"Take your shirt off." he whispered.
Harry's hands were all over me, flushing my skin and warming it one spring afternoon.
We were in London and warming his chilly house with our own heat.
I followed his instructions and tossed my shirt on the floor.
His lips were on my neck, and his hands were moved to my hips.
"I've needed this." He said. "Your shoots run way too long."
I giggled. "Well you're not exactly Mr. Available all the time either.”
“That’s because I’m working.” He argued and I just smiled.
We had been dating 'officially' for three months, but our time together was equivalent to a month.
Texts and flirty chats were the premises of our relationship.
Oh and sex.
Lots of it.
He smiled and unbuttoned my pants.
His warm hands entered my pants from the back, cupping my butt.
His lips brushed my skin.
"Did you bring any extra condoms with you?" he asked. "I think we used them all last night."
I broke away and stared into his green eyes.
They were the most perfect hue, and it wasn't hard to get lost in them.
Though right now, I was ready to get lost into something else.
Though partially sore from the night before, I couldn't wait to have him inside of me again.
"I don't." I admitted. "I'm on birth control though. We should be fine." I assumed.
He kissed my lips gently, but tapped my thighs to get up. "Yeah...I don't have sex without condoms though," he said softly. "Let me see if I can find one instead."
I moved off of him and sat back on the couch.
One hand went to my hair and the other fanned my face, cooling myself down.
I was extremely turned on and the small kisses we had been sharing had quickly escalated in the last few minutes.
As usual.
Harry stood, looking down at me with a wide dimple.
That mischievous cheeky look of his he had been wearing for the last hour.
"You alright over there?"
"No." I said. "Every time I see you, you get me caught up."
He smirked, placing his hands in his jeans. "There's nothing wrong with having sex with your boyfriend." He pointed out.
"There's something wrong if that's all we do."
He smiled and leaned over me.
His expression remained playful.
My hands roped around his neck.
"The sex is worth it though right?"
I smiled. "It is. Always."
He kissed my forehead and stood.
"Let's take a break then. We'll do the sex thing later I'm sure. You hungry?" he asked.
"Actually yeah."
I stood and followed him as he led us to the kitchen.
He opened his fridge while I sat on one of the stools at the bar counter.
"What are you in the mood for?"
"I don't know. Surprise me." I said.
"Alright." He said.
He shifted things in the fridge while I surveyed his kitchen.
This was my first time at his London home and though I had arrived yesterday, I hadn't spent too much time taking in the details.
"I really like the colors." I said looking at the warm hues of greens and browns and the large portraits he had purchased that lined the walls. It was evident this was a man's place and his touches were everywhere.
"Thanks." He said. "Alright...here's the options."
He quickly worked through my food choices and I listened while still looking around.
I kept it simple.
"Soup and Grilled Cheese sounds good." I said.
He shut his fridge and smiled. "Coming right up princess."
I smiled and stood, loving the personalized girly nickname, and moved to a large painting in the room. It appeared to be the scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz movies. It was one of many.
"I like your pieces." I said scanning the large canvases that made up his living room and dining room area. "Have you had them long?"
"A few." he said starting the process of the food from the kitchen. He could see me, and I could still see him, but while he was focused on the food, I was focused on his house.
The little pieces that made up this perplexing man were finally here spread out in front of me.
He started talking, making small talk, but my eyes still traveled around until eventually a batch of personal pictures from the living room pulled my attention.
Moving to that area in the room, I surveyed the portraits.
Pictures of Harry as a baby, as a child, as a man...
I saw friends, family, celebrities, and one that stood out from the rest.
I picked up the 5 by 7 inch frame. It was located in the back, almost hidden behind the others.
"Which cheese do you like?" Harry called. "American or Swiss?"
"Swiss sounds good." I said not turning around.
My hands traced the picture and the brunette hair. The hazel eyes and tanned skin. The sole, lone person in the picture.
This one was not like the rest, but this one held my attention the most.
I was finally seeing her outside of an internet article.
Becca Johnson.
No Harry, just Becca.
Sitting on the mantle, like a prized possession.

Behind her, a large building- a palace I think in Bangkok, Thailand- and she smiled widely.
It seemed pretty clear that this was a picture probably taken by Harry. It had all the ingredients.
The fact that he had framed it and kept it in his house even after all this time was interesting to me.
They had been over for a year, and he had moved on to me.
Why was she still here?
I studied her more. My eyes memorized every detail of his ex, down to the teeny tiny mole on her collarbone.
She was definitely not like me.
Outside of her age, we clearly had nothing in common.
We didn't look alike. We didn't move in the same circles, and our financial brackets had a stark difference, yet we had both gotten him.
The same him, who appeared a few seconds later.
"What are we looking at?" he asked coming up behind me. I felt Harry's hands wrap around my hips, pulling me against his thin frame.
I immediately turned the picture and showed him.
"This. This is Bangkok right?" I asked.
I knew if I started off with 'is this Becca' I wouldn't get too far based of past history. I needed to ease into this.
His eyes zeroed down to the picture. His eyes instantly widened-intense- and frozen on the image in front of him.
"Uh...yeah...that's the Grand Palace." He said after he composed himself, a couple seconds later.
"When were you there?"
His eyes didn't leave the picture.
As if on autopilot, he answered "On tour." His voice was robotic. "It was a long time ago."

"Tour?" I questioned.
He looked up at me.
"With her?” I asked demurely. “This is Becca right?" I continued. "Your ex?"
He looked at me a second more before he sighed gently.
"Yeah. That's her."
"How often did she go?" I asked.
"A few times." He said casually. "In the beginning she use to visit a lot."
I looked back at her. The competition.
He looked at me… look at her.
He tried to shift the conversation.
"I’ve got to start the food. What kind of soup do you want? I have Chicken Noodle, Clam Chowder and Tomato?" he asked, keeping his eyes on me.
I kept my eyes on her still.
"Tomato." I answered, but didn't put the picture down.
He continued to stare at me.I know he was watching my reaction to her.
Then it dawned on me; he was being protective, yet not of me, of her.
He was waiting to see what I was going to say.
"You keep her picture still?" I asked as a thought came to me.
“Yeah.” He said slowly.
“In your living room?” I questioned.
By your parents? By your friends? By your other loved ones?
His eyes narrowed.
"Yeah.” He repeated. “Why?” he asked defensively. “Why does it matter where it is?"
I finally broke away from the cheesing hazel eyed girl and turned to him.
"It doesn’t.” I said as my blue eyes locked on his. “I guess I’m just surprised is all." I said quickly and gently. "I wasn’t expecting to see her."
He looked towards the mantle in her previous spot.
He said nothing more.
His eyes moved away from me and the mantle and eventually looked back down at the picture.
Studying it for a second, he seemed lost in thought.
I didn’t say anything as he studied the picture like it was a goddamn Picasso.
I didn’t say anything at all, even after he reached and pulled the photo out of my hand.
Moving away from me, he placed it back on the mantle.
Gently...
For a second too long, he studied it one last time, before turning back to me with a sigh.
"Come on," he said. "I'll make your soup."
His face curled into a slow smile, but I looked past him.
She was back on the mantle but not where she was previously. Now she sat front and center in front of the rest.
Wide-eyed and smiley, I felt like she was watching us.
It made me instantly uncomfortable.
I turned to Harry and looked at him.
"Is that the only picture you have of her?" I asked.I didn’t want anymore surprises.
His smile dropped slowly, and he looked at me in confusion.
"Why?" he asked again.The defensiveness was back to his tone and I could tell he still didn’t like questions about her.
I still couldn’t read his reaction.
What was that look and tone that his voice took on when she was brought up? Was it resentment? Indifference? Pain?
Did he miss her, or despise the ground she walked on?
He must have not hated her too much if she was resting in his living room, just on the side angle from his TV. When he sat down he had to see her. As his eyes trailed his room, if he gave that corner more than a two second glance, she had to pop out; the stupid ‘I’m so innocent’ smile was enough to make anyone notice- and then from there, want to puke.
Harry continued to look at me, waiting on an answer.
His question hung between us.
It was what I wanted to know too.
Why.
Why did he still have a picture of her? In his house? On his mantle, perched beside his other loved ones?
I surely didn't have any of my exes even within miles of my house, especially not after a year's time.
"I'm just curious." I said, and I truly honestly was.
It was becoming clearer to me that the timid college student who had stood next to him at that party many months earlier had meant a lot to him.
Whatever relationship they had carried on, he obviously still wanted a piece of.
It cast the first sense of worry through my veins, but I would learn it wouldn’t be the last.
He smiled again, and came to me.
Pulling me in his arms, he gave me a soft kiss.
"You're curious about a lot of things." He noted.
"No. Just her." I said honestly, finally letting the truth spill from my lips.
I needed details. I wanted to know everything.
He paused for a moment, not obliging me and not sure of how to respond.
We looked back at each other as I tried to understand the discomfort in his green irises.
I was waiting for the reassurance: Ya know you don't need to be....she means nothing to me...that's been over for a while.
However, he didn't give me any of that this time.
Pulling my lips back to his, instead, it seemed he just wanted to forget the conversation.
As his lips encased mine, I tried not to think about it and wrap myself in him.
I had him.
He wanted me.
They were over.
But she was there.
There, like sitting on the mantle staring at us, there.
When he pulled away, my insecurities kicked in.
What had I walked into?

As he finally moved away, ready to resume his previous task, I pulled him back to me.
I felt uneasy and possessive.
I felt like I needed to do something.
"What?" he asked as I pulled him back to me, but I didn't give him a chance to ask anymore questions.
I crashed my lips against his, pulling out my magic.
I kissed him like I hadn't tasted him all last night and he laughed against my lips.
"Woah," he said. "Slow down hun."
"Let’s forget the food." I said breathlessly, keeping my arms around him. "Let's finish what we started."
He chuckled, his smile growing wider.
"What about your soup? Aren't you hungry?"
I placed my hand on the loops of his jeans.
"I'm hungry for something else." I assured.
Seconds later, I dropped to my knees.
Looking at me in amusement he smiled down at me as I unbuckled his pants and placed my hands in his boxers, digging for the gold.
When my mouth connected to my favorite part of him, he let out a satisfied sigh.
Taking him fully in my mouth, I weaved my mouth back and forth sucking him as if my life depended on it.
With his hands going to his face, the only thing he could do was hold on.
"Oh my—Jesus Julie..." he began. "You're going to be the death of me."
He brought a hand down, wrapping it around my loose blond waves, guiding me to what he liked; though I was already well aware.
I responded by sucking harder, and taking him further in.
I grunted against him, taking his length and I could tell he loved every minute.

I loved every minute.

See this was my power.
I had been prepped early on at the ripe age of twelve by my Grandma that the hidden treasure between my legs could make men do anything.
That warm, molten core could make a man pretty much fall at your feet if used right.
I wasn't ashamed to admit that since we had met, I had used this as part of my relationship with Harry.
I was great at sex, hell a fucking goddess at it, and when he was inside of me, I could make him forget everyone and everything.
He had an interview to get too? Guess what, I could make him late.
He a phone call to make? Guess what, I could make him turn his phone off.
He wanted to walk away? Guess what, he always came back.
He had already told me I was the best he had ever had and right now I wanted him to remember that.
Right now, I wanted Harry to forget about Becca Johnson. Right now, I wanted every thought to be of me.

As I opened my eyes and peered up at him, a sense of warmth moved through me as our eyes locked.
I loved having him watch me and I didn't break the contact loving the expressions he made. However, there was a specific look I was waiting on. The one that I knew only I could give him.
There was a look, ever slight, and ever perfect that he made when he came.
It was a look of pure reverence and adoration.
I still had yet to see this look outside of the bedroom, but I was hopeful I would see it one day soon.
With the time we were putting in, and the way he was starting to reach out more, I was sure he was beginning to like me more and more.
As we reached the final moments, I looked up, prepared to see my favorite expression.
As my eyes locked on his beautiful clenched jaw, suspended in pure bliss, I saw it. That moment of complete pleasure and love. That moment I adored.
As I hollowed my cheeks, sucking harder and harder, his eyes popped open locking on what was in front of him.
Yet this time it wasn’t me.
This time he didn’t look down at me, smiling in all his glory. This time his eyes remained straight ahead.
As it boiled down to the final seconds, I watched in vexation as his eyes locked in the general direction of that picture behind me.
The picture of the plain college student who was now front and center in front of everyone.
As he spilled in my mouth, his eyes remained locked on her.
I was sure of it.
She got my moment and she damn sure got my look.
“Shit,” he grunted a second later, not moving or shifting his eyes until it was all over.
When his eyes finally moved down to me after I had wiped my mouth and removed all the excess come my mouth didn’t swallow, I was incensed.
As his eyes moved down meeting mine again, he smiled.
“You are fucking amazing Julie St. Clair.”
I stood, this time not basking in the praise of his words. He reached for my jeans this time, pulling me to him, but I was concerned with what was going on behind me. Needing a quick confirmation, I looked behind me to make sure I wasn’t crazy.
And I wasn’t.
Oh he had been looking at her alright. She was the only thing he had to see.
I looked at the image in front of me. Wide-eyed and smiley, I felt like the bitch was taunting me.
“Hey?” Harry called, pulling my attention. “You with me?”
I faced him again, trying to ignore the rising feeling in my veins. That second feeling of worry.
Get a grip Julie.
Right now, he was my mine again, and his eyes were only locked on me, riddled in confusion.
“Yeah of course.” I said, trying to shake away my thoughts.
I was being ridiculous. I was being immature.
Forget that picture in the corner, and forget her.
He didn’t want her.
He wanted me.
He smirked and pulled me to him, kissing the side of my face.
“Good.” He said. “Because it’s your turn.”
I smiled as he grabbed my arm, tossing me over his shoulders.
“What are you doing?!” I squealed as my chest hit his back. He spun me around and slapped my butt.
I just laughed as my eyes locked on that picture again, growing smaller and smaller as he led us out of the room.
She was still watching us. Still fucking taunting me with that stupid smile.
Still the Picasso on the mantle.

And if I had only known…
This was just the beginning.
She wasn’t going anywhere.

Notes

Comments

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK BECCA?! Poor Harry :'(

Prinny1321 Prinny1321
6/9/19

Becca what are you doing! Harry loves you.

En_1960 En_1960
6/9/19

Nooo, Becca, what are you doing?! What's Harry going to think now when he wakes up and she has left... Amazing update as always!!

Harry02 Harry02
6/8/19

Ohhhhh.....Becca. Knee jerk reaction. Thank you for updating

En_1960 En_1960
6/1/19

YES, you're back, I had nearly given up on this story. This is still my favourite story on here so I'm super happy you're continuing it. I loooove the new chapters, so many feels!!!

Harry02 Harry02
5/31/19