A lovestory – no matter the nature of it – always starts somewhere, doesn’t it? Ordinary. Mundane. Their beginning was no different.
She was a friend of a friend.
It was how they were introduced, both attendees at a lavish party – ironically. Champagne overflowed from the expensive crystal flutes, servers gracefully working the ballroom, ensuring not one single party goer was empty handed. The band played animatedly, tirelessly, providing the ballroom dancers an upbeat beat to maintain the joyful atmosphere. It was seemingly called the party of the year. Why, she couldn’t recall now, most of the evening being a monochrome in her mind. That is, of course, until his curious gaze found hers, painting the memory of the rest of the evening with intense but bright colors.
Looking back on that first night was a hobby of hers, as much as she despised herself for it. But it was all she had left; memories of times where she felt the most liberated, the most at peace.. and alive.
He was attractive, commonly so. A nose that was slightly sloped, thin lips that he moistened while intently listening to every word she spoke, and rosy cheeks that deepened with the climate. And freckles. Freckles too faint to spot unless close-up. It was the first thing she noticed when he leaned forward to formally kiss her cheeks during their introduction. It would be the only sophisticated behavior she would witness for the remainder of their time together.
He acted normal, his stance depicting one of an average lad who worked a steady nine-to-five schedule despite the tailored designer tux he wore. It was refreshing to say the least, having shared the company of wealthy and high profile individuals for the better half of her life.
He was different, she could tell within the first few minutes of their interaction. He always appeared to be genuinely interested in what she was spouting out, even asking deeper questions to pick her brain. He smiled, a little lift at the corners of his mouth, and it created flutters in her tummy.
“So, tell me, what do you do for a living?”
“I’m a writer,” she revealed, taking a small sip of the bubbly drink.
“Fascinating,” he said with brows lifted up. A smirk formed on his lips before he pried. “Let me guess, a romance novelist?”
“Ha!” She laughed, refraining from rolling her eyes. “You would think that, wouldn’t you?”
The gleam in his eye excited her. He undoubtedly was not expecting the strong and feminine woman before him. “Pardon me? What’s that to mean?”
She took another sip from the flute and cleared her throat. “That’s always the first assumption when I tell someone I write. As if women are only capable of creating literature that has to do with housed wild and romantic fantasies.”
“Hm,” Harry hummed with a nod, pursing his lips in thought. “It’s a fair assumption I would say, no? If you think about it, the majority of the romance novels are written by women.” He paused before adding, “Intelligent women. I believe the more.. adventurous genres are penned by the male population.”
“I believe that to be a bit sexist.” She stated brazenly with eyes forward, focused on the spacious dance floor to avoid his gaze. “For centuries, women have been writing – what was it that you called it? adventurous genres – under pen names, solely for the purpose to gain male readers. To gain some sort of respect. We live in a society where men still dominate in every aspect of life, except for kitchen and household duties.”
She paused to take a breath and stole a glance in his direction, her heart beating rapidly in her chest at his astounded expression. His skin had turned a bit more red, whether it was out of embarrassment or disagreement, she wasn’t sure. But one thing was for certain: Harry had been stunned speechless.
Her cheeks flushed when his sparkling blues bore into hers. Suddenly, she felt embarrassed by her rant, her basically coming out and calling him a sexist pig dawning on her. “I-I’m s-sorry. I didn’t mea-”
“No, no, no,” Harry hurriedly stopped her. Long fingers wrapped around her wrist when she made a notion to leave and her insides jumped at the current of electricity that shocked her from his touch, eyes fixated on his strong hold. “Please, go on.”
Her attention flitted back up to meet his, relief washing over her when she was greeted by his lopsided grin. The lopsided grin that would steal her heart. ”I’m just saying that there’s a massive amount of female writers in sci-fantasy and murder mystery; you just wouldn’t know it.”
They went on to talk for the rest of the evening, tucked away at a small discreet corner as if they were the only ones that existed. He learned that while she was a novelist, she was also a Literature professor to pay the high cost of living. She confided in him of one day being able to survive solely on the income of her self-publishing work. She was an only child, her parents residing somewhere in Scotland for retirement. Harry kept her hand cradling a filled glass all night, relishing the way her cheeks began to flush after depleting several offerings of champagne as they turned away from chatter of her personal life and onto more adverse topics. She laughed freely with him, choking on air at his corny jokes, but wasn’t at all afraid to friendly oppose their different opinions.
They never spoke of his missing significant other, although being aware of her existence due to their very public relationship that made headlines every Sunday edition.
By the last few songs on the jazz band’s setlist, Harry had loosened his bowtie, subconsciously feeling at ease and comfortable around this highly intelligent and interesting woman. And she had paid no mind to the carefully pinned tresses that had begun to loosen after rounds of laughter.
He was behaving himself. Sure, it was a bit flirtatious at times, but they were a woman and a man just working on human instinct. After briefly catching her wrist, he kept his hands to himself like he was supposed to. No matter how much this attractive woman sped his pulse when she held his gaze or the way his palms itched to feel her creamy skin when a strap slipped off her shoulder.
But there was only so much self control he had; especially around her. He would find that out in due time.
When a ringlet of her auburn hair fell freely in front of her eyes, without as so much of a thought, his hand reached towards it and brushed it away from her line of vision. He could hear and see the short intake of air she took when his knuckles skimmed the side of face, their unwavering stare creating a sweet forbidden pull in his lower belly.
She fascinated him, intrigued him even. The way she stood for what she believed in, a spitfire nature in her when he disagreed that ignited a spark within him. How she could easily flirt with him unabashedly, then turn pink at the flash of a crooked smile. Her unguarded hearty laugh as she carelessly tilted her head back. Her slightly curved shoulders, revealing poor posture that gave away her early life of not being from an aristocrat family. He wanted to know more – cravedto know everything about her.
”You’re beautiful.” The words rushed out of him without warning and the sparkle in her wide shaped eyes did nothing to cease the jump of his insides.
She couldn’t respond, her breath caught in her throat. Harry didn’t remove his touch, only became more bold as if he couldn’t help himself. After tucking her free strands securely behind her ear, his palm cradled her rounded cheek and he peered down at her with his head tilted to one side, trying to read her. When she showed no signs of pulling back, his thumb dauntlessly smoothed over the curve of her small nose and down towards her full lips that trembled for his, their eyes darting between the other.
Just a few inches. That was all that was stopping their mouths from meeting.
Harry lowered his head further, noting the way her pupils dilated as he got closer. Her head was spinning, his masculine scent invading her, crashing through her nostrils and sinking deep inside of her. Her lips parted and her lashes fluttered shut, readying for his kiss.
”More champagne, sir?” Her eyes popped open and the couple tore apart instantly, the waiter acting like a cold bucket of ice being dumped on them.
After politely declining the offer, Harry started to mentally berate himself for displaying such affections in a public area. What would people think if word got around? What would his girlfriend think? She would never trust him out of her sight at another gathering again if she had known he was this close to touch his lips to another woman’s.
Another woman.
He focused on her trembling form, her delicate fingertips gently resting on her collarbone as her chest rose and fell with each deep breath. She didn’t look up at him, too startled by what was about to occur moments prior. Harry felt foolish, being at fault for the discomfort that she was clearly showing.
Clearing his throat after his eyes raked all over her curvaceous form, he shifted on his aching feet and downed every drop of the alcohol that remained in his glass, and then spoke to redirect what was transpiring between them. “So,” he tried.
She jumped at his earthy voice. Disheartening thoughts – reminders of his unavailable status – swirled inside her head, conflicting with the rush of newly discovered feelings coursing through her. “So,” she repeated in a croak, hating how weak she sounded at the slightest touch of a man. The strong urge to peek up at him was there, fueled by his roving eyes, and when she dared to meet his heated expression, she knew for sure that her whole entire world was about to drastically change.
And she wasn’t certain that was necessarily a good thing.
“You never told me what genre you write for,” he said. The smirk that had formed only shifted to a full on smile when she laughed lightly, shaking her head. “Come on.. you must tell me now.”
She swallowed, a sheepish smile adorning her mouth, before she leaned a bit closer to confess in a low undertone. “Historical romance.”
It took all but a second for Harry’s silence to be interrupted by amusement that barked out of his mouth, the laughter reaching his dancing eyes. She fell onto him in a puddle of giggles at his infectious laugh, blaming the copious amount of champagne she had consumed on an empty stomach. They clung to each other for several long minutes while laughing uncontrollably, ignoring the curious looks they were receiving.
Without a doubt, they were both instantly equally smitten.
*****
Their friendly banter continued on for several weeks from there, developing a deeper connection with each phone call and surprise evening visits at the cottage home she rented in Surrey. They trusted each other wholeheartedly, valued opinions, even within a short time. She ran her lectures through him, and he gave her pointers on how to maintain a lively course for her students. He asked for her thoughts on his next career move when the time came, or how to articulate a certain emotion in his speeches when he was stuck on words. They discussed – nay, they argued on political views, the pleasures of literature, and how many licks it takes to get to the center of a tootsie pop.
”Guess what I picked up after lunch.” He grinned wide when she opened the door.
A look of horror appeared on her face at the familiar cover he waved in the air. ”You most certainly did not.”
”I most certainly did.”
”I don’t see it.”
”What?” He asked while stepping inside the warmth of her home, shrugging off his coat when she stretched her hand out for it. “Thanks.”
She walked over to the rack near the wooden door and hung his green coat before turning back to him and crossing her arms. ”You reading through 327 pages of that.”
Harry chuckled at her quirked brow. ”You’re right. I couldn’t get passed chapter six. ’His pulsating manhood and her feminine heat’ just wasn’t doing it for me. I could barely suppress a giggle.”
“You uncultured swine.”
An infectious laugh escaped him and he wagged a finger in her direction. “I believe that’s plagiarism, Miss Copyright Ignorer.”
“Ha! Copyright Ignorer?” She teased. “You are a man of many words, Wales.”
”At least I don’t steal my insults from Toy Story.”
She scoffed. ”I didn’t steal! Merely borrowed.”
While their playful argumentative relationship was very much that, it wasn’t to mean they didn’t have much in common. In fact, they had more similarities in opinions than not. They enjoyed competition programmes and sporting events on the telly, as well as the classic board games that were kept stored under a bunch of clutter in her bedroom closet. Chuckles and giggles could be heard over the comics in the Sunday paper. YouTube videos were played on her Macbook of anything from adorable kittens to hilarious song parodies. Harry loved that she preferred action films opposed to the cliched romantic comedy (it was a temporary relief from her hopelessly romantic storyteller brain), and she appreciated his lack of complaints when she gutsy attempted at baking sweets, sharing the same lack of talent with him.
“How long did you leave it in for?” Harry quizzically asked with eyes casted on the cookies that were heavily golden and burnt around the edges.
“Ugh! It said to bake between eight and twelve minutes. I set the timer for seven!”
“It can’t be that bad…” He slowly picked one up, grimacing at the rock hard treat that was supposed to be moist and soft. Bringing it up to his lips, he could feel her staring at him in suspense. Taking a nibble, he hummed a fake approval to lighten up her sullen mood, mentally setting a reminder to make an appointment with the dentist to fix any chips.
She followed suit and immediately threw it back on the baking sheet before it reached her mouth. “It’s like concrete!”
“Ah, come on…It’s really not that bad..” He lied, taking another miniscule bite. “It’s edible.”
She frowned down at the overly done cookies and heard a loud crunch at her side. “Harry! You’re going to break a tooth!” Seeing a jerky movement in her peripheral vision, she turned to him and smacked his chest at the sight of him failing to stifle a laugh behind his fist. “Bastard.”
They were friends. Close friends, even though the unspoken attraction was there; a forbidden attraction – one that could never amount to anything.
Until something had unexpectedly shifted one fateful evening, blinding them both.
Harry had brought over dinner as he often did after regretfully discovering she couldn’t boil an egg either. They dined together at the coffee table in the living room, sitting crosslegged in front of the peaceful crackling of the fireplace. An ordinary conversation was flowing between the two, one that neither would be able to recall when they thought back on the moment. He had uttered something and she had tossed her head back and screeched with laughter. He guffawed along with her, eyes fixated on her sweet face that he longed to see whenever they were apart, missing the obnoxiously loud laugh that made his ears ring until he heard it again.
He couldn’t tell if it was because they had gone two and a half weeks without being able to share a laugh due to a tour overseas to the States, or if it was the echoes of his own amusement reaching his ears that made him realize that he never sounded like this with anyone else.
Normal. Unguarded. Himself.
Whatever it was, it controlled his next action.
She was about to reply back to his comical observation when his lips covered hers. It was urgent, it was firm, and it did wonders to her insides. Harry groaned when the brief moment of shock melted and she responded to his kisses, rubbing her own lips against his and granting him access to the inside of her mouth when he asked for it. His tongue dipped in, greedily tasting every corner she honored him with, her honeysuckle signature scent filling every one of his sense; drugging him. She moaned at the erotic dance their mouths were performing, his hands cradling her cheeks and hers busy in his hair.
Harry would soon come to discover that her greatest weakness would be his hungry kisses that stole her breath.
Just when their lungs began to burn, Harry pulled away and rested his head against hers. It took several minutes to bring their breathing pattern back to a normal rate, too engrossed in the close proximity to count the seconds.
“I love you,” Harry hoarsely whispered, the words tickling her swollen lips and creating delicious shivers down her spine.
“Harry..”
“I love you,” he repeated and rubbed his nose along hers. “I’m so in love with you. It’s been tearing me apart not touching you like this.. Not kissing you…” He gulped the fear of rejection down. ”Tell me you feel it, too.”
It was wrong. He was with someone else. She wasn’t his. But nothing had felt more right when she uttered her own confession that she had been keeping locked inside of her heart for quite some time.
“I love you, too.”
A relieved grin was the last thing she saw before he captured her lips in another head spinning kiss, this time slow and sensual. He laid her down on the soft rug and hovered above her, nipping and tugging gently at her glistening lips. The fire burned brightly beside them, the undying flames reflecting the heat that passed between them as they made love.
And so began the affair.
At the start of the new level of the complicated relationship, everything seemed like a twisted fairytale. Evenings of laughter and flirty debates were still very much present. They were still best friends. They continued to be the pair they had been since the beginning, except now more intimate with the newly addition of the less-than-innocent touches and sexual play. Despite the complex situation, everything was romantic and hot, and that was enough for her. For awhile.
”What’s another word for success?”
She could have laughed at his way of greeting her as soon as she picked up the call, but the stressed tone of his voice stopped her short of that. ”In what nature are you looking for?”
”Like…succeeding at something..” He growled, tossing the pen onto his desk in frustration. ”I don’t know! I’ve been staring at this fucking paper for two hours trying to write this speech and I’ve listed ‘success’ five different times.”
”Okay..take a breath. Let’s see…” Squinting at the abandoned sentence she was in the middle of typing when her phone buzzed to life, she began to toss whatever word sprang to mind. “Favorable outcome, accomplishment, triumphant, achievement-”
“Achievement!” Harry called out and picked up the pen to scrawl the word. “Thank you.”
She chuckled in answer. “No problem. Anything else?”
“Nope,” he smiled, feeling a bit lighter at her honey voice. “Did I interrupt something?”
“Umm.. I was in the middle of writing something..”
“Sorry. I’ll get you to it.”
“You sure?” She chewed at the corner of her lip, not ready to hang up just yet.
“Yeah, yeah,” he sighed, leaning back in his chair and grimacing at the soreness of his shoulders. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“I’ll be here. Call me if you need any more help?”
“Of course. Goodnight, love.”
“Goodnight, Harry.”
Harry tossed his mobile on the desk and brought his hands up to rub his haggard face, missing her already. Her sweet face sprang to mind during all hours of the day, whether he was occupied at an engagement or bored out of his mind during a never-ending meeting. But nights, especially these when he needed her expertise, were especially hard. He longed for her. He longed to be in the middle of nowhere in her cottage, underneath her sheets, loving on her and accepting her loving on him.
His back tensed when he heard the clicking of shoes approaching the door, his heart galloping in his chest at how precise the timing was.
“Who was that?”
“Will.” The repeated lie that mumbled out of his mouth was becoming too comfortable.
———–
“You look stunning,” he softly said over her shoulder. She turned slowly to face him, a secret smile tugging at the corners of her mouth at his presence. Her heart was still aching, having just witnessed his arm around her, talking and laughing to the other guests as if he didn’t care for any other woman than the one that was glued to his arm. It was the second party they were attending after everything changed, and while she had known what to expect this time around, it still didn’t ease the hurt that consumed her chest.
They never brought her up. Not yet, anyway.
“Thank you,” she replied with her own flirty smile. He always knew the right words to say to bring a smile forth and toss the yet unspoken heartache to the dark corners of her mind. Harry mirrored the same expression and ducked his head like a gentlemen, sticking out a trusting hand for her to take.
“May I have this dance, madam?”
“You may, sir.”
Harry twirled her effortlessly, pleasantly surprising her of how familiar his feet were on the ballroom floor. It was no secret how awkward his everyday dance really was, not being very well coordinated in his movements when a mainstream pop record was playing. But to witness his self-confident grin and the glint in his eye when she would meet him after being spun around was like gaining another piece of his hidden self. A new treasure that made up the incredible man she loved.
“Meet me upstairs in the study,” his lowered voice at the shell of her ear was thick with sexual desire and it sent tingles straight down to where she craved for him the most.
“When?” She asked without missing a beat.
Shame and guilt were two emotions she should have felt giving in so easily to his advances, but she felt neither one. If he asked her to jump, she would ask how high. It was that simple. Call it weak, call it being submissive, she didn’t care. All she cared about was being with this man that stirred emotions she hadn’t felt since her mid-twenties.
“After this dance,” he said, swaying her to the melody. “Head up first and give me ten minutes.”
“Okay.”
He pulled her in close once more and felt her sharp intake of air at the rush it gave her. His groin ached from her chest brushing against his, the hard bulge that had begun to form at the first sight of her painfully straining against his trousers. A vibration caused heat to pool between her thighs, the moan that had come from deep in his chest eliciting a whimper to slip past her lips.
“I can’t wait to have you,” he groaned against her ear. “To taste you on my tongue.. To watch you come apart for me..”
Her cheeks flushed at his arousing words, her knickers undoubtedly growing more moist with every murmur. It was easy to see something unusual was transpiring between the two, but she didn’t care about any attention that would be on them as they danced a little too close. In fact, it only seemed to excite her further as he breathed every single erotic act he wanted to perform with her – on her – while the party in the ballroom continued on.
—————–
“I love how faint your freckles are,” she mused. Harry’s grin pulled higher and his eyes continued to flutter at her light touch. Her fingertips smoothed across his cheek, down the slope of his nose, and pressed against his thin lips. A startled giggle escaped her when his lips parted and he playfully bit her like a piranha.
Harry pulled his arms around her naked form and shifted underneath her weight as they lay in the afterglow. “Is that all you love about me?”
“Mm-mm..” she hummed, leaning forward to kiss his mouth softly. “I love your lips.. and how they form different smiles that bring butterflies to my tummy.”
“Such as?”
She tilted her head to the side. “Your goofy grin.. your playful smirk.. the conceited, cocky grin that I can’t help but adore no matter how much I want to smack it off your face..” He lifted his brows and chortled. “Your gentle smile that just..lights up a room.”
The steady pounding in his chest escalated. “What else?”
“Mm.. I love your heavy head..”
“Heavy?! Ha!”
“Mhm.. and the mind inside of it; full of intelligence and the best kind of humour.”
“Intelligence? You sure?”
She bit his lip in punishment. “Shush. You are very smart, Wales. Smarter than you let on.”
“Go on. What else do you love?”
A smirk that he couldn’t see behind his closed lids appeared on her face. “You mean besides your hot body?”
“Ha!” He barked a laugh before replying. “I know how sexy and irresistible it is, love. But, sure, it’s nice to hear you mention it.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah..”
He pinched her side lightly. “And…?”
“Your heart. How caring and genuine it is. How you’re not afraid to show it.” She inwardly cringed at the irony behind that. “And how strong it beats against my head when we cuddle.” She went on to list every part of him she adored, sure to lay her lips over what she could. “Your cheeks and how they’re always rosy but.. turn a deeper shade when you’re turned on.”
“You use that to your advantage.”
“I do.. but it also makes my heart race. Just like when I see your gorgeous blue eyes sparkle.”
Harry peeled his eyes open after she placed kisses over them and looked her dead in the eyes. “They only sparkle for you.”
“Harry…” She breathlessly said his name.
“Listen to me,” he demanded, never averting his intent gaze from her darting eyes. “I see only you. My heart beats only for you. My body only craves you. My head.. my entire being.. everything is you. I’m yours. And in time…” What he was about to promise caught in his throat. “Baby… I love you. I only love you. I need you to know that.”
She felt lightheaded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She couldn’t breathe, her breaths coming out uneven and becoming more choppy when he lifted his hands to her cradle her cheeks. She wanted to believe that, wanted to believe everything he said and everything he wassaying without speaking it aloud. She wanted to be reassured that someday in the near future they wouldn’t have to look twice before stealing a kiss whilst in the company of others, that they would be able to go out in public and share a dessert or cuddle at the theatre. She wanted to believe all of her dreams would come true, Harry at her side. And in a way she did.
“Tell me you know that.” He plead, stroking her soft skin.
“I do.” She replied, softly. “But I’m scared.”
“What are you scared of, baby?”
“Losing you.”
His heart almost shattered at the crack of her voice and the tears that fell freely from her eyes. “I’m not going anywhere, love.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
*****
As time went on, intensity of the love affair only escalated. Once the elephant in the room was announced, once she was brought up, everything changed. It was best described as a vicious cycle; a dance that kept going round and round with the same result. She had to share him, she knew this. He didn’t belong to only her, even though he possessed all of her. It was something she had to live with, wanting to be with him no matter what it took. Love was enough. Wasn’t it?
”I can’t make it tonight.”
”It’s fine.” The deep sigh that came from her showed the opposite.
His eyes darted to the slightly open door, straining his ears for any sign of life near it. ”I’m sorry.”
”Don’t be.”
”You’re upset.”
”I’m not.” Her tone begged to differ.
”I’m sorry,” he apologized again.
”I know.”
Silence.
”Angry with me?”
Another long drawn out sigh. ”No, I’m not mad at you. I’m just missing you and annoyed she has you tonight.”
”I know, baby. I miss you, too.” Rubbing his lips together, he listened to her breathing for a moment, wishing more than anything he could hold her in his arms and kiss away the hurt he knew she was feeling.
”When are you free?” She asked, breaking the deafening silence.
Harry hesitated, afraid of her reaction. ”Not for another week or so.” When her answer was the uneasy silence again, he swallowed. ”I’ll try and see what I can do on Saturday.”
”I’ll be out of town Saturday,” she sullenly said before reminding him. ”I’m flying out to Paris on Friday for that workshop I told you about.”
”Oh..right. I forgot.”
Suddenly, hearing him admit he had forgotten about her business trip they had been discussing for the past several weeks irked her and she felt the blood boil in her veins.
”Of course you did.”
Harry’s eyes widened at the snippy tone she took with him, almost spitting at him through the phone. ”What?”
”If it doesn’t involve your dick, then it doesn’t matter, does it?”
His brows knitted together in anger. ”What the fuck is that to mean?”
”You know exactly what that means.”
”I don’t use you for sex,” Harry said firmly. ”So get that out of your head right now.”
She was a strong, independent woman that didn’t back down in a fight, but at the sound of his sharp tone, she lost all of her strength that was needed to stay angry with him; fear of losing him forever being the underlying reason for it.
“Sorry,” she weakly apologized. “I’m already frustrated and you forgetting my workshop got to me.”
His anger didn’t melt, not when she had accused him of using her for his sole pleasure. “Don’t ever imply stupid shit like that again.”
“Alright, I said I was sorry,” she shot back, then cringed at his exasperated sigh.
“Lose the attitude. I don’t care for it.” Shoes were clinking against the hardwood floor and his own attitude quickly evaporated as he hurriedly spoke. “I have to go. Listen, I’m not angry with you and I don’t want to end on bad terms. Let’s just accept our apologies and I will call you when I can.”
“Okay.” What else was she to say?
“Okay. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
They fought hard, loved harder.
They laughed, they cried, they shouted.
They fucked hard and fast.
They made slow and gentle love.
Squeals laced with boisterous laughs as Harry chased her around the small kitchen, a dripping paint brush in one hand and a devilish grin on his face. “Get over here.” He ducked to the side to get away from the apple that was flying in his direction. “Jesus, you’ve got incredible aim.”
“Told you I played in school.”
“I underestimated you, it seems.”
She narrowed her eyes, eyeing his every little movement and darting around the table before he could reach her. “You underestimate quite a bit, Wales.”
“Mm..” He nodded, and then looked at a spot behind her with confusion etched across his features. She stopped and turned in the direction he was focused on, and then shrieked when she felt a strong arm wrap around her waist while the wet paint swept down her cheek in a sloppy line. “You underestimate me.”
—————–
Her heart ached as the tormented cries ripped from him. She held him close, rubbing small circles on his back in a soothing motion as he lay his head on her lap. Experiencing the death of a loved one was never easy, that she knew, but she couldn’t fathom the loss of a parent. Especially at the young age he had. There were no words she could say, not having gone through it herself yet, but offering up her shoulder to cry on was all he wanted. It was enough.
—————-
“What do you want from me?!” He roared, tugging on his hair in complete and utter frustration.
“I want you to own up to it!”
“What the fuck are you even talking about?! I told you I couldn’t make it. I had other obligations.”
“I saw pictures of you… with her.”
“I can’t just leave her every fucking night to be with you. That’s not how it works.”
She laughed bitterly. “Then, please, enlighten me. How does this fucking work in your head? Harry, you promised things were going to change. You were just herelast week promising everything would be different. That you were going to leave her. That we would finally be able to be uswithout worrying about everything.”
He took a deep sigh, dropping his hands to his sides. “I need more time.”
“More time,” she mocked, rubbing her forehead in distress. “How much moretime do you possibly need? Harry, we’ve been at this for…god knows! How much more time is it going to take?”
“I-” he paused, shaking his head. “I don’t know.”
Something snapped inside of her, a sick feeling settling in her stomach. “Leave.”
“What?” Panic came over him, his chest tightening. “Baby..”
“No,” she took a step back. “I want you to leave, Harry. I want you to leave and don’t come back here until I am able to kiss the man I love while strolling down the street.” Her voice wavered as she held back the emotions that were dying to pour out of her. “Don’t come back until I am able to tell my parents that their daughter is in love with an amazing man that loves their only little girl back.”
“I don’t.. I’m not.. I ca-” He stumbled, tears coating his throat.
“Please,” she begged, unable to hold back the cries any longer. “Please, just go.”
———
“I miss you.”
Her eyes shut tightly at his pained confession and she gripped the mobile tighter. “I miss you, too.”
“I had a dream about you last night.” Biting her tongue to refrain from telling him she dreamed of him every night since the old tired fight, she let him go on. “We were driving in my car and the windows were down. Your hair was blowing from the wind and I remember looking over at you and just feeling like I was soaring.” Her breathing pattern quickened at the thickness of his voice, loving how deep it was and the way it always managed to weaken her strong facade. “Then you looked at me with the sun shining in your beautiful eyes.. and.. you smiled. God, I miss your smile.”
“Har-
“I miss your laugh.. and your arms around me.. I miss that smart mouth of yours..”
“Hey!”
He snickered, loving how easily they were able to get back to old familiar bantering. “And the way you blush when you catch me staring at you.”
“Creep.” She joked, lightly.
“I miss us.” He inhaled deeply before cautiously asking. “Can I come over?”
“Harry.. I don’t know..”
“Please..” He didn’t care how desperate he sounded. “I need to see you. I can’t be without you. I’ve been going mad.. I just.. I need to see you.”
And just like that, she melted and gave in. Like she always did.
*****
When she slipped out the door at his engagement party several months later, she thought their song had faded. She was convinced their heart wrenching dance had come to an end as the days came and went. Regardless, her faith in true love and her hope in them had remained intact somewhere hidden deep inside her.
Until his wedding day neared. And she was still alone, watching the coverage all week on the telly, feeling her heart break more and more at his smiling face and herstaring deep into the ocean blue orbs that she missed immensely. She despised herself for allowing their affair to carry on and reaching as far it did. She had so many regrets looking back on it all, but despite the hopelessness she felt now, she never regretted loving him.
He was getting married in the morning, and that’s when the last string of hope she had been holding onto was cut, leaving a scar on her heart.
But when she gathered herself together enough to stand on her feet and shuffle to her cold and empty bedroom, a rap on her front door stopped her short. Her insides jumped, her heart leapt in her throat, and the string of hope was instantly sewing back together.
Oh, how she had been wrong. So very wrong to think they could ever stay away.
And the sadistic pleasure of their forbidden dance continued on.
Wild Winter's Day 