Plunge
No
~Cassidy~
“So…” Matt stared over at me, saying the word quietly so that Harry wouldn’t hear. The movie had just finished playing, and there was a half-empty popcorn bowl smuggled into my lap; every so often I take a large handful of popcorn out and shove it in my mouth.
Matt was sitting beside me, his arm wrapped around my shoulder as I leaned on him. Harry had been sitting on the other couch, but now, he was lying down, his legs hanging off of the arm, and snoring lightly. He’d fallen asleep. Matt had told me to let him come inside, just so that he didn’t feel excluded. I’d reluctantly agreed.
“What?” I nudged him, making sure that I didn’t wake the sleeping boy.
He smirked at me, “I saw his arm around your waist at the airport. What was that all about?”
I made a low exasperated noise, rolling my eyes at his suggestiveness.
He chuckled quietly as I explained, “He was getting a lot of female attention,” even as the words came out of my mouth I scoffed, “So he wanted me to just play along.”
I put the last words in air quotes, sighing and munching on some more popcorn.
“I see,” Matt sounded inquisitive, but he couldn’t stop a grin from breaking through, and I just stuck my tongue out at him, wishing that he’d stop with all this bullshit.
“Shut up, you know it’s true,” I elbowed him in the ribs, and he let out a strangled sound, which was oddly high-pitched. I broke out into loud laughs, immediately waking Harry, who sat bolt upright, not used to being awaken so abruptly. His reaction just made me throw my head back and laugh harder, not caring anymore.
“Cassidy,” Matt scolded me playfully, “You woke him.”
“What—me?” I asked, my eyes widening teasingly. I smacked his arm before smiling and resting my head back on his shoulder, “You’re the one that squealed.”
“Only because you hurt me,” he grumbled like a toddler, dramatically rubbing the spot of his ribs where I’d elbowed him.
I laughed again before shooting a glance over at Harry. His entire torso was tense, his eyes hard and watching the playful banter between Matt and I intently. I shook my head, not bothering trying to figure him out, because I knew I’d just end up lost, as usual.
However, his gaze landed on me and stayed there, burning a hole into the side of my head. I pretended not to notice, continuing to argue childishly with Matt, but eventually I couldn’t help but to feel uncomfortable.
“I’m going to get a drink,” I announced abruptly, standing up. Matt crinkled his eyebrows questioningly but I just shrugged, “Want anything?”
“I’m good thanks,” he told me, and I quickly nodded, turning on my heel and making my way out of the kitchen as quickly as I could, avoiding Harry’s intent gaze as I passed.
I hurried into the kitchen, making my way over to the fridge and opening it, emitting a soft sigh. I peered around the small cold compartment for a moment before deciding nonchalantly on a plastic water bottle. I reached into the fridge and cussed lightly as I realised it was at the very back, on the highest shelf.
Standing on my toes, my fingers just brushed up along the plastic, and I groaned.
Suddenly, I felt a warm feeling appear behind me, and another arm snaked over my shoulder, reaching up and plucking the bottle neatly off of the shelf. I let out a tiny, barely audible gasp and spun around, slightly surprised.
He was standing there, holding the bottle in his left hand like it was nothing.
I gritted my teeth silently and crossed my arms over my chest, “That’s mine.”
Harry looked at it, surprised—as though he just realised that he was holding it—and held out his hand, indicating that I should take it. I narrowed my eyes at him, waiting for him to wrench his arm back and yell out, “Psych!” but it never came.
I quickly lashed out, grabbing the water from his grasp, our fingers brushing as I did so. My fingers tingled, but I’m sure that was just because of the cold temperature of the drink.
“Thanks,” I muttered, uncapping the bottle and turning away, taking a small sip, suddenly not so thirsty. I squeezed my eyes shut for a brief moment, hoping that he would leave, hoping that when I spun back around, he’d be gone, but I knew he wouldn’t be.
Annoyed, I whipped around, glaring at him.
“Seriously,” I snapped quietly, not wanting to argue, because Matt was here, “Can I help you?”
I couldn’t stop my thoughts from wandering and remembering the last time we’d been in this room together. He’d grabbed my hand, stroked my cheek, said he hadn’t been sorry for almost kissing me, and worst of all—he’d called me beautiful. He’d called me beautiful.
Damn it.
Did I—?
“We need to talk,” he simply shrugged, and I rolled my eyes. That was all he seemed to be saying nowadays: we always needed to fucking talk, about everything. I was done with talking; I didn’t want to spend any more time with him, because, hell, if I did, I was sure that my feelings for him would grow. I just wasn’t sure if they were good or bad yet, and not knowing killed me.
“Matt’s here,” I told him, like he’d just gotten here, as though he hadn’t noticed, “I’m not talking with you while Matt is here, alright? I’m going back in there.”
Without another word I whipped around and strutted back into the living room, forcing myself to keep my chin up. I didn’t want him thinking that just being near him, in such a close proximity could get me all rattled up. Because it couldn’t.
His eyes couldn’t rattle me, or his scent—the wonderfully luscious, amazing smell of spearmint, something I’d always enjoyed. The way his hair curled perfectly couldn’t rattle me, and neither could his lips. No, his lips definitely could not throw me off at all…
They can’t.
I collapsed back onto the couch, sighing, and Matt eyed me, “You alright, Cass?”
“Peachy,” I grumbled, taking another long swig of my water, my eyes fixated on the television even though there was nothing playing.
I plunged my hand back into the near-empty popcorn bowl and shoved a good handful of the snack into my mouth, not caring about being impressive, just wishing that I could sort out all of the shit swirling inside of me, prodding me to make decisions that I didn’t even know if I wanted to make anymore.
“I’m tired,” he spoke up, rubbing his forehead. I looked at him, sipping my water again, and nodded, “Yeah, you should probably go home.”
Together we stood, and he brushed himself off before padding out of the living room and down the hall to the front entrance, me trailing after him and wanting to say goodbye.
Matt slipped on his shoes and turned to look at me, his eyes pleading.
“Don’t be too hard on him, please,” he begged quietly, and I cocked an eyebrow, completely confused, before realising that he was talking about Harry.
Fuck, why did everything have to do with Harry now? It really drove me insane, but I didn’t know if it was in a positive way.
I scoffed, raking my fingers through my hair. “I’m not promising shit,” I told him, and I pulled him in for a brief hug before letting him go, telling him, “I’ll see you later.”
He nodded firmly and stepped outside, and I sighed, closing the door and leaning my forehead against the cool wood, wishing that my life wasn’t suddenly so messed up. It had been messed up since the day I’d bumped into Harry, and I don’t think that it would ever go back to the way it was. I could only hope that it would.
Suddenly there was a crash from upstairs, and I whipped around, a breathless gasp escaping my lips. I ran upstairs, skipping the steps by three. When I got to the top, I looked around wildly, only to find my bedroom door ajar. A curse cut through the air, and I ran over to my room, arriving in the doorway.
“What the fuck are you doing up here?” I screamed, once my gaze landed on Harry. He didn’t respond; he only looked down at the ground with wide eyes, and within a second my gaze followed.
“No!” I screeched, and I bolted over to where the tiny glass shards lay, tears immediately making my eyes water.
In a moment, they were flowing down my cheeks and falling, dampening the carpeted floor of my room while I hurried to pick up all the tiny pieces of the picture frame. I knew I shouldn’t’ve left it out in the open on my dresser.
I dropped to my knees and cursed when I felt tiny glass pieces prick at the skin, and fumbled with the broken remnants of the picture frame—my picture frame. Pieces sliced at my skin, and within moments, my hands were an angry red colour, dotted with little specks of blood from the scrapes.
I muttered to myself, “No, no, no, no, no,” the whole while I was crying, begging for a way to fix this, a way to rewind time and keep this from happening.
“Cassidy I—,” Harry tried to say, and I whipped my head up to look at him, pursing my lips, my chin wobbling, remembering that he was here.
“Why would you do this?” I yelled at him, shooting to my feet and taking a step towards him, wincing as small shards dug into my feet. As though realising this, he looked down before looking back at me, his head bent down to my level.
“Stop moving,” he begged, “You’re just going to hurt yourself.”
“I don’t care!” I screamed at him, wiping at my eyes furiously with no avail; more tears just kept on coming. He ruined the photo; the most precious thing to me. The golden frame itself was lying on the floor; the picture of the family exposed and vulnerable, a small corner peeking out. Just looking at it made me cry even harder.
“I’m sorry,” he told me, his mouth popped open in a shocked ‘o’, “I was looking at it, and then I—I just dropped it, I don’t know. I’m so, so sorry.”
I sniffled, knowing my face was probably as red as a tomato, but I honestly couldn’t care less, “I hate you,” I told him in a sob, reaching out and shoving him away by his shoulders, “I hate you so much.”
I moved closer to him and batted at his chest with my fists, too overwhelmed to hit with my full capacity.
His chest was solid, and my half-hearted punches just bounced off effortlessly. Glass crunched under my feet and I screamed an incoherent noise at him, just wishing that I could curl up into a fetal position and die. That was all I wanted to do. I wanted to die.
“Oh my God,” I sobbed, my face contorting as I covered it with my hands, “No, no, no, no.”
Then I was back to hitting him; or at least trying to do some damage. His hands lashed out to wrap around my wrists, and I tried to yank them out of his grip, but he held on tightly. Despite my weak efforts, I eventually just gave up, letting my arms go limp. He brought my hands up to his face and studied them, before—literally happening in a second—he wrapped them around his neck and scooped me up bridal-style.
Too surprised and exhausted and completely depressed to move, I continued to cry as he stepped over the glass, easing us down onto my bed lightly. I gripped fistfuls of his shirt and pressed my face into his neck, wetting his skin, but he didn’t complain about it.
“I hate you,” I sobbed, squeezing my eyes shut.
I felt him nod, “I know,” he whispered brokenly, and he slowly inched his way along my bed, eventually reaching my pillows.
Untangling my body from his, he laid us down, before pulling me back to him, wrapping his arms around my waist. I buried my face into his chest, crying uncontrollably. In the short, choppy breaths that I was able to take, I smelled spearmint.
“Please don’t cry,” Harry whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
But I continued to bawl, occasionally making strangled sounds as I fought for breath. He set his chin on the crown of my head, breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling rapidly while my head was laid upon it. I brought my hands up to my chest, curling them under my chin and willing myself not to touch him; I hated him so much.
“I’m sorry,” he kept breathing to me, trying to express just how apologetic he was, but I wasn’t listening; I couldn’t take this anymore.
I cried harder and harder, and he secured his arms around me, moving them to envelope me in a tight embrace, his face now ducked down near my ear.
“I know,” he breathed, exhaling shakily, “I’m so sorry.”
He kissed the shell of my ear, making me shiver, a bolt of electricity racing down my spine; I forced myself not to let it show. He squeezed me tighter, pulling me—impossibly—closer, all the while tears poured down my face, wetting everything.
“I’m sorry.”
“So…” Matt stared over at me, saying the word quietly so that Harry wouldn’t hear. The movie had just finished playing, and there was a half-empty popcorn bowl smuggled into my lap; every so often I take a large handful of popcorn out and shove it in my mouth.
Matt was sitting beside me, his arm wrapped around my shoulder as I leaned on him. Harry had been sitting on the other couch, but now, he was lying down, his legs hanging off of the arm, and snoring lightly. He’d fallen asleep. Matt had told me to let him come inside, just so that he didn’t feel excluded. I’d reluctantly agreed.
“What?” I nudged him, making sure that I didn’t wake the sleeping boy.
He smirked at me, “I saw his arm around your waist at the airport. What was that all about?”
I made a low exasperated noise, rolling my eyes at his suggestiveness.
He chuckled quietly as I explained, “He was getting a lot of female attention,” even as the words came out of my mouth I scoffed, “So he wanted me to just play along.”
I put the last words in air quotes, sighing and munching on some more popcorn.
“I see,” Matt sounded inquisitive, but he couldn’t stop a grin from breaking through, and I just stuck my tongue out at him, wishing that he’d stop with all this bullshit.
“Shut up, you know it’s true,” I elbowed him in the ribs, and he let out a strangled sound, which was oddly high-pitched. I broke out into loud laughs, immediately waking Harry, who sat bolt upright, not used to being awaken so abruptly. His reaction just made me throw my head back and laugh harder, not caring anymore.
“Cassidy,” Matt scolded me playfully, “You woke him.”
“What—me?” I asked, my eyes widening teasingly. I smacked his arm before smiling and resting my head back on his shoulder, “You’re the one that squealed.”
“Only because you hurt me,” he grumbled like a toddler, dramatically rubbing the spot of his ribs where I’d elbowed him.
I laughed again before shooting a glance over at Harry. His entire torso was tense, his eyes hard and watching the playful banter between Matt and I intently. I shook my head, not bothering trying to figure him out, because I knew I’d just end up lost, as usual.
However, his gaze landed on me and stayed there, burning a hole into the side of my head. I pretended not to notice, continuing to argue childishly with Matt, but eventually I couldn’t help but to feel uncomfortable.
“I’m going to get a drink,” I announced abruptly, standing up. Matt crinkled his eyebrows questioningly but I just shrugged, “Want anything?”
“I’m good thanks,” he told me, and I quickly nodded, turning on my heel and making my way out of the kitchen as quickly as I could, avoiding Harry’s intent gaze as I passed.
I hurried into the kitchen, making my way over to the fridge and opening it, emitting a soft sigh. I peered around the small cold compartment for a moment before deciding nonchalantly on a plastic water bottle. I reached into the fridge and cussed lightly as I realised it was at the very back, on the highest shelf.
Standing on my toes, my fingers just brushed up along the plastic, and I groaned.
Suddenly, I felt a warm feeling appear behind me, and another arm snaked over my shoulder, reaching up and plucking the bottle neatly off of the shelf. I let out a tiny, barely audible gasp and spun around, slightly surprised.
He was standing there, holding the bottle in his left hand like it was nothing.
I gritted my teeth silently and crossed my arms over my chest, “That’s mine.”
Harry looked at it, surprised—as though he just realised that he was holding it—and held out his hand, indicating that I should take it. I narrowed my eyes at him, waiting for him to wrench his arm back and yell out, “Psych!” but it never came.
I quickly lashed out, grabbing the water from his grasp, our fingers brushing as I did so. My fingers tingled, but I’m sure that was just because of the cold temperature of the drink.
“Thanks,” I muttered, uncapping the bottle and turning away, taking a small sip, suddenly not so thirsty. I squeezed my eyes shut for a brief moment, hoping that he would leave, hoping that when I spun back around, he’d be gone, but I knew he wouldn’t be.
Annoyed, I whipped around, glaring at him.
“Seriously,” I snapped quietly, not wanting to argue, because Matt was here, “Can I help you?”
I couldn’t stop my thoughts from wandering and remembering the last time we’d been in this room together. He’d grabbed my hand, stroked my cheek, said he hadn’t been sorry for almost kissing me, and worst of all—he’d called me beautiful. He’d called me beautiful.
Damn it.
Did I—?
“We need to talk,” he simply shrugged, and I rolled my eyes. That was all he seemed to be saying nowadays: we always needed to fucking talk, about everything. I was done with talking; I didn’t want to spend any more time with him, because, hell, if I did, I was sure that my feelings for him would grow. I just wasn’t sure if they were good or bad yet, and not knowing killed me.
“Matt’s here,” I told him, like he’d just gotten here, as though he hadn’t noticed, “I’m not talking with you while Matt is here, alright? I’m going back in there.”
Without another word I whipped around and strutted back into the living room, forcing myself to keep my chin up. I didn’t want him thinking that just being near him, in such a close proximity could get me all rattled up. Because it couldn’t.
His eyes couldn’t rattle me, or his scent—the wonderfully luscious, amazing smell of spearmint, something I’d always enjoyed. The way his hair curled perfectly couldn’t rattle me, and neither could his lips. No, his lips definitely could not throw me off at all…
They can’t.
I collapsed back onto the couch, sighing, and Matt eyed me, “You alright, Cass?”
“Peachy,” I grumbled, taking another long swig of my water, my eyes fixated on the television even though there was nothing playing.
I plunged my hand back into the near-empty popcorn bowl and shoved a good handful of the snack into my mouth, not caring about being impressive, just wishing that I could sort out all of the shit swirling inside of me, prodding me to make decisions that I didn’t even know if I wanted to make anymore.
“I’m tired,” he spoke up, rubbing his forehead. I looked at him, sipping my water again, and nodded, “Yeah, you should probably go home.”
Together we stood, and he brushed himself off before padding out of the living room and down the hall to the front entrance, me trailing after him and wanting to say goodbye.
Matt slipped on his shoes and turned to look at me, his eyes pleading.
“Don’t be too hard on him, please,” he begged quietly, and I cocked an eyebrow, completely confused, before realising that he was talking about Harry.
Fuck, why did everything have to do with Harry now? It really drove me insane, but I didn’t know if it was in a positive way.
I scoffed, raking my fingers through my hair. “I’m not promising shit,” I told him, and I pulled him in for a brief hug before letting him go, telling him, “I’ll see you later.”
He nodded firmly and stepped outside, and I sighed, closing the door and leaning my forehead against the cool wood, wishing that my life wasn’t suddenly so messed up. It had been messed up since the day I’d bumped into Harry, and I don’t think that it would ever go back to the way it was. I could only hope that it would.
Suddenly there was a crash from upstairs, and I whipped around, a breathless gasp escaping my lips. I ran upstairs, skipping the steps by three. When I got to the top, I looked around wildly, only to find my bedroom door ajar. A curse cut through the air, and I ran over to my room, arriving in the doorway.
“What the fuck are you doing up here?” I screamed, once my gaze landed on Harry. He didn’t respond; he only looked down at the ground with wide eyes, and within a second my gaze followed.
“No!” I screeched, and I bolted over to where the tiny glass shards lay, tears immediately making my eyes water.
In a moment, they were flowing down my cheeks and falling, dampening the carpeted floor of my room while I hurried to pick up all the tiny pieces of the picture frame. I knew I shouldn’t’ve left it out in the open on my dresser.
I dropped to my knees and cursed when I felt tiny glass pieces prick at the skin, and fumbled with the broken remnants of the picture frame—my picture frame. Pieces sliced at my skin, and within moments, my hands were an angry red colour, dotted with little specks of blood from the scrapes.
I muttered to myself, “No, no, no, no, no,” the whole while I was crying, begging for a way to fix this, a way to rewind time and keep this from happening.
“Cassidy I—,” Harry tried to say, and I whipped my head up to look at him, pursing my lips, my chin wobbling, remembering that he was here.
“Why would you do this?” I yelled at him, shooting to my feet and taking a step towards him, wincing as small shards dug into my feet. As though realising this, he looked down before looking back at me, his head bent down to my level.
“Stop moving,” he begged, “You’re just going to hurt yourself.”
“I don’t care!” I screamed at him, wiping at my eyes furiously with no avail; more tears just kept on coming. He ruined the photo; the most precious thing to me. The golden frame itself was lying on the floor; the picture of the family exposed and vulnerable, a small corner peeking out. Just looking at it made me cry even harder.
“I’m sorry,” he told me, his mouth popped open in a shocked ‘o’, “I was looking at it, and then I—I just dropped it, I don’t know. I’m so, so sorry.”
I sniffled, knowing my face was probably as red as a tomato, but I honestly couldn’t care less, “I hate you,” I told him in a sob, reaching out and shoving him away by his shoulders, “I hate you so much.”
I moved closer to him and batted at his chest with my fists, too overwhelmed to hit with my full capacity.
His chest was solid, and my half-hearted punches just bounced off effortlessly. Glass crunched under my feet and I screamed an incoherent noise at him, just wishing that I could curl up into a fetal position and die. That was all I wanted to do. I wanted to die.
“Oh my God,” I sobbed, my face contorting as I covered it with my hands, “No, no, no, no.”
Then I was back to hitting him; or at least trying to do some damage. His hands lashed out to wrap around my wrists, and I tried to yank them out of his grip, but he held on tightly. Despite my weak efforts, I eventually just gave up, letting my arms go limp. He brought my hands up to his face and studied them, before—literally happening in a second—he wrapped them around his neck and scooped me up bridal-style.
Too surprised and exhausted and completely depressed to move, I continued to cry as he stepped over the glass, easing us down onto my bed lightly. I gripped fistfuls of his shirt and pressed my face into his neck, wetting his skin, but he didn’t complain about it.
“I hate you,” I sobbed, squeezing my eyes shut.
I felt him nod, “I know,” he whispered brokenly, and he slowly inched his way along my bed, eventually reaching my pillows.
Untangling my body from his, he laid us down, before pulling me back to him, wrapping his arms around my waist. I buried my face into his chest, crying uncontrollably. In the short, choppy breaths that I was able to take, I smelled spearmint.
“Please don’t cry,” Harry whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
But I continued to bawl, occasionally making strangled sounds as I fought for breath. He set his chin on the crown of my head, breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling rapidly while my head was laid upon it. I brought my hands up to my chest, curling them under my chin and willing myself not to touch him; I hated him so much.
“I’m sorry,” he kept breathing to me, trying to express just how apologetic he was, but I wasn’t listening; I couldn’t take this anymore.
I cried harder and harder, and he secured his arms around me, moving them to envelope me in a tight embrace, his face now ducked down near my ear.
“I know,” he breathed, exhaling shakily, “I’m so sorry.”
He kissed the shell of my ear, making me shiver, a bolt of electricity racing down my spine; I forced myself not to let it show. He squeezed me tighter, pulling me—impossibly—closer, all the while tears poured down my face, wetting everything.
“I’m sorry.”
Notes
I really liked writing this! She didn't stop Harry from doing any of that! We're getting somewhere people! In the second-next chapter, there will be some #Hassidy action (can I even call it that?) :pAnywho, VOTE, COMMENT, and SUBSCRIBE! Please, please, please! I really want to make it to 50 votes, that's why I've updated twice in a row for you guys! Keep commenting too! I love it when you do! Shout-out to @Mimi_Bell!
Random facts craze!!!
Babies are born without knee caps. They don't appear until the child reaches 2-6 years of age!
The Bible, the world's best-selling book, is also the world's most shoplifted book!
In every episode of Seinfeld, there is a Superman somewhere!
~Stay sweet~
I haven't forgotten about this story. Please update soon!!
10/25/15