~Cassidy~

As I laughed at Matt’s pathetic attempt to play SuperMario Bros on the Wii the next day, I couldn’t help but to let my mind trail back to yesterday, with Harry.

He’d been really cute. It was like he was nervous, and he didn’t know what to say, since I’d initiated the conversation, something I’d never done before. Usually he was cool and collected and was the one teasing, but seeing it from the opposite perspective made me understand why he enjoyed doing so; it was pretty adorable when he got all flustered and didn’t know what to say.

And then he’d just started spouting random facts about roses. I’d been holding in such a laugh.He probably had no idea what he was saying, and I was pretty sure that he was beating himself up on the inside. I felt kind of bad though, and honestly, I found it endearing, so I’d helped him to create a conversation.

Looking back, I’m scared I came off as desperate. I mean, come on, I’d initiated the conversation. I never did that. I was actually smiling around him. For some reason now, I couldn’t help but to smile whenever I saw him. This whole twist in my personality was change, and I hated change.

I’m so bipolar.

“Fuck!” Matt yelled as Mario treaded on a Goomba, immediately freezing and falling down off of the screen. He slapped his leg and I laughed, scooting closer to him.

“Matt, those are like, the easiest guys to kill!” I managed to get out in between laughs. He glared playfully at me.

“This is a hard game!” he defended, and then shoved the Wii remote into my hands, declaring, “You try!”

So I did, pressing the A button and immediately beginning a new game.

As I played, I couldn’t help but to shoot him smug smiles whenever I jumped over a trench or dodged or killed a small villain. Matt just crossed his arms, leaning back on the couch and shooting evil looks at the television, rolling his eyes whenever I managed to catch a power-up.

Sucker.

I made it to the end of the level without losing a single life, and while Mario jumped onto the large black Bowser flag and slid down, I cocked an eyebrow at Matt, tossing the Wii remote back to him in a smug fashion.

“No fair,” he grumbled, “I don’t have this game at home. You’ve probably had a lot more practice.”

I shrugged, “Don’t hate the player; hate the game.”

He flipped me the finger, and I laughed again, falling back onto the couch. He laughed along too, but then reached for the television remote and flicked the screen off, making it go dark.

“Want to get a snack?” he asked, and I rolled my eyes, scoffing, “Well, considering that you’ve already shut the TV off, I guess I’ll have to.” He chuckled and we stood, walking into the kitchen.

I pulled out a large bowl from my cupboard while he sat at the table. “What’s going on with you?” he questioned curiously.

I turned to him with a confused expression adorning my face. “What do you mean?” I asked as I opened the pantry door and pulled out a large bag of barbecue chips. I walked back over to the counter, where the bowl lay, and ripped open the bag, pouring all of the contents into it.

“I can’t exactly explain it,” Matt said, looking like he was genuinely trying, “You’re just…different, I guess. Like, you’re not swearing at me every five seconds anymore.”

“Oh fuck off,” I waved away his worries, making us both chuckle.

He quickly turned serious though, “It’s true, Cass. Is there something wrong? Did Harry do something?”

At the mention of Harry, I tensed slightly, but hoped that Matt didn’t notice. I tried to pass off my pause by walking over to the fridge and opening it, “Water, juice, or beer?”

“Beer, obviously,” he scoffed, making me crack a smile. I grabbed water for myself and brought both drinks and the chip bowl to the table sliding down into a chair opposite of Matt. Quickly I grabbed a few chips in my palm, munching them and hoping that Matt wouldn’t keep pressing the subject.

But he did.

“You still haven’t answered,” he stated, looking at me expectantly.

I slouched back on my chair, letting out an exasperated gasp, “God, Matt, it’s nothing! Don’t worry. So what, I don’t swear that much anymore? Who cares?”

“I care, Cass,” he fought back. I sighed as grabbed some more chips as he continued, “It’s not just that. You seem…softer now. Not that I’m complaining of course, but I just want to know why, that’s all.”

“Maybe I’ve had a change of heart,” I mumbled half-heartedly, shoving some more chips into my mouth. Matt chuckled, knowing that wasn’t the case at all, but I wasn’t actually going to tell him what had been responsible for all of this—who had been responsible.

“Everything is fine, Matt,” I assured him, and then leaned forward, ruffling his hair.

He swore and tried rearranging it back to the way it was, but to no avail; while I giggled and added, “But thank you for caring.”

“Harry didn’t do anything?” he questioned suspiciously, his eyes narrowing. On one hand, I was touched that he cared so much, but I was also really starting to get nervous, knowing that sooner or later, I’d slip up. But I just shook my head, shooting him a small smile.

“No, Matt. Harry has absolutely nothing to do with this.”

That marked the second time I’d lied to Matt.

~*~

The next day, I was lying on my bed, my stomach pressed against the mattress, reading a book. Except this time, the story couldn’t keep my interest. I kept finding that my mind was always wandering back to Harry.

It was annoying. This man seemed to have taken over my entire life, consuming every moment of my day. Then I jolted, wondering if he was thinking the same things about me. But even thought I was constantly thinking about him, I didn’t exactly want to stop. I wanted to know what he was doing, if he was thinking about me too.

My body acted of its own accord, slipping off of the bed and walking over to my window. I pulled up the blinds, peering at Harry’s house and wondering if he was in his room.

He was.

He wore black skinny jeans—as usual—a white V-neck t-shirt, and a black bandanna was resting comfortably in his head, pushing away any hair from his forehead. He was sitting on his bed, holding his guitar in his lap, a notepad and pencil lying on the duvet beside him.

Every so often, he would strum a few chords, either shaking his head afterwards, pursing his lips, or jotting down something on the paper. When he did that, I noticed that he put his guitar pick in between his teeth, one of his hands grasping the pencil, the other keeping a firm hold of the neck of the guitar.

It was hot, to say the least.

He turned back to the instrument, tuning it, and looked up, directly at me. I shot away from the window, hiding behind the wall beside it, praying to God that he hadn’t seen me. After a minute or two, I risked a small glance to peek, only to find that he was still there, staring at me, a small smirk playing on his lips.

Fuck, I was blushing.

I tried to smile back, hoping that I did. He bit at his lip, still smiling, and cocked his head to the side, gesturing something. I realised that he wanted me to go outside. I threw my thumb over my shoulder in a silent question, and he laughed, nodding.

Still blushing fiercely, I grabbed the string of the blinds and pulled them down hastily, leaning against the wall and catching my breath.

God, that was embarrassing.

I momentarily debated whether I should meet him or not. I was very embarrassed, fuck, who wouldn’t be? He probably thought I was a creep.

But then I realised that he’d been smiling at me, so I inhaled deeply and decided to just be brave and go out. I was down the stairs, slipping on my flip flops in no time, before making a face and deciding to go with my black Converse instead. They were much more comfortable.

I pushed some hair away from my face as I opened the door, padding down the steps. Harry was already outside, standing in front of the steps of my porch, his hands clasped behind his back, looking down at the ground, kicking at it nervously. When he heard me come out, his face whipped up to look at me, shooting me a charming smile.

I closed the door behind me.

“Hi,” I said slowly, walking down the steps towards him. His eyes were even brighter than usual, it seemed, and his smile seemed to grow—impossibly—wider. He stepped back, giving me room to walk, and said, “Hi.”

“What’s up?” I turned to him, folding my arms over my chest. He smiled, “Want to go to the park?”

I did a double take. He was asking me to go to the park?

“You do know that you’re twenty years old, right?” I questioned him, fighting a smile.

“And you’re nineteen,” he shot back, “So why not?”

I just shrugged, deciding to give in, not only because he looked slightly hopeful, but because my brain, my heart and my body was screaming the exact same message: yes!

“Let’s go,” I said, and then turned away, beginning to walk. He chuckled from behind me and jogged to catch up, eventually slowing and matching my pace. The park wasn’t far; only
about half a mile, and truth be told, it was pretty big. This was a residential area after all, with lots of kids; some endearing, some super annoying.

“Have you been to this park yet?” I asked him, looking over.

He was taller than me, so I had to tilt my head up slightly. He squinted in the sunlight, the wind blowing his hair slightly, making me swallow heavily. I wasn’t supposed to want to kiss him; I just had to remember that.

I still needed time to think, but seeing him so often and even not seeing him only made my craving to spend time with him grow, made my lips almost ache when I thought about them being pressed against his. This wasn’t helping, but I couldn’t say no, because a part of me knew that this little outing could potentially end in a kiss, and I desperately hoped it would, despite all of my previous thinking.

But I’m not supposed to hope for that. Fucking hell.

“No,” he told me, shaking his head lightly, “But I’ve driven past it. I’ve wanted to check it out for a while now.”

I nodded, pursing my lips, before smiling up at him, “I’ll race you there.”

Before he could even agree, I was off, sprinting away from him and down the street. I heard him yell, “Hey!” behind me, and I laughed.

The park slowly came into view, and noted the people that were already there. Huddled around the swings was a group of teenage girls, looking to be about seventeen years old. A mother was standing beside a small slide, encouraging her little boy to slide down, promising she’d catch him at the bottom. A boy and a girl—probably siblings—were playing atop the structure, and the girl slid down the pole, yelling something to the boy and running away. He followed her, trying to catch her.

I made it to the park first, despite Harry’s long legs, but he wasn’t that far off.

When I stopped, breathing heavily, I spun around to catch a glimpse of him. He was only ten feet away, and I expected him to stop in front of me, but he just kept running. I was starting to freak out, thinking that he’d crash into me, and I shrieked, but he just bulldozed through, managing to duck and wrap his arms around my legs, and hoisting me up over his back.

“Harry!” I laughed, slapping his back and trying to get him to release me. He ran around crazily with me still mounted on him for a few moments before finally stopping and bending down, letting me slide off. I immediately shoved at his shoulders, catching him a bit off-balance, and he stumbled back.

“Don’t do that!” I yelled at him, too caught up in my laughter to sound properly pissed. He came at me for more, and I stepped back, holding up my hands, “No, stop, stop.”

He simply grinned widely at me before reaching for my hand and twining our fingers together. My eyes widened as I looked down, about to tell him that this wasn’t exactly going slow and that I still needed to think about things, but then I heard a snicker coming from behind me.

I peeked over my shoulder, only to find the girls who’d been huddled around the swings staring at Harry and me. There were four of them, two blondes, one brunette, and one girl with copper coloured hair. The blondes looked to be twins, same facial features, same ocean blue eyes, and the brunette had cocoa coloured skin. The ginger was pale and had freckles. Their gazes were fixed on us, making me a bit uncomfortable.

Harry leaned down, whispering in my ear, “Let them stare.”

He then proceeded to press a kiss to the side of my head, making me shiver. I had a feeling that he was only doing that to flaunt—whatever this was—and that he wouldn’t actually be doing that, had there not been people here that were making me uncomfortable. I think this was his way of calming me. And I didn’t mind one bit.

“Let’s go on the monkeybars,” Harry told me, smiling childishly, making me snort. He ran off, winking at me as he did so, and I laughed, following him.

I could see the group of girls staring at him shamelessly.

Yes, I know ladies, he’s cute.

Now back the fuck off.

I rolled my eyes as I reached the monkeybars, Harry trying desperately to swing on them, but he could touch the floor, so it was really no use. I burst into laughs as he curled his legs so that they weren’t touching the ground and tried to swing, but his body mass was too much for his arms. He was barely able to grasp the next bar.

“It’s not going to work, trust me,” I assured him as he uncurled his legs and made his way back to the start. He scoffed, sticking out his tongue, making me smile. I simply turned away, walking over to the play structure and began climbing up a small ladder.

When I got to the top, I leaned over the railing and called out, “Harry!”

“Hm?” he looked up from his position on the bars and then grinned, immediately dropping his hands and running over to where I was, jumping up. His feet latched onto the platform below the railing, and he gripped the rod tightly, finding his balance. He was only about five feet above the ground, and he leaned over so that his face was close to mine.

I would’ve pushed him away, but the smell of spearmint was just so intoxicating.

He smirked, “Yes?”

I closed my eyes for a moment before having them fly back open, and teased him, taking a step back, “I’m surprised you managed such a jump in those pants,” I mocked, referring to his skin-tight jeans. He narrowed his eyes playfully at me, trying to reach for me, but I stepped back again.

“Be grateful I’m on this side,” he warned, “Or I would pick you up again.”

I pretended to shiver and we both laughed, him eventually climbing over the railing and hopping onto my side. I let my eyes flash to the girls, only to find that they were huddled in a conversation. Something about the way they peeked over at us made my stomach lurch. I remembered that this was why I didn’t have any girlfriends. Too much drama.

I sat down on a nearby slide and slid down, turning and watching how Harry fought to duck under the small roof of it and follow. I laughed, “It’s not easy being tall, huh?”

“You have no idea,” he grunted, and I smiled deviously as he finally wedged his legs through, proceeding to slide down, only to get stuck half-way. I erupted into laughs, while he just shook out his hair and swore, standing up on the slide and walking down the rest of the way.

At the bottom he reached out for me again, no doubt to try and heft me back over his shoulders, but I teetered away before he found a hold.

“No way!” I exclaimed, flipping him the finger, and proceeded to run away again, him yelling after me.

“What a loser,” someone giggled behind me, and I turned around, only to find that same group of girls smirking at me.

“She’s so ugly, too,” the ginger added. Even though they weren’t making it obvious, I knew they were talking about me. My face immediately fell, but I stopped, putting my hands on my hips, about to open my mouth to say something rude back. They wanted to play with fire?

Fine.

But before I could, someone beat me to it.

“Excuse me?” a deep, accented voice said from behind me, and I turned around, only to find Harry there.

I was about to tell him not to worry, but he stepped closer to them, wrapping an arm around my waist. The girls looked shocked that he was speaking to them, but he continued nonetheless.

“I don’t appreciate you saying that about her,” he said, his eyes hard. I wanted to scream at him to stop. On one hand, I was touched that he was standing up for me like this, but I was also annoyed. We weren’t dating, so he didn’t have to protect me. I could fight my own battles without having him interfere, as I’d done countless times before.

“That was quite rude,” he stated, and I gripped his abnormally large hand, pulling him away. He questioned me, asking where we were going, but I just shook my head, dragging him back along the way we’d come. He kept inquiring, but I was too angry to speak to him.

I didn’t need him to do that for me. I could’ve handled that situation perfectly by myself. God, why did he feel the need to protect me from everything? It was because I’d been too vulnerable around him, wasn’t it?

Fuck, I knew that being weak would have consequences, and I didn’t like them at all.

Finally, I pulled him up the steps of my porch, pushing the door open and walking inside. He followed hesitantly, like he didn’t know if I wanted him to come in or not, but I think his curiosity got the better of him. I spun around to face him, folding my arms over my chest.

“What the hell was that, Harry?” I asked him, frowning. He looked confused, “What? I was defending you.”

“I don’t need you to defend me,” I notified him sassily, watching as his brow creased. Fuck, why did I want to kiss him now? Was this normal?

“Cassidy,” he said sternly, “They were being bitches.”

This was only making me more furious. I wasn’t a little kid; I wasn’t weak or vulnerable, but that’s all I’d been feeling since Harry stepped into the picture. I felt as though it was finally time to show him that I didn’t need him every minute of every day. I wasn’t helpless, I was sassy and fiery, and I was independent.

“I know that,” I snapped, “But I don’t need your help, okay? You’re not my boyfriend!”

That last part slipped out. I didn’t mean for it to fall past my lips, but it had, and there was no use in taking it back now. Harry—who’d been running his fingers through his hair—froze, staring at me, hurt present in his meadow green eyes. I looked away, slightly ashamed that I’d said that, but a small part of me wasn’t sorry. He wasn’t my boyfriend; I thought he knew that.

“You’re right,” he said quietly, shaking his head and chuckling dryly to himself, “I’m not. I’m sorry.”

I watched soundlessly as he turned on his heel, and stepped back through the door, gripping the knob and closing it after him. I stood in the front entrance, completely shocked; I didn’t know what to say, so speechless that I couldn’t even form a coherent thought.

I was all alone. As I always was.

Notes

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