oh, anna [-hs]

cruel

a/n TRIGGER WARNING: body shaming, self image

45.

Four days later and I'm back in New York.

Honestly, I'm thankful for a bit of space. It felt like Harry and I were walking a tightrope, dangerously leaning over the edge of a cliff to see what's at the bottom.

If we're on different sides of the country, we can't have a conversation that scares either of us, right?

I can't stop thinking over everything that happened in LA. Filming the music video, seeing Mitch and Sarah, the beach, the wedding. I can't stop thinking about the walls we tore down. I can't stop thinking about his sleepy confession, his declaration of love.

I can't stop thinking about the way he stilled every muscle in my body, the way my heart raced as he looked at me and sang during the reception soundcheck. It felt so natural for him, so commanding. He was the only thing of value to me at that moment. It was just him, stretching on through the vastness of space for eternity.

I can't stop thinking about him.

It's a good thing I have therapy today. Boy, do I need it.

I pull Emma's car over and park along the street. To my right is a small, brick building with a striped yellow awning. I smile and step out of the car, circling the keys around my fingers. With a few quick steps, I hop onto the sidewalk and dance into the cafe.

The familiar smell of coffee and baked goods hits me. I grin.

Ahh, Beachwood. I missed you.

Kate looks up from her phone, chewing aimlessly on her lip. She brightens when she recognizes me.

"Quinn," the phone lands on the counter with a thud and she wipes her hands across the front of her apron. "How are you? Is Harry here?"

I shake my head, taking another step in and glancing over the glass display of pastries. "Slow today?" I murmur. Kate laughs.

"Yeah I don't know, it's been slow all week."

I hum in disapproval, my eyes trained hungrily on a raspberry muffin.

"What can I get you?"

I point to the muffin and she nods. "And a latte."

"What are you up to today?" She takes out the muffin with a pair of silver tongs. I watch her set in on a paper bag and slide it across the counter to me. I shrug.

"Therapy." She nods and grabs a to go cup from the stack. She knows I always use a to go cup. I reach for my wallet but she tuts and waves her hand.

"On the house, friend," she smiles and flicks a switch. The shrill sound of the steamer screams between us. I wince a little, but nod graciously and put my money back. "So," she speaks louder now, concentrating on the task before her. "I'm excited to see you guys for Halloween."

I totally forgot about that.

I bite my lip and nod, pretending to brighten at her words. My hands reach for the muffin and bring it to my mouth. "Yeah, it should be fun."

"Thank you again, I appreciate you lending me your place," she smiles shyly.

I freeze, mid-muffin mouth.

"What?" I ask hesitantly. Her eyes widen.

"Oh my God, did Emma not tell you?" She gasps and flicks off the steaming machine, leaving us in uncomfortable silence. "I thought she talked to you about it. She said it was okay. Oh my God," she blurts, holding the small pitcher of steaming milk in her hand.