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Chapter 25

You kept me like a secret
But I kept you like an oath

- Taylor Swift, All Too Well (10 Minute Version) (Taylor's Version)

. . . .

Constant pounding at the front door is what broke me from my peaceful sleep on the couch after Harris left an hour before. I shove the knitted blanket away from my body and stroll over to the front door, twisting the lock and yanking the door open.

Harry's standing on the welcome mat in simple jeans and a black shirt. With a small smile and a glance over his shoulder, he gently pushes himself past me and into the house.

"Hey, Vi." With hands held firmly to my waist and his spongy lips stick themselves to mine, he positions me against the door and swivels his tongue in a circle around the perimeter of mine. "Your dad's not home is he?"

"No," I respond. "He's still gone with the twins."

"I'm ready to go when you are."

"Well," I look down at my sweatpants and jumper.

"You look very cute." He follows behind me as we climb to the top of the stairs.

"Should I dress casually?"

"It doesn't matter to me." He lies down on the bed and turns the volume off of its mute on the TV.

"Well, it does to me. Since you're wearing jeans and a T-shirt, then so will I." I ruffle through the top drawer of the dresser and search through the limited clothing dad packed for me.

Once I'm dressed, I switch off the TV then pull him down the steps with me. Instead of his car being parked in the driveway, it's parked alongside the curb.

While we're on the road, he takes an exit leading out of the town and through a small neighborhood that just guides us to another freeway. His soft music plays in the background and the small thumps from the pads of his fingers on the center of the steering wheel are the only audible noises besides the engine of the car.

An idea suddenly sprung into my mind and I turn towards Harry. I see his eye move to the corner of the socket then he finally moves his head to face me.

"What?" he asks.

"I've never driven before."

"Yes, and?"

"Can I drive your car? Like now?"

"Hell no! This is my baby...aside from my actual baby. I'm not having you crash it into a light post or something."

"Please?"

"My final answer is no."

. . . .

"Okay. This is the gear shifter. That–is the gas pedal and that one's the brake. Please remember which one's the brake," he instructs, then clicks his seat belt into place, holding onto the handle beside his head.

It took a lot of persuading, but he finally cracked after I promised a good ten minute back massage and a few gropes here and there once we are alone at his house the next time. It didn't take much whining and begging because once I slipped my top down to expose some cleavage, we finally compromised.

I shift the gear to drive then slowly roll forward through the deserted parking lot of a rundown factory.

I get the hang of it a few turns, stops, and turn signals later. He instructs me to reverse into a parking spot then to another and another. I eventually do the opposite by sharply turning throughout the bumpy parking lot. I accidentally slam on the breaks when a small bird flies in front of the car.