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Chapter 103

Running through the heat heartbeat
You shine like silver in the sunlight
You light up my whole heart
It feels right in the sun
We're running around
Like nothing else could matter in our life

— Kodaline, Love Like This (Acoustic)

. . . .

Waking up the next morning, the rest of the bed is messy with Harry out of sight. I expected us to wake up in the morning, work out our argument from last night, and stay in bed for the rest of the day, but I see that isn't going to happen.

Boxes are still scattered everywhere in the room as I try to maneuver out to the living room with several articles of clothing and random objects lying around. The tv's on, but Harry's standing in the kitchen with his back turned towards me. He has something cooking in a pan on the stove and coffee dripping in the pot. He doesn't notice me when I walk out, but he turns around when he hears the barstool legs scrape against the wood floor.

However, when he does face me, his face settles into a frown and he turns his back on me again. He sighs and scratches his side underneath his white t-shirt.

"Hey," I say softly as I unintentionally pick at my nails.

"Hi." His reply is short and to the point. He keeps his body turned away from me as he continues cooking whatever he's making.

"Harry, I'm sorry about last night. I don't know why I said that especially when I know how shitty your relationship has been with him. It wasn't fair to you, and I'm sorry."

"You know, Violet, I am pissed about what you said, but it's how easily it came out of your mouth that's infuriating me."

"I wasn't thinking. I was mad about what you were saying about my father, and it slipped. We always seem to do this, you know. We're always around one another; therefore, we know what gets under the others' skin, and we use that as a dig at one another. You use your hatred for my dad, and I used the poor relationship you had with your dad against you. It's not right, and we both know that."

He looks at me, the darkness under his eyes creates the sullen expression on his face. His hair is wild from a restless night of sleep, and his shirt has tiny wrinkles throughout the pale material. Quietly, he says, "I don't want to fight when we only have a few days left together."

"I'm sorry again."

"Come here."

I hop off of my stool and circle around the counter to his awaiting opened arms. His arms loop around me entirely and he kisses the side of my head. He whispers that he loves me then kisses my lips several times.

"Harry," I say as he's making out with my neck and cheeks. He mumbles a "mhm" and I answer with, "Your food's going to burn."

"Shit, thanks," he pulls away and turns to the stove to move the pan aside. "Do you want me to make you anything? I'll try not to almost burn it this time."

"I'm just going to have coffee."

"Alright. I need to talk to you about something. It's nothing serious, don't worry." He pours me some coffee into a mug and puts my sugar in it then makes his own. He sits down beside me on the stools at the counter and starts eating his almost burnt omelet.

"What?"

"I have an interview next Monday."

"I hope you get it and it ends up being better than Carnell."

"Thank you."

"I'm going to take a shower if you want to join me when you're done with your breakfast."