Bad Friend

6- Don't Even Know

"Do you need to hold my hand?"

"No."

Harry grinned. "It's okay if you do. It's natural to be nervous. A little scared, even."

"Shut up. I'm fine," I hissed at him, but we both saw the way my hand had a white knuckle grip on the armchair.

"You don't sound fine," Harry sing-songed, his eyes full of mirth.

I rolled my eyes at him. "Are you sure this isn't some play at getting me to hold your hand?" I asked him, trying to take my focus off the fact that I was about to have a hole poked through my septum.

"Oh, that's definitely what this is," he said, moving around my piercer, a big burly guy with surprisingly deft hands and a gentle touch. Taking my hand in his, Harry pressed our joined hands to his heart. He heaved a dramatic sigh. "Oh, Gwenneth. Long have I pined for your affection and the chance to show you how splendid love can be. Won't you please hold my hand and embark on the journey of love with me?"

"That's not even my real name, dumbass," I mumbled, trying to hide my grin and red cheeks. Shaking my head, I finally gave in and let myself hold his hand while I got this done. I heard Dave make a noise that sounded like some sort of mix between a cough, a laugh, and a wheeze as he cleaned his tools. Before I could ask him what was so funny, he came over with his sterilized stuff, and I found myself gripping Harry's hand tighter, the realization that we were about to get started setting in.

While getting a septum piercing was something I've wanted to do for a while now, I've never actually had the guts to go down the street where the piercing shop was and have it done. I had piercings, lots of them, but every time I'd gotten them done—two on my nose, multiple up and down my ears, even an unfortunate dabbling in an eyebrow piercing that I took out a couple years ago—my nerves right before getting them done was always the same. But when Harry showed up at the tattoo shop today for new ink and claimed he wanted his ear pierced, I felt like it was the perfect opportunity.

"Alright, you ready, Gwen?" Dave asked me as he got the first needle and rod out. The terrible thing about getting your septum pierced was that it was a long process too, making the pain prolonged and more uncomfortable.

No, I was definitely not ready. "Yep," I told Dave instead, with more confidence than I felt. Harry seemed to have sensed my lie because he was the one to squeeze my hand this time, giving me a reassuring smile along with it.

Looking over at him, I saw that his playful demeanor was gone. The skin around his ear was red from where he was poked with a needle, but otherwise, he looked fine. Great, actually, the earring he picked out suited him quite well—a small silver cross that dangled just below his earlobe. Rubbing his thumb across the back of my hand, he leaned in and whispered to me. "You don't have to do this, you know."

He was right, of course, but I was never one to start anything and not finish it, so I looked over to Dave and told him to start, holding Harry's hand steadily in mine the whole time.

★★★

"I look hot," I said as I inspected myself in the mirror.

After an excruciatingly painful amount of time, Dave finally finished and let me go check out my new piercing in the large mirror on the wall of the main area of the shop. It was a small gold hoop that curved around my nose, and it made me feel way more confident than it probably should've. Turning to where Harry was standing, I raised an eyebrow. "Don't you think?"

I meant it as a joke, of course, the same way he had been joking about wanting to hold my hand earlier, but his response was not one I was expecting. "Um, yeah, I mean," he stuttered, his eyes flicking over me from head to toe. "You always look great, obviously, but...yes, you look—you look, um, hot."