Unexpected

46. Helen

Even though Harry hasn't told me where we're going yet, we've been in the car for over two hours and I don't feel my legs anymore, he's particularly nasty and apparently he wants to be killed, and I'm still upset about the discussion we have had at lunchtime, I'm having.

It's not often that I drive long distances—except when I go to my parents, which isn't often—so it's rare for me to listen to my favorite songs all this time.

Ariana Grande has always been my absolute favorite, ever since her first album, and one day I would like to become like her. Despite her notoriety and her success she has remained a genuine and humble woman, I love this thing about her, which is why she's inspires me a lot. And then she has an immense talent and I feel lucky because somehow I can reach the highest notes of her and sing her songs without difficulty.

I've been singing since I was a little girl, I enjoyed singing any song I heard, but no one had ever noticed my "talent". Then one day my brother Cole said, "Mom, Ellie is really good!" I was about five years old, but I remember exactly that day. My mother looked at me for a few seconds, she came to me and said, "Do you like to sing, huh, little girl? Do you want to be a singer?" I nodded yes and I remember being ashamed of admitting it.

But that's not the reason my score never changed.

I was ten when I saw the video for Ariana's song Put Your Hearts Up. It was a song that was written for her role as Cat in Victorious, but it was still her, and I haven't stopped loving her ever since.

Thanks to her my boundless passion for music and singing was born. Who would have thought that, Ariana, huh? Yup.

Now a dream come true would be to be able to go to one of her concerts, meet her, talk to her, and sing with her... but I know it's just a dream and it will remain so.

And that's why we've been listening to her songs in the car for at least half an hour and I'm having a blast singing them. But Harry doesn't know them, or pretends.

Love Me Harder is broadcast from the car speakers. I love this song.

I start singing it and notice that Harry moves to the rhythm of the music, but in an imperceptible way. He taps his fingers on the steering wheel and moves his leg a little.

The lyrics of this song are beautiful, have a nice meaning, and I see myself in them again. I think it reflects a lot of the situation between me and Harry.

When the first chorus is about to end, I notice that Harry takes a breath and closes his eyes.

I can't believe what my ears are hearing.

I need a moment to recover. It was completely unexpected.

Harry is singing the male part of the song, and he has a beautiful voice.

I don't know what to say, I'm shocked.

He glances at me and smiles at me, and at this point I can't help but smile at him too.

And then, when the second chorus comes, we sing together.

It's a great feeling. I feel complete, as if nothing is missing in my life. His voice merging with mine, the music in our ears, the lyrics that describes us, the looks we share...

The song is over and we both breathe heavily.

"Harry..." I say, and when I squeeze my thighs against each other, I feel a wet sensation.

He runs a hand through his hair. "Did I impress you?"

"You shocked me," and I let out a laugh. "Why didn't you ever tell me you can sing?"

"I don't think it's a big deal."

What?

"You underestimate yourself, definitely."

I mean, he's very good, why not take advantage of this?

Then a thought arises in my head. "What do you want to do after graduation?"

He stares at the road, thoughtful. "My greatest desire has always been to teach children and teens about music, its importance in our lives. Teach them to express themselves through a poem on musical notes. This."

Despite all the anger inside, the resentment, that pinch of violence, the hard shell on the outside, inside he is so sensitive.

I believe that the more people live in situations where anger, violence, and pain are protagonists, the more they desire peace, silence, delicacy and happiness.

Harry wants this, and I want to try to help him create what could make him happy.

"It's a nice thing," I say simply. Technically we're still mad at each other, so I don't dare tell him everything on my mind.

"You?" he asks me in his turn.

Me? Geez.

"Well... I'd like to make an album, make it big, and perform under a real spotlight for the first time, in a stadium, with the crowd cheering for me. I want to tour, and bring my music around the world." Always dreamed big.

He lets out a laugh. "You ask little, huh?"

"I don't ask for anything, I earn it."

That's what I've always done. If I don't do something myself, then I'm not happy.

But all of a sudden Harry goes silent. There is something wrong.

I have to get him back to earth, because he's not right now. In any way.

"So..." I begin to say. "Why did you keep this Maddie from me all the time?"

Finally he turns to me for a moment and glances at me. "I didn't keep it from you."

What, excuse me? "Yes, you did, you have never told me anything about her. If it hadn't been a problem you would have told me, I think."

He snorts, irritated. Harry is back on earth! "You know I'm a private person, so why should I tell you who she was?"

I laugh sarcastically. "Private? But you don't mind letting everyone know how many girls you fuck."

"Oh God. What's that got to do with it now?"

"Well, I know you had a pretty active sex life before me, with a different girl every day."

"Before you?" he repeats. "What makes you think I don't have it after you too?"

No. He is kidding.

"Who the fuck are you to think you're so important?" he blurts out.

I shake my head nervously, tears threaten to fall. "You're only saying that to hurt me, you can't be serious, can you?"

He ignores my question. "What made you believe that? Just because I told you something about me doesn't mean anything."

I can't help myself anymore. Heavy tears stream down my face. "You are not serious. I saw the look in your eyes when you spoke to me and when you kissed me, touched me and looked at me this morning!"

"Then maybe I should go to the theater."

No, no. You can't take my heart and tear it apart like this.

"I want to go home, please," I tell him, unable to argue or break his heart in turn, because he doesn't have one.

"The only thing you want is attention. Have you wondered why you are here with me? You're jealous and you want me to think only about you, but you have to understand what else is on my mind!" he yells.

I sob, I don't even try to be proud and keep all the pain inside. He is stabbing me in the chest.

"Now we're going there, and as soon as you realize who the fuck Maddie is, don't come apologize."

I sniff, and look at him, shocked. "But who the hell are you?"

"Henry Davis."