Bad Friend

19- Drinks

"Is this stupid? God this is stupid, isn't it?"

"This is not stupid, Gwen. Now shut up and put your shoes on."

My mouth opened in surprise, unable to even say a word in protest to Lena's harsh words of encouragement. I don't think I could even if I wanted to; Lena gave me a look that made me think better of it, so I sighed and did what I was told, sitting down at the edge of my bed so that I could put on my shoes.

I'd never been self conscious about my wardrobe choices, but now that it was almost eight and Harry would knock on my door any minute, my decision to layer one of my plaid dresses over a plain black shirt and wear it with a pair of chunky boots and fishnet socks felt like the wrong one. Harry hadn't given me a lot of details about what he had planned for tonight, wanting it to be some kind of surprise, so I did my best to try to dress for this momentous occasion. It was casual enough, but it was a little on the nicer side too. At least my version of "nicer," seeing as I usually stuck to shirts or blouses tucked into a pair of jeans or trousers.

After my shift at the shop was done, Lena had followed me upstairs to my apartment to help me find something to wear and make sure I actually went on this date and didn't hide from Harry in my room. It had been a week since he said he wanted to take me on a date, but even after seven whole days, the mere thought of it turned my stomach into a big huge knot.

After that day where we'd shared a lot of stuff with each other, everything kind of went back to normal. Harry was still staying in my apartment—he would disappear for a few hours while I worked, and neither of us really brought up what we'd talked about. It was like there was this unspoken understanding that while we'd revealed a lot to each other, we didn't necessarily have to dwell on it. That's the way I saw it, at least. It felt good to tell Harry some of the things I'd bottled up for so long, but that didn't suddenly make me completely open and willing to talk about my dad all the time. I'd done enough sharing and crying to last me a lifetime.

As for Harry... He still refused to go back to Los Angeles. Even after ample encouragement from both Mitch and myself, Harry just shook his head and said he was happy where he was. Mitch eventually went back to LA in defeat, but before he left I pulled him aside and said I would do what I could to convince him.

I knew Harry was staying here for me. One night when I asked him why he lied to me about driving back and forth between here and Los Angeles, he just said it plain and simple. "We spent two whole years apart, G. I want to be here with you. Everything else can wait."

I wanted to roll my eyes and tell him to not be so silly, to go back to writing his album, back to his life, but I couldn't. My heart squeezed when he said those things, to the point where I pulled him away from the kitchen table where we were eating dinner and got on my knees to express what I couldn't with words.

That didn't mean I thought he could stay cooped up in my tiny apartment forever, or that I thought he was staying just because we'd spent so much time apart. I knew he had obligations and work waiting for him in LA, that people were expecting and counting on him to do his job so that they could do theirs. And while he claimed he wanted to spend more time with me just because he could, I knew that a lot of it came from my emotional breakdown that day. It was one of my worst ones to date, and Harry was making sure I was okay or that he could be there if I had another one. I told him I was fine, that that little scene in my workroom was a very rare occurrence, but I knew Harry could be really stubborn when he wanted to be, and the more anyone pushed him to do something he didn't want to, the more he would stick his heels in and do the exact opposite. Mitch would call the shop occasionally asking for an update, but I just told him to give Harry time. He was stubborn, yes, but he also loved making music. He wasn't quitting, just taking a longer break than he anticipated.