prom date | wroetoshaw

So, therapy?

When I opened my eyes, the pain was so bad I shut them immediately after. "Fucking hell," I whispered, rubbing my temples as a desperate attempt to soothe the banging pain I was feeling.

The events from last night were slowly feeding back into my mind, and I soon felt as distressed as I remembered feeling last night.

"Fucking hell," I repeated, reaching for my phone but finding it wasn't on my bedside table like usual.

"What the -"

Something clicked in my mind, and I remembered leaving it on the sofa last night. Freya's advice flashed up in my mind too. And then my whole conversation - well, more like me yelling at him, played over and over in my mind.

Thinking back, I don't even know how it had come on. I think I was stressed trying to juggle all of my feelings, all the while knowing that I wasn't ready to date anyone. I was annoyed at myself, promising him that after my Nan I might be alright, but I wasn't alright.

I hadn't been alright since Will, and it was something I hadn't come to terms with until right now. And it wasn't something I wanted him to know. It was personal, it was my...issue.

Hating him was easier than loving him...or maybe him hating me was easier than whatever the two of us were.

I owed it to him to speak to him, though. Freya was right. I couldn't avoid talking to him forever. Maybe we'd be able to move past this as friends. Maybe he'd even bought my lies last night.

I stumbled out of bed, into the living room - which was a state because of last night. My leftover chinese was still on the table, and there were cushions everywhere, along with an empty bottle of wine on the floor which I groaned at.

My phone was face down on the sofa, and when I picked it up it only had twenty percent left. It was enough to call Harry.

I pressed on his contact, still rubbing my temple with my other hand, and waited for him to pick up.

After barely ringing once, it crackled and I heard his voice. I didn't want to be the one that spoke first, and so I remained silent.

"Lily? Are you there? Hello?" His voice from the other side of the phone asked. He sounded desperate, he sounded tired, and I felt guilty.

"I'm here," I croaked, making my way back to my own bedroom, still holding the phone against my ear but plugging it on charge.

"Hey, good, okay. I - er, I had shit planned out to say when you called but it feels too stupid for me to say now. But, I want to say, I forgive you," he says, which is exactly the opposite of what I wanted to hear from him. I wanted for him to hate me too, I didn't want him to be the nicest, most caring person I'd grown up with. For once, I wanted anything but that.

"Harry -"

"I know it was just you getting stressed with me, because of what was said about everything, and me not telling you about the payments, but -"

"Harry. I wasn't lying yesterday. I truly don't like you like that, I'm sorry," I tell him, the lie so big it physically made me feel sick.

He faltered. I didn't know if he believed me or not, but I knew I was making him doubt himself. I hated myself for it, but right now I was protecting my own needs against his.

"Hang on, what? No, no! That doesn't make sense, it - it doesn't add up," he stammers, and I have to cover my mouth to stop myself from letting out a sob.

"I love you like my best friend, and I just didn't want things to turn sour so I went along with it, but I'm done pretending now. It's over. I don't like you like that, I never have, I'm so sorry," I say, my voice wobbling at the end.