After The End: Book 1

38. We Get Better With Time

Naomis POV

I've never been the type of person to let other people call the shots. I haven't ever taken criticism well. I don't let others tell me what to do.

Harry had come to me very bluntly with his opinion of things. It seemed he had thought long and hard before approaching me. He probably sat on the sidelines observing in the way he did for a while before deciding to get involved. It was interesting seeing him develop a personality outside of his addictions. He was becoming more like a real person to me and less like a concept, or the shell of someone I used to know.

I was surprised to find myself admitting he was right. Truthfully, nothing he said was remotely different than the thoughts already swirling in my head, but to be called out was like the push I needed to get out of my own head.

We had ended up driving for upwards of an hour. After our conversations about my inadequacy as a partner, Harry had actually convinced me to drive him through the countryside so that he could "Look at springtime," before returning home. We talked about nothing, aside from Harry musing about some of the horrible things he'd been caught doing in public as a means to ease my anxieties. His argument was essentially that I couldn't be worse than him. He had a point.

Then I'd asked him about Lux and he'd gone pink in the ears before telling me it was none of my business. Then he'd added that he didn't think Louis liked her. I reminded him he hadn't used to like her either. He'd just laughed and muttered "details." Then he'd reminded me that he was a "nightmare" but at least Lux wasn't scared to be photographed with him.

Louis had been pretty shocked to see the two of us returning together. He'd raised his eyebrows and inquired about what was happening. Harry had just smirked and told him, "Mind your business."

So much for our business being collective.

Still, that night, when we were lying in bed, I decided that Harry was right. There was no time like the present.

"You make me happy," I said carefully. We were lying on opposite sides of the bed, which didn't ignite the calm and happy feelings of belonging that I had previously felt with Louis at bed time. My hesitations have ebbed there way into other parts of our life. It was time they stopped.

Louis seemed to stiffen in bed, as if afraid of this conversation. Harry had told me that Louis anxiety was unmatched. "I probably caused it," he'd added. Louis constantly worried about what would happen next in his life. I'd only made that worse.

I felt him sit up behind me, but I kept my back turned. "Do I?" He inquired hopefully.

"You do," I answered. "And I don't want to keep making you feel like you don't."

"Is this because of something Harry said?" Louis questioned. I felt his hand touch my shoulder lightly.

I shook my head rolling over to face him. "No. Harry's fine." That may have been a little bit of a lie. Harry was actually kind of a nightmare, although I say that in the most loving way possible. He was a teenager in the body of an adult. Teenagers were just difficult.

Louis eyes were boring into me skeptically. The blue was piercing and intense.

"I want to go public with you," I added nervously. "I don't want to make you hide with me anymore."

Louis eyebrows furrowed. I sat up to be face to face with him. "You don't have to do that," he responded in a sad voice. "I don't want to rush you."

I nodded and tried to put a smile on my face. "I want to. For you. You deserve to be loved in public."

He allowed a hopeful expression to slip over his face, but only slightly. He still kept his eyebrows furrowed, like he was waiting for me to yell:  just kidding, go back to sleep.