Don't Stand So Close (completed)

Chapter 17

I don't leave my bed until Monday morning when I have to be at my first class at 11:00 AM.

When I'd gotten back to my dorm room after fleeing the scene I realized I was still wearing Harry's button up shirt with nothing under it. I'd left my panties, bra, and clothes all lying on the floor in his living room near the couch where we'd had sex. Everything felt wrong and dirty. I regretted insisting on telling everyone, but that wouldn't have mattered would it? Starla had found out anyway. No matter what we would have done she would have found out. Unless we'd never started the whole sordid thing in the first place. But it was bound to happen. We were drawn to one another.

I couldn't eat and forced myself to drink water because of the searing headache my tears had produced. I couldn't read. I couldn't do anything. I was hopeless. The only thing I knew was that I had to at least go to classes because I couldn't lose my scholarship. I'd skipped my last class on Friday to see Harry in a rush and now that too feels like a mistake. If I'd just stayed for class then maybe Starla wouldn't have walked in on us at that time. Or maybe I could have told Harry I needed to speak with Starla that night instead of going to him and she and I could have hashed it all out and we could have avoided the incident.

My regrets are mountainous. I also neglected to grab my cellphone when I left Harry's so I had no contact through my phone at the moment. I had my laptop so I wasn't completely out of the loop and unreachable. Of course Harry realized I didn't have my phone and messaged me on Instagram. His first message was on Friday night, begging me to respond to him and telling me he loved me and he needed to talk to me somehow. I didn't check my messages until Sunday morning, when I was going through my assignments for classes and I noticed I'd had some DMs.

His second message was on Saturday morning and now he seemed panicked pleading with me to let him know I was okay at least. His last message was on Saturday afternoon and he seemed much more impatient and angry. He'd said I abandoned him when he needed me and the least I could do was to respond to him.

I reluctantly messaged him back when I read his messages with a simple - I'm fine. I need space, though.

Why I said I needed space? I'll never really know. Maybe there's a part of me that loves to wallow and feel sorry for myself. Because it's so much more painful going through this ordeal alone. At least if I was with Harry we could talk about it and we'd have each other. But I tend to make things harder for myself than they need to be. And in doing so, making things harder for Harry too. Harry deserves better.

I focus on my classes and am thankful no one bothers me, nor do they know of my indiscretion so no one can judge me. I do keep thinking back to the Instagram messages with Harry. He'd seen the message from me but then never responded. Part of me wanted him to respond, to beg, hell, even to come to me. But I was the one that ran out. I was the one who was the pussy in the end, not him. I left him high and dry when I promised him I'd be with him during this. I just felt that if we parted things could be easier for the both of us. I didn't want to make him lose his daughter because of me. If I'm not in the picture, perhaps they can heal and move on. As much as that hurts, I felt like I needed to sacrifice my own happiness so they could have a chance.

After classes I trudge my way back to the dorm building and fall face first into my bed. I have no will to enjoy anything. I have no desire to eat. Fuck, I'm not even tired because I slept all weekend. I decide that I should do some homework and read a few chapters from my Art history textbook. I hate it all though. The joy of things I've loved is not there.

I notice right away that I have a message on Instagram and my heart races in anticipation of it being Harry.

I open it up and feel myself buzz with nerves when I see it's him. I read over the message a couple of times and check the time on the laptop. Shit!