Trying to live #Wattys2024

Chapter 35 (Edited)

The knocking grew more insistent this time. Henry was still on top of me, frozen, his breaths shallow and quick. I could feel the tension radiating off him.

"Henry?" Juliette's voice came through the door again, louder and edged with irritation. The doorknob began to turn.

Henry closed his eyes, then spoke in a loud, strained voice. "Wait, Juliette! I'm in here—just give me a minute to put some clothes on and clean up. I'll let you in. Five minutes, okay?"

I heard Juliette huff, her frustration palpable even through the thick door. "Fine. I'll go downstairs and grab some water. Do you want anything?"

"No."

She released the doorknob, her footsteps fading as she headed downstairs.

But I wasn't focusing on her anymore. All my attention was on Henry, who now leaned his forehead against mine. His face was a mask of confusion and regret, his voice barely above a whisper. "What am I doing? What am I going to tell her?"

Henry exhaled sharply and collapsed onto the pillow beside me. I turned to look at him, taking in every detail—the perfect jawline, the straight nose, the long lashes framing those intense green eyes. He was the epitome of perfection, like a living work of art.

And then something inside me broke.

A sharp, aching pain spread through my chest as I realized the truth: Henry wasn't talking about me. He wasn't thinking about me.

He was worried about Juliette.

His girlfriend.

I was nothing to him. Just a ghost from his past.

The realization hurt, but it was undeniable. Henry loved Juliette. The boy I had imagined while kissing Cam was hopelessly in love with someone else. And no matter how much it shattered me, it was the truth.

I had been wrong to even entertain thoughts of kissing him, to let myself feel anything when he touched me. I needed to get a grip, to remind myself that this was nothing more than a temporary lapse in judgment. My emotions were out of control, driven by hormones and nostalgia.

Henry was my past. He would always be my past.

I wasn't in love with him.

Are you really not? a voice inside my head challenged me.

The longer I stared at him, the more uncertain I became. My resolve wavered, and I couldn't help but reach out, my fingertips grazing his hand. His head turned toward me, those emerald eyes searching mine.

"Nothing happened, Henry," I whispered. "You'll tell her the truth—that we were just studying."

It was the truth, after all. Nothing had happened between us, not really. Sure, he had touched me, but it wasn't like that. He wasn't cheating on Juliette, and even if he wanted to, he wouldn't do it with me.

Henry still thought I had cheated on him, though my situation with Wyatt hadn't helped that perception. But deep down, I knew he would never do the same to Juliette.

They had started dating just weeks after Henry and I broke up.

He scoffed. "I can't tell Julie that."

Julie. The name burned like acid on my tongue.

What is wrong with me? I wondered, feeling a surge of something dark and twisted coil in my stomach. I wanted to throw something, preferably at a girl with blonde hair and blue eyes.

"Of course, you can," I said, sitting up and forcing a calmness I didn't feel. "We were studying, Henry. Juliette has to know you'll be in a room with me sometimes when you tutor me."