Fight Club (h.s.)

Part 7

Harry: I'm sorry

Harry: Please forgive me if I made you upset

Harry: Elle, I miss talking to you. I'm sorry

The text messages are received after our class, his eyes burning into my skin the entire lesson. It made me nervous but Hanna started talking to me before he did.

Deciding to go chance it, I walked to his apartment. My heart is beating rapidly and I knock on his door, shoving my hands in my pockets. Heavy footsteps are heard and the door swings open.

"I don't want coupons for Chri-" he looks down at me, lips parting and eyes widening.

"I-I'm...overreacting," I try to explain, his hand grabbing mine and pulling me into his apartment. I think part of my reason for not being able to for coherent sentences was due to the fact he's shirtless, shorts slung low on his hips.

"Don't worry about it. You didn't do anything wrong. I fucked up, not you," he says, my lips releasing a sigh. He watches me closely the whole time and he starts unzipping my jacket.

"Make yourself at home. I was going to the gym but I would rather stay here with you," he says, my cheeks flushing.

He walks to the couch and grabs his tee, pulling it over his head.

"Do you want me to show you around? I think I only showed you the living room," he says, my head nodding. He grabs my hand and leads me down a hallway, pointing to the bathroom and his bedroom.

"That's an extra room I have. Don't know what to do with it," he says, my head nodding. He has a few pictures on the wall, my eyes looking them over.

"That's my sister, Gemma. My mum," he points, "And my little brother, Carter. He was three when I left."

My heart slumps in my chest and he wraps his arm around my waist.

"You don't talk with them?" I ask, his head shaking.

"I destroyed our house after what happened with my ex-girlfriend. My mum essentially shipped me here and I made a life of my own. Don't think she'd want to talk to me," he says, my body facing his.

"Of course she would. You're a great person," I say, his lips curving as he shakes his head.

"I've done a lot of shit," he laughs, my shoulders shrugging. He tugs me into his living room, the two of us sitting on his couch.

"Do you need anything to eat? I can make some popcorn," he suggests, my head nodding. He gets up and walks to the kitchen, my feet walking behind him.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes again, my shoulders shrugging. I sit up on the counter and watch him.

"It's fine," I tell him, his head shaking. He walks over to me and steps between my legs, looking me straight in the eye.

"You tell me exactly how you feel. I need to know what you are feeling because I can't read you," he says, his hands setting on my waist. I look down and meet his eyes.

"I feel...useless. You like to have women in a way I'm not comfortable with," I whisper, my voice small.

"I only had sex because I needed a release. I haven't had sex in months; it wasn't a regular occurrence. It held no emotion and I hate being touched; it wasn't needed. So I stopped. Then I met you, running into you, and everything changed for me. You're cute, shy, and so incredibly innocent that I can't stay away. I'm having a hard time staying away from you and I don't know why," he says, my hands coming off his shoulders.

His words make me assured that I'm not some game he's playing. I don't know what to feel right now.

"You don't- You don't have sex anymore?" I ask, his head nodding.