Cherry Bomb [h.s]

40

I step out of the steaming hot shower and wrap a towel around my body, and twist another on top of my head. I wipe off the steam from the mirror so I can see my face as I go through the steps of my skincare routine. Although, "routine" is a very liberal application of the word. I'm usually too tired or lazy to do it every night. But after a weird couple of days and a sweaty performance, I felt like I needed it. 

I examine my neck in the mirror, the red and purple splotches just as prominent as they were this morning. I'm probably going to have to cover them up for a few days before they fade enough to be unnoticeable. I'm not sure why exactly they seem to bother Harry so much, but I really don't want a repeat of what he went through this morning. To be honest, it kind of scared me seeing how distraught and dissociated he was. I have no idea what was going through his mind at that moment, but I know it wasn't pretty. 

We hadn't really interacted since then. I didn't know who was avoiding who more. 

Just as I'm finishing up my skincare, there's a knock on the door. I glance at the clock, seeing that it's almost 2:00 am. There's only a handful of people who would be knocking on my door this time of night, so I have a good guess of who it might be. But I ask anyway.

"Who is it?" I ask aloud,  not really caring if the other hotel guests hear me. 

"It's me," Harry's voice replies, muffled through the door. My suspicions were correct. 

"One minute!" I tell him, then rifle through my mess of a suitcase to find a pair of shorts and a hoodie. I also take my hair down from the towel, hoping that it, combined with the hoodie, will conceal the hickeys on my neck. 

I open the door about a third of the way, seeing Harry standing there, freshly showered as well, wearing a plain black tee and dark grey sweats. Still dampened strands of hair fall into his eyes, and he pushes them back as he gives me an almost-smile. 

"Hey," I say, sounding almost like I'm out of breath, "I was just about to go to bed." 

He nods, but I can tell he has something on his mind. 

"Can we... talk first?" he asks, "About last night. And this morning, I guess." 

I sigh and contemplate for a moment, before deciding to open the door fully so he can come in. I wait for him to fully pass me before I shut the door and turn around to face him. 

"I really don't know what there is to talk about," I tell him, "Last night... shouldn't have happened. We were both drunk and vulnerable, and we comforted each other. That's all." 

He scoffs and crosses his arms. 

"It was a little bit more than that, and you know it. And your suddenly cold attitude right now is exactly why I want to talk about it," He looks down at his feet, and when he looks back up he's suddenly much softer, "I don't know how to act around you, Sunshine." 

"Don't," I whisper and hold up a hand and look away from him and his entrancing green eyes, "Don't 'Sunshine' me, okay? I- it distracts me from what I need to say to you." 

"Okay," he replies, "I won't." 

I nod once and walk past him to sit on the edge of the bed. He tentatively sits down next to me, but leaves some space between us. 

I stare straight ahead, afraid that if I look at him then I'll be pulled back under the confusing ocean of a mess we've created. 

"Look," Harry says, "There was a... moment between us last night. A real moment. And I just wanted to discuss it. That's all." 

I bite my lip before speaking. 

"I don't want to be suddenly cold like I am," I confess, "But we both know that whatever we have, or had, or whatever, can't happen again. So I really don't want to talk about it."