Unlikely (H.S.)

thirty-nine

~Harry~

After our somewhat reconciliation, I finally actually take a look around Harper's hotel room, a knot of guilt tightening in my chest as I take in the chaos around us. Clothes are scattered across the floor, an open suitcase haphazardly packed on the bed. The air feels heavy with her insecurity, and I know I'm the one who put it there.

God, I'm a fucking wanker.

I need to do something.

I need to get out of this room, before I ruin the progress we just made.

"Do you want to go for a walk?" I ask suddenly, beginning to pace the room. Her head lifts slightly, her brows furrowing, like she's not sure she heard me correctly.

"A walk?" she repeats, her voice guarded.

I nod, shoving my hands into my pockets. "Just... to get some air. I feel like I'm suffocating in here."

There's a long pause, her gaze searching mine, and I wonder if she's going to say no, tell me to leave instead. But then she chuckles, standing slowly, and grabs her cardigan from the back of the chair. "Alright, since you're the one suffocating."

Off to a rocky start there, Harry.

Relief washes over me as we step out of the room and into the crisp London evening. The air is cool, the kind of cold that nips at your skin but feels refreshing. I keep my hands stuffed in my pockets as we walk side by side, a few inches of space between us that feels like a chasm.

I just want to hold her hand.

Feel her warmth.

Hold her close to me.

But I don't dare reach out. I keep our safe distance.

For a while, we don't speak. The city buzzes softly around us, the distant hum of traffic and the occasional laughter from passersby filling the silence. I'm trying to figure out how to say what I need to say, how to put into words the mess of guilt and regret that's been clawing at me since I kicked her out.

"I want you to come back," I say finally, my voice breaking the silence. Harper glances at me, her brows knitting together. "To the house, I mean. I want you to come back to my house."

She stops walking, turning to face me fully. "Harry..."

"I know," I interrupt, holding my hands up. "I know I messed up. I know I don't deserve it. But I can't stand the thought of you being in that hotel room, feeling like I don't want you around. Because I do. More than anything."

Her arms cross over her chest, her eyes flickering with hesitation. "It's not that simple," she says softly. "You hurt me. You made me feel like I wasn't worth trusting."

"I know," I say again, my voice cracking. "And I'll spend as long as it takes proving to you that I do trust you, Harper. That I was an idiot for ever doubting you. Just... please. Let me start by bringing you home."

Her lips press together, and for a moment, I think she's going to say no. But then she nods, so slight I almost miss it. "Okay," she whispers. "But I already told you, you have to earn me back, Harry. All of me."

"I will," I promise, the words leaving my mouth like a vow.

We walk back to her room in silence, but the weight between us feels a little lighter. As soon as we step inside, I glance around at the scattered belongings and feel another wave of guilt.

Jesus.

I did this to her,

"Let's get this sorted," I offer, moving toward the bed where her half-packed suitcase sits.