The Place Where Broken Hearts Go h.s.

Chapter 9: Naive

Naive: (adjective) childish, overly trusting

Harry waits for me to finish, and he insists on paying my bill. "Please," he says, "it's the least I can do. You made my night interesting."

I blush wildly, and give in easily. We exit the restaurant together, and I notice how all the girls we pass seem to stare at him. All I can think is I know, right? Harry is the definition of tall dark and handsome.

The sky is black, stars hidden behind smog and clouds. "Where are you off to now?" Harry asks.

"Subway," I point over my shoulder towards my destination.

Harry furrows his eyebrows. "Don't you have a car?"

I smile at him confused. "Yes, but I take the subway into the city. It's much faster."

"Even at night?"
Harry looks like someone has just dared him to eat a cricket.

"Yes." I laugh lightly.

"I can drive you," he suggests.

"No I can't make you drive all that way..."

"Please. How far do you live?"

"I live on Bloomersdale Drive, its right next to-"

Harry interrupts me. "I know where that is, come on."

I hesitate. Even if Harry brings me home, my car will be stranded in the lot near my subway station until morning.

I quickly weigh my options. Car ride with Harry, or lonely train ride with creepy strangers. It's a no-brainer. Even so, I don't like owing favors.

I follow Harry down the street. "I really can't make you drive all the way to my house, though. It's too much."

"I live five minutes from you. It's not a problem," Harry states dismissively.

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Really? You don't live in the city?"

"Nope."

We walk another block in silence, our hands occasionally brushing against each other. I want so badly to grab Harry's hand. The impulse is so strong, that I have to ball my hands into fists and squeeze. Soon, he shoves his hands into his pockets and I can't help but wonder if he was thinking the same thing. Either that, or he was getting annoyed that our hands keep bumping.

I gaze at Harry in the night. His profile is lit by the streetlights, bouncing off his skin. He looks delicious.

Harry must sense me watching because he turns, and cocks his head curiously, with an amused smirk.

I open my mouth, and then close it. Nothing is more awkward than being caught staring. Especially at Harry.

"You always stare at me," He notes.

My face is burning. I was naive to think he wouldn't notice my constant looks.

I clear my throat, and walk straighter. I see him shaking his head in my peripheral, and I want to ask him what he is thinking about me. If it's good or bad.

"My car is right there," He points to a giant, glossy black range-rover. The car is giant and boxy, a car that suits Harry just right.

I nod my head approvingly. "Nice."

Harry chuckles and strides a few paces before me opening the passenger door for me to climb inside. "Thank you, sir." I smile.

"Of course," He closes the door gently behind me, and I watch him cross the front of the vehicle to the drivers side.