Paperboy. (h.s. au)

06.

My heart is pounding. My palms are sweating. I'm scared out of my mind, but I'm still running. Running down the sidewalk with a boy I've hardly known longer than a week. How did I let this happen? He just showed up at the library and took me away. This is crazy. I have to go back. I can't do this. What is this? What if he's dangerous? I can't be out longer than I'm supposed to be. I have to go back. This is insane.

 My chest is getting tight and Harry is still squeezing my hand. We scream to a halt to stop running at a big intersection because there's traffic. I take this as my opportunity to wriggle my hand free of his firm grip. Harry doesn't seem to notice. When I finally catch my breath, I speak.

"What is going on? What do you think you're doing?" My eyes are wide and I'm still breathing pretty hard. I take a few steps back from Harry so I'm not so close. He looks at me like I've been speaking Spanish. His eyebrows are quirked and his mouth is pursed into a confused frown. He's not saying anything, just staring at me like I'm crazy. I'm usually one to enjoy a good silence, but I need him to say something so I have something else to concentrate on that isn't passing out. 

Harry remains silent, and I remain manic and confused.

"Harry." 

Finally, he speaks with a carefully exaggerated, "Yes?"

"What are you doing?" I ask yet again, in case he hadn't heard me, but I know he had.

He purses his lips again and slumps his shoulders. He cranes his neck and looks up to the fading blue, sun-setting sky. He lets out a long, long breath. It was quite a peaceful action, and it somehow made the rattling of my heart in my chest settle in the slightest way. Then slowly, as he picks his head up and asks, "What does it look like?" 

Like you're kidnapping me? Dragging me down the road? Not expecting me to me confused in the slightest? "I haven't been stolen from work in a long time. Explain to me what you're doing." My voice comes out sarcastically and I feel a little bad for talking to him like this.

Not a lie. I'd been taken from work early by my father once when my aunt had passed away. He had shown up about five minutes after my shift began and told everyone else working that it was an emergency. Naturally I was horrified and left with my dad and learned the news. Yes, it was scary and surprising, but this isn't the same. So maybe what I'm feeling now has a little bit to do with what I was feeling then. But I hardly knew Harry and he's acting like we have been friends for years. I'm not even sure I would let Victoria or Lily steal me away like this. 

Harry lets out a short, breathy laugh, "No need to get sassy. I'm only trying to have fun." He puts his hands up in defense.

"And your idea of fun is showing up where I work and running me out of there?"

"Woah, woah. No. When I walked into the library, I had zero intentions of doing this." He smiled, "But when I saw you standing around with three old ladies, I thought, 'she needs a good time!' And I'm right. Am I right?"

"Of course you're n-"

"I'm right," he waves a hand. "You need to loosen up."

Of course he's right. I'm extremely anxious and never really do anything fun besides read. Also, Netflix. But I can see how some people won't see those things as a fun time. Still, Harry's got no right to justify what's good for me. He doesn't know me. If I was a braver girl, I would voice this to him. But I'm not, so I let it simmer in my head until it eventually angers me.

I try to think of something to say to argue, but I have nothing. I stare up at him with an annoyed look on my face. I hate being wrong. And I hate that I'm wrong so often.