Underwater. ||h.s.||

chapter six.

I want to take you back three years before this confrontation happened.

Oddly, I hadn't unpacked a single thing from the move and I wasn't planning to until I felt ready to accept that I didn't live with my parents anymore.

I dropped out of university to pursue a passion of mine, and that passion happened to be illustrating for films and comic strips. When I applied to the Ann Arbor Art Institute and planted a job as a cartoonist, things began looking up. I was an independent adult for one year already, but my home life struggled. In that year, I hadn't stayed home much. I stayed in the Art Studio, listening to music and drawing all of my feelings away.

I didn't think that anyone would be in the Studio in the same hours that I had since I stayed out from sundown to sunrise.
So...when Calum came up behind me whilst watching me sketch a self-portrait, I had no desire in denying that I was scared to death.

I threw an open can of acrylic paint onto his leather jacket.

I remember screaming, "Oh, my god! I'm so—"

"Sorry. Yeah, don't mention it," he said, slowly peeling the jacket away from his shoulders. I remember sitting there and thinking Damn. That was a nice jacket.

I tried to show my remorse and even offer to pay for it, but he surprised me by sitting on the floor next to me and admiring the sketch. I didn't want him to see it, but as he picked up the canvas and studied it, eyeing it with such admiration, it didn't feel right to stop him. I watched him take in every curve of my pencil, every stroke that I'd made. When he looked up and at me, his eyes surveyed me just as it did the drawing. I blushed as he pushed away a stray hair from my eyes.

"Your hand is beautiful. It captured every part of you. Every...amazing feature," he spoke quietly.

I didn't have much male attention, and at this point, he'd stolen away the bars to my guarded heart.

The days after, I began opening boxes to my belongings and finally putting things away. It began to feel like home and it felt right. I owed it to Calum for helping me see the brighter side of life and opening me up to the life I had right in front of me.
But lest I remind you, that was three years ago.
Three years later, I didn't know how to feel anymore.

My breath hitched in my throat as I watched Harry's eyes dilate. I could imagine Calum's expression hardened and his palms were sweating with the promise of turning to fists.

I didn't have the heart to turn around to see my begging boyfriend ready to kill a guy that I had a huge interest in, but I couldn't bare to see Harry's eyes drop any lower in disappointment.

Most girls in these situations have, like, three weeks to choose 'Who's The One'. But in real life, ladies, you seriously have only ten seconds before they both become 'The One That Got Away'.

I've only just met Harry...
I have a past with Calum...not a huge, plot-thickening one, but there's still icing on the cake there.
Harry's a good kisser...
Calum and I rarely hug.

All right, I'm not picking today.

"Harry, can you come back a little later?" I pleaded softly. I began batting my eyelashes for some type of effect, and by the grace of a Miracle, he slowly stepped away from my door before whispering, "...If you need me..."

He didn't suspect that my boyfriend was behind the door.
Awesome. One crisis averted.

But that still left one storm a' brewing.

As Harry walked away and I closed the door, there stood Calum and his eyes were fixated on me murderously. I clapped my hands together and a nervous chuckle slipped from my mouth, ultimately giving away all of my innocence.

"Who was that?" he repeated, his hardened stance non-wavering. A quick lie seized my throat, but I couldn't cough it out.
I could say it was my no-good of a father, but I assumed Calum heard what Harry said.
"He said he wanted to kiss you," he continued, reading my mind.

"He's a friend of mine...and gay. Wanted to buy one of my portraits as a form of a birthday gift."
Nice save, but would he take it?
Just to save-ass a little more, I added, "He meant a kiss on the cheek."

We stood in the living room of my apartment, staring at each other and waiting for which one of us would make the first move. My chest began to get sticky with perspiration from how nervous I was getting, and I needed to sit soon or I'd be in pain for at least a week.

He returned a nervous chuckle and patted down his dark hair to conform to his masculinity.