Paperboy. (h.s. au)

18.

It's been a few days since the night of the party. Yes, I'm feeling more "down" than usual lately. Yes, I feel like punching someone in the face. Yes, I kind of feel like sleeping for a month or so.

But no, I do not know why. I suppose it's all trailing back to the party. But I really don't know why that happened. I haven't spoken to Harry since that day. The only people I've talked to are my mother and David, for that matter.

I'm disappointed in Harry. How could he go back to his ex like that? After she treated him the way she did? After he grieved the way he did?

I feel like an idiot for supporting his feelings. For holding him up- literally- when he was falling. I feel stupid for thinking he wouldn't go back to her. I knew my friendship wouldn't be enough.

There's always a better option.

I entertained the idea that he was just drunk. He very well could have been, but a drunk persons actions and words are a sober person's thoughts. He must have wanted to do that anyway.

As much as I had missed talking to him these past few days, I don't even really want to. I'm afraid that the party will come up, that he will tell me he's back with Lacey. For some reason, I really don't think I would handle that well.

He clearly hasn't wanted to talk to me, either. Obviously.

It's early in the morning, and I can't seem to fall back asleep. I've tried switching the side I'm laying on, flipping the pillow to the cold side, using no covers, but I can't sleep. I have too many thoughts swirling around in my head like a slow-moving hurricane.j

• • •

Finally, around seven thirty, I've had enough of this bed. Throwing the covers off, I feel the heat rise from the sheets and I cool off instantly. I stretch my back out and begin my routine, starting with the bathroom.

After I've done what I need to do there, I go downstairs to the kitchen and see my mom sitting at the table before she heads off to work. "How did you sleep?" She yawns and sips her coffee slowly.

I bring my hands to my face and groan, "Terribly. I was so hot." I leave out the part about the overthinking and regret.

"That's too bad. David, too. In and out of my room all night." She sighs and lifts her head. "Mind getting the paper? It's around that time."

Ugh. I don't even want to think about that god damned boy anymore. Reluctantly, I get up from the chair I was in and slowly tread down the short hallway to the front door.

I peek out the window and there's nothing. I have promised myself to avoid communication with Harry, so I stand in front of the door and wait for him to come. After about five minutes, my mom calls out to me, "Everything okay? Did it come yet?"

I sigh. "Yeah, one second." I open the door and step outside. I sit on a chair that's mostly hidden by a wooden pillar that holds up the awning. A few minutes stretch by and I hear the familiar whir of bike tires on pavement.

I see Harry flying down the road like usual with the battered paper bag slung across his back. He's concentrated in the road until he reaches about two houses from mine. He slows to a stop in front of my house and I sink in my chair.

"I see you, Robin." He says teasingly. He must not think anything is wrong.

I emerge from the porch and hop down the last two steps from the porch, landing a few feet in front of Harry. He gives me a closed mouth smile with tight lips. I don't return it. I intend on having a very limited conversation with him, if I am to have one at all.