Harvard Boy

She wonders?

If anything could be decided, or spoken of highly. It would of been said by now.

The bruise; their night; the way he looks at her.

Days came and gone.

Everything was spiraling into this unfortunate and unacquainted medium between-

You're ruining me.

I'm sorry.

I love you.

I can't.

Those seemed to pass absentmindedly amongst them.

Controlling; answering; ruining their lives.

When Victoria walked into the library that afternoon, for what felt like years, she saw the replaced window.

Wonders if there were cameras, or if Harry anonymously signed a check for the damages.

She held a horrified expression on the thought of others witnessing what the vandalism led up to.

The noises they made, the way he took her against the wall.

Surely the dean of administrative boards would have called her, most likely ban her from the premises; her degree.

She thinks about how reckless he makes her, how belittled and stupid.

Crazy; unhinged.

Sighing, she makes her way to the sofa, a book in hand.

Hoping Jane Austen will take away this underlying ache that presumably will reside in her chest forever.

Opening; turning; page after page.

Lost on the idea of love; the kind that works out; the kind that makes her thoughts cloud and disappear altogether; all at once.

She loses sight of her life, and folds into the words of somewhere else, somewhere fictional, somewhere impractical.

"I miss you."

The way he says it, the way he's here; unexpected, unfair, not ready.

Pulls her immediately back into the reality she was so conveniently trying to escape from.

Breaks her; if that's even possible.

He found her, now she finds him.

Notices the purple shade surrounding his eye. The way he looks to of been crying, or forcing something out of him self.

She doesn't know what to say, or even if there is anything left to.

The answer is in her eyes; in the restored window; the ache between her legs; the way she relaxes in his presence.

"I-I just need you to understand that I don't know what I'm doing, but I- need you right now, okay?" He stepped closer, a silence enveloping "okay?" He hesitates again.

Drawing closer; asking; begging.

She closes her book. Wonders if this will continue for years, months, or even a week.

She's never seen him so fragile; broken, before.

She'll have him, if he'll take her.

She needs him more than she wants him.

This silence and urgency, or the way a civil conversation can't be said anymore is confusing.

Because they make it back to Harry's dorm.

He's on top of her.

Licking; biting; sucking any gap of exposed skin.

Growls when she moans.

Appraises her body, when he enters her.

Pounds roughly, tells her "it's to good."

Crying, nails dragging across his back.

This heat overcoming every sense she's ever had.

She's reaching her climax, and she wonders when they turned into this?

When the clutch of his bicep became familiar?

When her heart raced against his?

When she came so hard she screamed?

She wonders when this became what they are?

(Thoughts? Love you all 😘)