Harvard Boy

She thought.

The sun was breaking head way. Bearing their bodies, along with the reality glistening through their window.

He'd given her time to decide, to make a decision; but equally be forced into it.

"Are you ready?" He whispered into her hair.

The last of her classes were mere hours away.

She found herself mentally scoffing at such a question, because she's so irrevocably in love with him, that such talk was humorous.

She was always ready; always unprepared, when it came to him.

"I would be. If a certain someone, would stop groping me." She playfully shoved him, while continuing to gather her books.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He rasped, while grabbing a handful of her ass.

She yelped, snatching her things, giggling all the while teetering toward the door.

The glint in his eyes were dark and sultry. Like he was placing her somewhere inside him. Watching her watch him.

"I'll miss you." He said.

I love you. She felt.

"I'll see you soon."

▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️🔺▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️

She'd returned later that evening, after gruesome exams, and the weight of a decision to be made.

It was hard; exciting; confusing.

So much emphasis was put on this very day; put on a beach house; put on him.

"Look at me."

She did, she looked straight at him.

Watching the way he held such a mesmerizing gaze and stature, at such a dwindling time.

"Say yes. Come with me."

Breath was caught, life was jumbling.

Knew what she wanted; equally knew what she needed.

But with such uncertainty.

She wondered if he could ever love her? Ever belong to her; like she belonged to him?

How it already felt that way, with arms clutching her night after night, soft pants in her ear, and murmured good mornings.

"Who am I to you?" She asked, making the air dense between them. Swiping the clear look of determination straight off his face.

"You're mine."

It was stated without diligence. As if the question was to easy.

"But you're not mine?"

Silence.

Then shifting; then quivering.

Then an answer.

"I don't know what to say Victoria."

Comical in her head, how he didn't have words, yet when it came to any other subject; he'd spew paragraphs.

"Say that- I mean more to you, than what I'm thinking. That we mean something. That I mean something."

His eyes darted to the ground, like she'd dug through a healing wound.

She knew, she hated herself.

She hated him.

The sound of the clock ticking, and the warm draft, were making her feel light headed.

Even after the sex; the time; the somewhat glimmer in his eyes.

Nothing had changed for him.

And the pain that was trickling back inside, was worse than before.

Worse than any lie she heard, any death she witnessed, and any denial she ever told herself.

Something, that if truly felt, would bring her to her knees.

Make her think of death; and something unthought of.

"I can't." He stabbed her, with two solemn words.

She shook her head. Acknowledging his recoil; this moment.

Deciding to keep it together until she was in the safety of her dorm.

Where she could be alone; shattered; broken; at peace with truth.

"Then you know the answer." She tried not to let her voice crack, but it did. "Have a good summer Harry."

Gathering her things, she left- for what she thought would be the last time.

(Hey guys, so sorry it's been forever! Christina Lauren's books are ruining my life. The beautiful series is on iBooks, rated mature, but so flippin good. I'd advise you to check them out 😉! Thanks for reading, love you all!)