Somebody to Hold Tonight (Larry Stylinson)

11

When Thursday morning rolled around, I woke up extra early once again. Since I knew Harry was still angry with me and figured he probably wouldn't want to get up and make an extravagant breakfast, I took a quick shower and got myself ready for work before I crept downstairs and grabbed my purse. There was a Village Pantry just down the street, so I walked the short distance. The brisk autumn air felt good in my lungs, and I realized I rarely ever just went out for a walk.

Of course, going for a walk alone in my neighborhood wasn't particularly safe. I knew I wouldn't have that worry once we moved into the townhouse, and I knew Harry didn't have that problem either. On occasion I'd crossed paths with his neighbors on my way out to the car, and they'd always wave. They had no idea who I was, but they still waved. My perception of people in higher classes than myself was slowly beginning to change.

I went into the Village Pantry and was hit with the scent of freshly brewed coffee. The bells jingled above my head, and the woman behind the counter smiled as I walked into the store. There were some older men sitting at the both in the corner. One was drinking from a cup of coffee while the other one munched on a doughnut and read the newspaper. I crossed the store and went over to the display of doughnuts. I grabbed a bag before picking out several different assortments of doughnuts and put them into the bag.

I paid for them and walked back to Harry's. When I got there, I started a fresh pot of coffee, and as it was brewing, Harry walked into the kitchen. Harry looked surprised to see me. I held up the bag of doughnuts and said, "I got breakfast."

"Thanks," he said.

"Want some coffee?" I asked.

"Sure," he replied. He walked over to the counter and took out a coffee mug.

"Sit down," I said. "I'll get it."

"No, I'm fine," he said. He waited until the coffee stopped dripping and poured a cup of coffee for himself.

He put some sugar and creamer into his coffee and stirred for a moment before he took a sip from his cup. He took a doughnut out of the bag and walked over to the table with it and his coffee. I sighed, knowing I couldn't fix hurting Harry by buying him breakfast and serving him coffee, and it seemed he wasn't willing to even let me try.

I sighed and went to wake up Lottie before going upstairs to get Phoebe dressed. I was still without a babysitter, so it seemed Phoebe would be making another appearance at work until I could get something figured out. She hadn't been much trouble the last time I brought her along. Of course, we were just cleaning up stuff and taking it out. This time we would be reorganizing and putting things back, so I thought it might be a tad bit different.

I hoped Harry wouldn't mind, but then again I thought if he did, he probably wouldn't have been shy about saying so at this point. I now knew what it meant when men said they were in the doghouse. I believed that was where I was with Harry. I wondered if I should offer to sleep on the couch and let him have the bed now. I imagined he'd probably take me up on the offer. Not that I would've really minded that much. I didn't like sleeping in his bed anymore. It smelled like sweat, sex, and Harry. My first instinct was to wash them, but I found I didn't want to be rid of his smell. It was just the sex and sweat that bothered me.

When I'd lie down in bed to go to sleep, I was immediately reminded me of our night together. I'd fall a sleep thinking about it which resulted in my dreams being filled with reenactments of our activities along with a few new creative things added in there. I'd wake up sweaty, horny, and hating myself through the night. I'd go back to sleep only to have more of the same dreams. It was torture. Deliciously enjoyable, but torture nonetheless.

While the dreams were vivid, they weren't real, which was why I woke up hating myself. If I hadn't pushed Harry away, they could have been real. I'd never admit it to anyone, but I wanted them to be real. I liked falling asleep in his arms feeling warm and safe. Now he wouldn't even look at me, and I felt like a ridiculous, lovesick puppy. I suppose it served me right. I'd brought it all upon myself, after all.