Sex Lessons 2 [h.s//fanfic]

|Chapter 3|

I'm not sure how quickly I had reached Harry's side but there I was, clinging by his hip, gripping him just beneath his toned bicep. His gaze travels around my face before landing right on my eyes. He smiles weakly before diverting his attention to Robyn, who with curious eyes, seems to piece together who I am in relation to him based on my body language. Her full lips press into a line. Good. 

"I'm Harry and erm. . . this is my girl, Stella." I open my mouth to say hello to her, and she returns the clipped greeting. Harry points to our booth suggestively and immediately annoyance twists within me. I wanted to be alone with him, on our first day of college. I wanted to talk before class and absorb him selfishly with the diminishing minutes I had left with him. I hope she has somewhere to go so she doesn't sit with us.

 I have no such luck. 

"Thanks." She awkwardly slides into the booth, Harry thankfully sliding in next to me. Her gaze is lost and averted, she almost seems lifeless, tired. I know the feeling. 

Harry pulls his tray to him and breaks his sausage link to pieces. "Your first day too?" He speaks up, clearing the rasp caught in his throat. She plays with the salt shaker and slides it away, uninterested. 

"No, I'm a sophomore. I can't wait to transfer." She sighs. Her eyes travel over Harry's face, curious. My stare hardens on her and she notices, looking away. My phone buzzes on the table. I smile at the spam of messages my father sends me in response to the pictures I had snapped earlier of campus. He loves the pictures I've sent him, which among them, was one of Harry and I. Harry had stuck his tongue out to poke my cheek, and I, unsuspecting of the action, squeezed my eyes closed mid laugh. He had pressed the capture button for me. Now it's his lock screen. I try to drift back into the conversation, but it's evident that I haven't missed much.

"Why?" Harry cautiously treads. The air is awkward and I impatiently check my phone. I don't have long until I have to walk into creative writing class.

"The classes are okay, but they're large, unfocused. The parties are huge but I've grown tired to them. And the guys. . ." She trails, chuckling dryly. "Well, you can tell with this imprint I'm sporting on my cheek how my love life has been." 

He studies her face and I observe her as she squares her shoulders, watching him back. His fists curl under the table. He wants to say something I can tell, but his lips press together tightly. 

"He doesn't deserve you." I say, surprising her, and myself. 

Her eyes open a little more. She's shocked. Is she not used to hearing something positive? Truthful? I don't know her on a personal level, but I know well enough that no girl deserves a guy who discards their dignity and respect without remorse. She stares at me, absorbing my words. 

"I. . . I know." She mumbles.

"Then why?" 

"Why what?"She blinks, trying to think I can tell. She seems collected suddenly, a fake kind of collected. Almost as if she wants to prove to me that she's unaffected by my direct questions. Harry watches her for her answer too. He eats breakfast, picking at it disinterestedly. 

"Theo. Why are you still with someone who isn't afraid to hurt you. Publicly at that?" My mouth isn't connecting with my brain. I know I'm penetrating something within her. I can tell by the way her blue eyes harden and how her lips pull into a grim, sorrowful line. 

"Aren't we all addicted to what cripples us the most?" 

Her words hang in the air. Except  I hang onto them, crumple them, and toss them away. I wish I could relate to what she says, but I can't. Harry on the other hand, nods in apprehension. He takes a sip of coffee and mumbles under his breath but I hear him.