I feel like my story isn't finished until I give you guys something to listen to, so : http://8tracks.com/lindsaystyles/wonderwall
When I woke up, the bed was cold. Harry was gone.
I stayed in bed for 15 minutes more before I got out and shivered at the chilly temperature. It took a while to remember all that Harry had told me the night before.
My parents had lied to me.
It's not like they hadn't lied to me before. Small lies. Like that one time my prom date, Jon, had come to the door, and my parents had told me it wasn't him; that it was the maintenance man, who had come to fix our toilet. Ten minutes later, Jon was throwing rocks at my window.
Some might think that the lies my parents told me were horrible lies, and that they were horrible parents. I always ignored them, because when someone says you have bad parents, all you think is that you have the best parents in the world.
Now I realize that they really were horrible.
I opened Harry's closet and pulled another plaid shirt out of it. I pulled the wool close to my nose and smelled.
"Harry."
I shook my head.
I remembered again.
But... It was my voice... and... It sounded like... sex.
If I remember our whole intercourse at some point, I will just be watching porn of us in my head.
I shook my head, shuddered, and gagged a little. Not that I think sex with Harry wouldn't be amazing. I just think it's a really weird thought.
Because I don't remember it happening.
"Harry?" I called down the hallway after I had pulled some of my old, torn jeans on.
No answer.
I groaned. If he wasn't here, then where was he? And what was I supposed to do until he got home.
I walked into the kitchen. There on the red, worn table sat a Wal-Mart bag full of clothes. A note sat inside the bag.
Good morning beautiful. These are your clothes that I put in the basement for a while.
Of course he would be too sad to see anything that reminded him of me.
If you don't want to wear my clothes, you can change into these. Could you put them away? Into your drawer in my room? I hope it won't be too much trouble. I love you.
-Harry.
I traced my finger over the abnormally large signature at the bottom. His handwriting was beautiful - scratchy and rough, but elegant at the same time.
I knew he wanted me to put the clothes away so I would remember something. I had remembered a lot in the past few days - the lamp, the party, and the *groan* sex noise.
I stuck Harry's note in my pocket, then pulled the surprisingly heavy bag from the table. I heard a few glass clinks at the bottom of it.
As soon as I spilled everything onto Harry's comforter things started to pile back into my head.
"Harry, where are we going?!"
"I can't tell you," Harry whispered into my ear. Shivers went down my spine when his hot breath hit my ear. He kissed my cheek, his lips lingering for a moment.
"Why?" I asked. A make-shift t-shirt blindfold was tied tightly around my head. The low rumble of the truck told me that we were driving slow.
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