AMBIVALENT {h.s} [ON HOLD]

Chapter 18.

A few minutes after Harry had left, I am fully dressed and on my way down the stairs after him. I find him sitting on his couch in the front room staring at the blank tv screen. I cautiously sit down next to him, leaving a few inches between us, careful not to touch him.

"What are you thinking?" I ask.

"About me. About you. About the world." He says. His voice is deep as usual, but somehow more calming and low.

"Good or bad?"

"Both. Depends on which part you're asking about."

"What are you thinking about yourself?" I ask.

"Just about how fücked up I am. How I can't do anything right most of the time."

I sigh and feel the urge to reach out and touch him, but I don't. "You're not fücked up, Harry." I haven't known him that long, but he's not fücked up. He has his quirks and his preferences, but everyone does.

"I really, really am." He says.

I don't say anything back to that because I have the feeling that no matter how much I argue with him over it, he won't believe me. I shouldn't waste my breath. Surprising me, Harry throws an arm around my shoulders and pulls me close to him. I nuzzle into him and can't resist finding his mouth with mine for a quick kiss.

We set silently in the dark for a bit, the minutes ticking by slowly. Neither of us speak up or move from our places. It's comforting to be in Harry's arms, no matter how much I don't want to admit it. I know I need to be guarding my heart but I could get used to this. Maybe.

"Let's go down to the basement and get wasted." Harry suggests.

I hesitate. "About that. I actually wanted to stop drinking alcohol. Or at least, slow way, way down. I need to get my life back together."

"Oh, well let's just have one drink then. Can you handle that?" Harry asks.

I nod and we start on our way to his little bar in the basement. Harry makes me some kind of fruity mixed drink when we get down there, and makes himself a dark colored drink that I assume is Jack Daniels. He sits down on one of the bar stools and I lean against the marble counter next to him, studying his lips as he takes a long swig.

"Harry, why can't I ever touch you. . . like when we're in bed together?" I ask. Not knowing was driving me crazy. I take a sip of my drink and wait for an answer of for him to snap at me.

"Please, Elena, I don't want to talk about it." Harry says, raking his hand through his hair. "Can't we just enjoy what we have together? You love it when I use my handcuffs on you." His tongue slips out and runs over one of the piercings on either side of his bottom lip.

"I do." I admit. "I would love to touch you once in a while, though. Earlier I would have loved to hold you close while we. . . done that. Scrape my nails down your back... tug at your hair."

Harry sighs. "I know, but just. . . I don't want that, okay? Either take me how I am, or leave me. It's your choice."

I don't want to leave him, even though we're not actually a couple or anything. I know what he means by leave him. He means never see him again, never hook up again. Each time he touches me in his bed, the more addicted I get. It's dangerous for my heart.

"Okay, whatever." I mumble, taking a long drink from my cup. I finish it quite fast and feel slightly off balance when I walk across the room to throw away the empty cup.

"Stay with me tonight." Harry says, finishing off his drink as well.

His words and the smug tone of his deep voice hit a nerve inside me. I don't hold back on anything that's crossing my mind. "You know what, no. I stay with you every time you ask, I'm here when you want me here, and I always do things your way, yet I never get any answers from you. Like what do you do for work to have an amazing house like this? Why won't you let me touch you? What's your story? I don't know anything about you. It's like you're a stranger who I just happen to hang out with a lot."

The look on Harry's face is one of pure shock. His full lips are parted and his eyes wide. I stand with my hands on my hips, waiting for him to tell me to leave and never come back. He stays silent, stirring the ice in his empty cup around with his straw.

"So you don't have anything to say to that?" I ask after a few minutes.

"You're right, Elena. You're right about everything you just said. Like I told you before, I'm so fücked up. I suck at communicating. I suck at trusting people. I suck at dealing with the demons of my past. Most of all, I suck at managing my emotions. I am good in bed, though." A smirk stretches at his lips but it's gone too quickly.

This time I'm the speechless one and I'm sure my face looks as shocked as his did only a minute ago. If I want to get my life back together, staying around Harry isn't going to make it easy. It's going to make it much, much harder, especially with his always changing feelings about me. I am the same way about him, though, I suppose. I can never make my mind up about how I feel about him.

"Let's go to bed. I'll stay with you tonight."

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