AMBIVALENT {h.s} [ON HOLD]

Chapter 26.

I knock on Harry's front door, my insides trembling and butterflies in my stomach. Since when was I ever nervous like this? Since never.

Bree opens the door, a frown covering her face when she sees who it is. I thought we were cool with each other. What's her problem?

"Where's Harry?" I ask.

"He doesn't want to see you." Bree answers coldly.

"I think that's his decision, not yours. Where's he at?"

Bree closes the door in my face. What the fück? Did Harry actually say that he didn't want to see me? My heart sinks that maybe I can't do this, shouldn't do this. Was Harry's anger this morning pointed toward me when he dismissed me? Had he recovered from being angry about the fight and decided that I was bad luck or something? My mind swirled with hundreds of different possibilities.

"You know what, Bree? I do have a phone. I can just call him if I really want to speak to him." I yell, hoping she can hear me through the closed door. "And you can't stop me!"

I pull my phone from my pocket and scroll down to find Harry's number. I really do need a picture of him for my caller I.D photo. I'm about to push call when the door flings open, making me jump back. Harry appears in front of me, shirtless with small streams of water running from his wet hair. Fück, my body starts to tingle at the sight.

"Hey," he says, not angrily, but not playfully like he had been earlier in the day. He steps back, motioning me to come inside. I am not fueled with the confidence that I had at The Smoothie Shack from Kelsey's motivation speech anymore.

"Hey, I'm sorry I'm back here so soon when you said you have things to do today." I start off as soon as I'm inside.

"It's fine. I already have it done anyways." He heads toward the stairs and I follow.

Bree shows up in the hallway when we get to the top with her arms crossed over her chest. "Harry, what the hell?"

"Don't start," Harry snaps at her. If she's this annoying, I question why Harry is even letting her stay here.

Bree approaches me and grabs my arm. "It's your fault. This is all your fault. You're making Harry's life worse. You're making him crazy."

"Bitch, don't fückin' touch me." I grab her wrist, pushing her away from me.

"Bree, cut it out or get out. One of the two." Harry snaps at her.

"It's true, though. She's making you crazy, Harry." She says, walking down the stairs.

Harry takes my hand in his, and we make our way to his bedroom at a pace so fast that I almost have to jog to keep up. He slams the door behind us and hurls hisself onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. I am nothing but a bag full of nerves; my hands are trembling, palms sweaty, and my heart hammering. Since when have I ever been this nervous over a guy?

I walk over and set on the edge of the bed, wanting to reach out and grab his hand but I resist the urge.

"So, why did you come here, anyways?" Harry asks. "Is something wrong?"

"I wanted to tell you something." I pause and then decide I just need to get it over with or I'm never going to. "I have feelings for you. . . I like you, a lot."

Harry sits up then. "How could you possibly have feelings for me? I'm rude to you, I don't let you touch me even though I know it's what you want, and I push you away for no reason."

At least he didn't laugh at me or tell me to leave.

"I don't know, but I do. I didn't even want to admit to myself at first. There's more to you than what's on the surface. You're obviously smart with that job of yours, and you're actually sweet underneath your tough exterior."

"I'm not sweet. I'm screwed up. Broken."

"Good in bed," I add to his list with a laugh.

"Elena, you can't like me. I don't do relationships, I don't date, I don't have girlfriends. You know this."

My heart drops into my stomach. Harry's right. I knew that he didn't do relationships from the very beginning. I have failed myself in my attempt to not get hurt. Despite my best efforts, Harry has gotten to me and I can't shake off the things that I feel for him.

"Yeah, I know." I say, trying my best to keep it together. A memory of Harry talking to me in bed one night emerges then, his words replaying clearly. He still thinks I didn't hear him.

"I guess I was more hurt than mad. I thought we felt the same about each other. I thought that maybe you were starting to like me or something. I don't know."

Im not going to let him off so easy and I'm not going to give up just yet. I remind him of his words that night and his face goes blank.

"We're those words fake?" I ask.

"No."

"Then how the hell do you actually feel about me, exactly? Do you like me or not? It's not that difficult." I demand of him.

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