Ella had been extremely distant these past couple of weeks. She rarely spent time with me, and she'd constantly make up unbelievable excuses as to why.
"I have so much work to do."
"I already made plans for today."
"I'm really tired, I think I'm gonna stay home tonight."
I ran over the things I might have said or done to upset her. I decided to give her some space; maybe I was being overbearing. But after four days of us not communicating, I was becoming worried.
I resorted to calling her, hoping to resolve everything by talking. If she would answer, that is.
I reached across the nightstand, fingers fumbling with my phone as I stared at the lock screen. It was picture of us, backs towards the camera, our fingers entwined as we walked hand in hand. I couldn't remember who took the picture. I believe it was Zayn. My thumb scrolled through contacts to search for Ella's name. I brought the phone to my ear after finding it, the countless dial tones seeming to drag on longer than needed.
"Hey," she answered dully, in contrast to her usual cheerful tone. I'd always loved how I could hear her smile when not talking face to face. But that Ella wasn't around now.
"I miss you," I sighed, annoyed by my own desperate tone.
"What do you mean you miss me? I see you everyday."
"Not much lately," I stated matter-of-factly.
"Well, I've been busy, Harry." I knew she didn't want to have this conversation; it was evident in her voice.
"What's going on, Ella?" I asked abruptly.
"Nothing."
"Then why are you being like this?"
"Look, there's this paper I have to do, and it's due tomorrow, so I think - "
"You don't do papers in photography class," I interrupted. "You told me that two weeks ago."
Momentary silence emitted from both of our ends, until I heard a heavy exhale.
"Can you come over here? I really, really need to talk to you."
A grin creeped it's way onto my face, but I wasn't sure why. "Be there in ten minutes."
___________________
I chewed at my fingernail nervously as I waited for Harry.
How could I tell him? He made it obvious that he didn't want children. If he didn't want any in twenty years, why would he want one now? Would he leave? Would he walk away? Or would he stay and tell me he loves me and that we'll get through this together? I felt as if I was drowning in my own questions, swirling around in a whirlpool of paranoia.
A rapid knocking on the door drew me away from my thoughts.
My heart pounded in my ears as I rose from the couch, feet moving towards the door. I hesitantly turned the knob, being greeted by an overly-excited Harry.
Before I could even say hello, his hands were on my cheeks, pulling my lips to his. They moved against mine leisurely, but passionately, and I swore for a moment I forgot why I asked him to come.
He drew away, foreheads pressed together. The pad of his thumb ran across my bottom lip.
"Missed these," he breathed.
I smiled as he pecked my lips once more. My face gradually dropped, reality sinking in.
"What's wrong, babe?" he questioned in concern.
