Chapter 16

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Present Day

Sephora's Hotel Room


Harry sat adjacent from me now, his head in his head and tears brimming in his eyes. The tea we had previously fussed over had lost all appeal. Lightly, he rubbed his hands over his face and sighed. He seemed as if he didn't know how to reply to my short summary of how I got to this point. 

"I drowned into a deep stage of depression for about 5 months after that." I continued, breaking the  growing silence.

 "I wouldn't eat much and honestly, I didn't have much money to eat.  I remember going to sleep and waking up in the hospital. House keeping found me unconscious and malnourished. The doctors just figured I was a model so they didn't send me to the psychiatric ward. After I was released, I went into cycles of learning to love myself completely."

Harry reached out and grabbed my hand, a tear escaping from his green eye. Lightly, as if I was fragile, he rubbed my hand and created light bursts of heat between us. He bit his pink lips and let out a sigh in preparation to speaking. 

"I'm so sorry that happened to you." He began. "I'm so sorry you have to deal with this mess. You've been through enough. I feel terrible...." 

His voice began to trail off and he sounded as if he felt a sense of guilt. I didn't question him about it, however. I stayed quiet and allowed him time to gather his thoughts to continue when he felt best.

"I was honestly irate upon hearing I'd have a fake relationship. I do so much acting every day in front of cameras I couldn't stand having to fake another aspect of my life. These media charades are one of the most dreaded things in the industry." Harry stated.

"Meeting  you, however, my mind slowly changed. From the moment I met you I felt stunned and at ease with this. Even so, now I feel like this is one of the best things to happen to me. I feel as though I was meant to."

I felt a lump in the back of my throat begin to form.  Starting signs of  moisture also began to form in my eyes. Slightly, I squeezed his much larger hand for comfort. 

"I don't think you mean one of the best, Harry." I corrected. 

I thought about all of the amazing things he endures, sometimes even on a daily basis. Was I really considered one of them?

"I wholeheartedly mean that, Sephora. You deserve the best." he assured me. "You deserve the world." 

I looked down at our joined hands and smiled. I'd spent many days just sitting in this very hotel room without any contact besides a few mandatory meetings. Now, I had a great friend who sported clear intentions and was genuine with his words.  My smile widened at that sudden realization. 

We sat there like that for a while in comfortable silence. It's one of the few times where the absence of sound suited the situation and bothered neither party. It was truly tranquil in some ways. 

"Do you want to watch a movie or something?" he burst. I smiled and nodded at the idea. He quickly signed into his Netflix account on the hotel's smart TV whilst I made popcorn. Pouring the buttery snack into a white bowl, I instinctively grabbed the salt. 

Freezing, I turn around and called into the only other full sized room. "Do you like salt on your popcorn?" I asked. "I'm not big on salt but I prefer salty popcorn over sweet." he called back in his raspy voice. I sighed to myself as I decided to sprinkle just a taste of salt over the popcorn. Some would argue that it's already salt enough or even too salty. I'd beg to differ.  

I brought the bowl into the main room and set it down on the coffee table. Harry sat on the couch flipping through multiple movies and shows. "What are you in the mood for?" he asked. "Why don't we watch a show or something?"

I thought about a few shows I've been wanting to start as he continued to scroll through the items. "Is there any specific genre?" he asked. "Something lighthearted." I said. "I feel like we could use a laugh or two." He nodded and filtered to the comedy section. There was a show called 'Brickleberry' and we both agreed to check it out. Within ten minutes of the first episode we both were in fits of laughter and popcorn was spilled over the floor. We stayed up and watched every episode of all three season. Many hours, two bags of popcorn, and many sodas later, we were spread out on the couch under two separate blankets I pulled from the bed, our stomachs sore from laughter. 

"Sephora?" he called, breaking the silence. 

With a smile. I raised my head to meet his gaze. 

"Yea?" I replied softly. 

His face grew a large, playful grin from ear to ear.

"I still prefer hot tea."

He and I both hurled into fits of laughter.

And for the first time, that hotel room was filled with pure joy instead of sorrow. 






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