Priory // h.s.

chapter thirty-one

Harry and I roll down the windows of the car as we coast along the narrow backroads beyond Priory, and I lean out slightly, letting the soft wind blow my hair against my cheeks. If it weren't for the imminent danger of the situation, I can almost convince myself that we're merely out for a late summer night drive.

Except we're not, and it's all too evident in the tension hovering between us.

Peeking at Harry out of the corner of my eye, I study his sharp profile. The light strikes him just right, accentuating his sharp features, bringing stars to his jade eyes, and turning his chocolate curls into a dreamy shade of glowing silver. 

He clears his throat and I turn my eyes towards the windshield, trying to pretend I wasn't staring at him. Hiding a smirk, he says, "So."

"So." I sigh and run my fingers through my hair, attempting to untangle it; it's still rumpled from lying in bed and reading. No success.

Harry puts on a snooty accent, which is easy for him, considering he already has a British one. "Let us have a pleasant conversation, shall we?"

I snort loudly. "This is a serious mission, Harold," I say imperiously.

"We can still talk," he points out.

I fiddle with the button for the car window. "About what?"

He hums, fingers skimming along the top of the steering wheel. The hangar is apparently a little further away than we thought; of course, it has to be, so that no one stumbles upon it by accident. But we'll find it. You have to be looking for something to find it, right?

"Question."

"Answer," I say automatically, then add, "Maybe. Possibly. Depending on the question. I mean--"

 "Have you ever been in love?"

Well, of all the questions... that's not one I was expecting. I make a choking sound, gagging on my own spit as I struggle to sit up and gawk at Harry. "What kind of question is that?" I demand.

He refuses to meet my eyes. "Just wondering what your views are on it. Come on. It's only fair. I told you about Margaret. And about how I feel about love."

"Right. You think you're never going to fall in love again."

"I'm never going to let myself fall in love again," he corrects, confidently, like it's something he has supreme control over.

I trace loops on the back of my wrist. "No," I say softly. "I don't think I've ever been in love before."

"No one? Never?"

"A couple of boyfriends." I shrug. "It wasn't love. It was I'm-tired-of-never-having-a-date-to-dances and fuck-this-I'll-just-date-this-random-dude."

Harry lets out a short bark, and I get the feeling he's laughing at me. It's not in a mean way, though, and I don't mind in the least. "That's rough."

Again, I shrug. "There are worse things in life."

His expression falls. "Yeah," he whispers softly. "Yeah, there are."

"But," I hasten to add, "if I had to choose, I'd rather fall in love and lose it. Isn't that better than never loving at all?"

Brows knitting together, Harry says curtly, "It really isn't. You've never... been through that. I have. Having your heart break, I mean. God, it hurts more than I can ever say, because they're just gone. None of that 'feels like she's still watching me from the sky' shit. Just emptiness. Losing the one person you thought understood you, even if she never loved you half as much as you loved her. It majorly fucks you up. I'm not saying that it's not my fault I'm a bitter old douchebag, I'm just saying that there are reasons behind it..."