Slight Pressure

19. Communication, or Lack Thereof

"This is kidnapping! You can't do this Harry!" Riley shrieked.

In lieu of a handy, injectable sedative, Harry had threatened to use his belt to bind her hands to keep her under control in the cab. The driver had shot him a disturbed look in the rearview mirror.

"Don't worry, mate. We aren't going to go all Fifty Shades on you," Harry winked. "We aren't that kinky."

Harry's ploy had worked. The cabbie rolled his eyes and mumbled something about wild kids and the downfall of society.

Harry managed to keep one arm locked around her waist as he marched Riley into the elevator in his building. As soon as the doors closed, Riley wriggled free and started going off again.

"I don't know who you think you are Mr. Doctor, but you are out of line! There are laws against kidnapping people off the street and forcing them to come home with you!"

"Riley!" Harry finally yells back.

"What?"

"Shut up. Please." His head is still a little swimmy from the shots, although most of the alcohol had sort of rolled off into belly buttons and waistbands and he just really doesn't want to think about what all went down at Franco's. Luckily the brisk, night air helped to clear his head some. That and his intense focus on the hyper-charged girl with whom he's bumping heads.

Riley is sulking in a corner of the elevator with her arms crossed over her bare midriff, her breasts pushed further out her top because of the squeeze.

"Did you come to the bar to find me?"

No answer. No eye contact.

"Did you want to see me?"

"Hrmph."

"Who was it that pulled me out of the bar?"

Eyeroll.

"This is not kidnapping, Riley"

"You threw me in a car against my will, Harry."

With a slight jolt, the elevator comes to a halt and pings as the doors slide open. Harry exits, but leaves a hand in the door to prevent it from closing. Riley doesn't budge.

"Look, Riley, I wouldn't force you to do anything you don't want to. So, do you want to be with me? Talk this through and see where we can go from here?"

This manages to get a one shouldered shrug of acknowledgement.

"I've had a supremely shitty day. I made some assumptions this morning and they were wrong. I also made some judgements that I'm ashamed of. Personally, I want to set the record straight. Do you know why?"

Riley risks a look at him, but keeps her arms protectively across her body.

"Because I could bloody well fall for you, Rye. Hard. Because I realize that even if all of the shitty things I thought, were actually true... none of it matters."

"But they aren't true."

"True or not, I know that stuff doesn't matter, but you do," Harry reaches a hand into the lift, hoping she will take it.

Slowly, she places her hand in his. "Okay."

Inside his and Louis' apartment, Harry finally lets go of Riley's hand. "Would you like a cuppa? My mum always says a cuppa tea makes everything better. And she's right about most stuff."

At the sound of his voice, a fluffy ball of grey and white lightning flashes through the room, attacking Harry's ankle.

"Ow, shit! Labie, knock it off," Harry grabs hold of the tiny whirling dervish and pulls. With her kitten claws extended into Harry's skinny jeans, it takes an effort to disengage her.