Anarchy

XIX. Denial

denial (noun): the action of declaring something to be untrue

Grace’s POV

My heart hammered against my ribs, both from the delightful surprise of Harry’s kiss and the sudden realization that a pair of eyes were fixed on us.  Harry dropped his hands abruptly from my face, taking a step away from me as he opened his mouth to speak.  He failed to say anything, however, and snapped his jaw shut again, watching Dax as if he were a bomb about to go off.  Dax’s eyes were wide and his mouth was hanging open in shock.  It appeared that, despite his many comments hinting at something between Harry and I, he hadn’t actually fully believed his own words to be true until right in that moment.

“What the hell?” he finally sputtered, his eyes jerking back and forth between Harry and I, both of us with guilty expressions on our faces.

“Dax,” Harry said calmly, as if talking down someone about to do something drastic. “It’s not what it looks like.”

I felt a sting of pain jolt through my heart at his denial, although to be fair, I didn’t actually know what was going on between us either.  It looked like we were together, but that was very much not the case.  It seemed every time we so much as touched each other, it happened on a whim.  There had been virtually zero discussion of what was going on, leaving me completely in the dark as to what Harry was feeling.

“Really? Because it looks like you just kissed her,” Dax said.  He still sounded shocked and dumbfounded.  My jaw stayed clenched tightly shut, not about to interject at all when I really couldn’t explain.  Harry had been the one sending me so many mixed signals so he could handle this.  He was so hot and cold that it was practically giving me whiplash, though I could feel that, despite his wishes, he held a small semblance of emotion for me. 

At least I hoped he did.

“Look, can we go talk about this somewhere else?” Harry said, glancing nervously over his shoulder.  He didn’t want anyone to overhear us and realize what had just happened.  Dax gaped at him.

“Sure, Harry, where would you like to go to discuss your secret relationship?” he said sarcastically.  It was difficult to tell if he was mad or not through the surprise still written across his features. 

“It’s not like that, I just told you,” Harry said in frustration.  He shoved his hand through his hair and huffed.  “Let’s go to mine and I’ll explain.”

“Fine. Lead the way,” Dax said, throwing his arm toward the door of the infirmary.  Without a glance in my direction, Harry stalked out the door, leaving us to follow him.  I had yet to speak and had no plans to until Harry explained.  I couldn’t deny that I was also looking forward to his explanation, because frankly I knew about as much as Dax did about the whole situation. 

All I knew was that I liked it when Harry kissed me and that I was feeling things for him that I definitely shouldn’t have been.  Every day we spent together, I learned more and more about him.  I had learned he wasn’t as tough as he wanted everyone to think, that he cared for people far more than he let on, and that he was far better than the rest of us.  Whenever he so much as looked at me, butterflies would erupt in my stomach and my skin would tingle with goose bumps. 

I hadn’t wanted it, but I couldn’t deny it any longer: I had developed feelings for Harry. 

We arrived at Harry’s hut, scattering my thoughts and twisting my stomach into a knot.  I was already nervous to hear what Harry would say, and I couldn’t suppress the awful feeling that whatever he would say would hurt.  My eyes drifted to his face where I took in his frown and the way his brows were tightly knit together, which only made the knot in my stomach twist tighter.