Speak |h.s. a.u.|

Chapter 89

Everyone gathered at Anne's house for lunch the next week. Anne decided that it was time for her children to meet her girlfriend, Ella. Of course, everyone seemed to be more nervous than the next person, but so excited to finally meet. Anne being in a relationship had turned into a positive situation rather than negative, because she finally opened up to Harry after realizing how easily she lost him the first time.

Helping Anne cook meals for everyone became a normal thing for Annabelle to do. Every time they visited each other, a meal was involved somehow. So Annabelle fixed the vegetables while Anne checked on the meatloaf, closed the oven and set a timer for twenty more minutes, then found Ella and wrapped her arms around the slightly shorter girl from behind. Annabelle smiled. She couldn't help but miss that feeling.

Harry watched them with joy in his eyes. He felt as if his family were growing and his relationships were being mended- except one. He felt this hole in his chest; this emptiness that faltered his focus during conversations. As Ella was telling Harry about how she grew up in Mullingar (a place Harry had always wanted to visit), his eyes drifted over to Annabelle. She was alone, leaning on the sink with one hip and her arms folded over her body as if she could hide herself behind them. He felt something in his stomach that he hadn't felt in a long time, followed by a pang in his chest that he could only describe as a feeling of longing and desire.

When his eyes found Ella again, he noticed that his mother had joined the picture. He couldn't deny that it felt odd to see Anne being affectionate towards someone who wasn't his late father, but it made him so happy that his mother found someone again after so long of being alone.

Harry wanted to hold Annabelle the way his mother held her love. He wanted to pick her up and take her far away, where no one could bother them and they could share their love and passion without worry of it being ruined somehow. He felt it so strongly, and he wasn't sure exactly what happened to strike this nerve in his chest, but he started to remember the feeling of always wanting to be by her side and have his hands touching her in some way, to be connected to her no matter what they were doing or where they were.

While everyone ate their overly sized lunch, Harry stole glances at his girlfriend and he felt like he had just met her. When he used to steal secret glances at her while she ignored what was happening around her and daydreamed about going back to America to visit her old home and family. When he used to tap her legs under the table with his feet, making her grin and look down at her plate in hopes that her parents wouldn't notice. He missed those feelings, and maybe the secrecy of loving someone was something that he missed too, but that thought pushed him over the edge and into gratefulness.

"I need to talk to you." Annabelle felt Harry's lips whisper against her ear while she washed dishes. Chills were sent down her spine and she looked over at him, enjoying the warmth radiating from his hands that gently held her waist.

After finishing dishes (because of course she wasn't going to leave Anne, Ella, or a very hormonal and sleepy Gem to finish the chore), Harry held her hand while they walked up the stairs and found their way into his old bedroom that still held most of his old furniture.

She sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for something to happen. Nervousness began to build in her stomach as Harry combed through his insanely long curls with his right hand and rubbed the back of his neck with the left hand. Silence felt suffocating at this point, because that's all they knew anymore.

"I can't keep doing this, Annabelle," were the first words Harry spoke. Her eyebrows furrowed as she watched him come closer. "It's not fair to you." Harry's sentence was short, as if he couldn't figure out what to say. The fear in her stomach grew as Harry continued pacing.

"I just think," he sighed, "We've been so distant and it's like there's something missing, you know? I don't know what it is, but it's all driving me mad." Harry finally sat down beside her, taking her hands in his gently. His hands were warm, and she wanted to curl up in bed with his warm body.

"I can't do this any longer." Suddenly his words were a whisper, his eyes slowing moving around their laps and taking too many moments to find her eyes. She pulled her hands away and Harry noticed the big frown on her face and the tears in her doe eyes.

"No, no," His hand moved to her cheek. "Not- no, I didn't mean it that way. Shit." Harry shook his head, realizing just how horribly he worded his thoughts. He wanted to hit himself for making her think they were breaking up.

"We're okay, Annabelle. It can only get better from here, right? We're okay, and I want us to get better, I mean I have so many things to work on and maybe you do too- of course you do too, what am I even saying?" His words trailed off into senselessness and Annabelle's lips curved into a small and knowingly grin. He only rambled this way when he was nervous or flustered. Her face leaned closer into his touch.

"Wow," he sighed, grinning even wider than she was when he looked up to see her amused features. "You're the only person who has ever looked at me so lovingly, even after I word-vomit." He laughed quietly, wanting to hold this girl closer than ever before.

So many feelings were rushing back to both of them, and it began to click. Intimacy. They missed the intimacy and calming moments that were thrown out of the window after their last argument. It seemed so simple; intimacy being at the tips of their fingers and tongues, so why hadn't they shared any lately? Guilt, maybe, or anger? Had they been holding in past emotions instead of healthily releasing them through tender-hearted conversations late at night while Harry sat across from her on the couch, watching her concentrate on writing every single word perfectly? They messed up, they missed opportunities to become closer and patch up the small holes in their hearts that were once ripped open by the other person. It finally clicked for both of them at this moment, and it seemed like a blessing that their souls were so connected to understanding their situations and relate through their emotions so strongly and often.

"I'm sorry." Harry's voice was light, feeling such strong emotions towards this girl and this situation for the first time in too long. His other hand moved to her lower back, gently pulling her closer. Her eyes blinked slowly as she fell under his trance.

"I'm sorry." She repeated in an even smaller whisper than him, one of her hands resting atop his, over her cheek. Then Harry couldn't stand the space and silence any longer. He wanted her so badly, all of her, or as much as he could get of her in this moment.

Before her lips shut completely, he pressed his lips against them. This kiss felt different from before. Their last kiss was full of sorrow and guilt, but this kiss felt like a new beginning. Being full of love, hope, and lust. They couldn't get enough of each other in this moment- pulling each other closer, kisses progressively gaining speed, and soon Harry laid over Annabelle as their kissing continued.

"I'll be better," He sighed into her mouth, "I promise." Sealing his words this another kiss, he leaned his forehead on hers and they began to catch their breath. They could finally catch their breath.