TABOO

Thirty Three.

"When I look at you" - Miley Cyrus

Stella:
Six months later:

I'm standing on the red carpet in L.A for my very first movie premiere. This was my dream, it's what I wanted from a very young age. I'm living out my dream, but somehow it feels more like a nightmare. Most of the cast can't stand each other after being trapped together in cramped spaces for months. Asher and I aren't together anymore, but we're pretending to be for PR. His hand is stiff in mine, it's like we're robots in human shells: cold and unfeeling.

I give huge fake smiles to all the paparazzi and cameramen who are taking hundreds of photos of us. Our movie is supposed to be one of the biggest romances of the year. Fans are mixed in with the paparazzi, and I give them a wave. My eyes fall to the group of people to my left and I spot Mom and Harry cheering me on.

I'd last seen Harry at Kate's wedding six months ago when I told him I couldn't stop thinking about him. He had tried to comfort me and suggested that we could maybe see each other secretly again. It was too much pressure, too many secrets, and I didn't need anything else crushing me when I was supposed to be having the time of my life. I had told him that I didn't think I could do it again.

I could have.

Despite Harry and I being so wrong for each other, it always felt right when we were together. I wave at him and he gives me a half smile. I go through the motions of the premiere, say my practiced answers to the interviewers' questions, and pretend to be over the moon about Asher and I. It's all a struggle that's eating at my well being with each passing minute.

The second that I'm free to go, I climb into an Uber that takes me to Mom's house. Her and Harry are there and seem startled at my arrival.

"Why aren't you at the after party?" Mom asks as soon as she sees me.

Harry just stares at me with an unreadable expression, and I can tell he knows something is going on with me. I remember how he used to sense my emotions so easily.

"I just didn't feel like it." I answer robotically. "My room is still how it was before, right?"

"Of course your room is still the same. Is everything alright?"

I excuse myself upstairs with the facade of not feeling well. Later that night, it's like deja vu when Harry creaks my bedroom door open. I'm already in my silk nightie and nestled under the covers as he sets on the edge of my bed. My mind flashes back to the first few times he'd done this and how exhilarating it had felt. The first time he kissed me in the guest house, the first time he touched me.

"Whats really going on with you, little sister?" He asks. "Why aren't you with your cast? Your new friends? Your boyfriend?"

"None of its real. None of us actually like each other. Everyone is hungry for fame. Asher isn't my boyfriend anymore. We're nothing but a PR stunt to get good publicity for the movie." I explain in a monotone voice.

Harry stays silent for a long time. Maybe he doesn't know how to respond to that, and I don't blame him. The whole situation is so messed up; I'm so messed up. He reaches over slowly and starts running his hand through the long tresses of my hair. I don't stop him.

"Are you happy?" I ask.

"I've been better."

The silence between us stretches as he continues to play with my hair. The tension in the room thickens to a density almost unbearable. Both of us are biting our tongues, not saying what we're really feeling. I remember last summer where that had gotten us. No where.

"I miss us." I whisper.

When Harry doesn't respond right away, I start to think that he doesn't feel the same. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything. The tension becomes so thick that I could cut it with a knife. The sound of his steady breathing mixing with mine is the only sound.

"I miss us, too." He whispers back. "You've been living less than twenty minutes away from me for months and never even called to say hi." His warm hand moves from my hair to slide down my arm.

I hadn't called him because I would have gone running back to him in a heartbeat. I missed his voice too much, missed the way he touched me. Missed the way he loved me. I had tried so hard to make it work with Asher, but it just wasn't right.

Harry leans down close to me then, and his familiar scent wraps around me. My breath hitches in my throat as his lips near mine, but he doesn't kiss me. He just hugs me and tries to give some comfort. I try to convince myself that I don't want him to kiss me, but deep down I know that's a lie. I would love to have his mouth on mine again.

I've come so far and it's been so long. I haven't kissed him in months. We were finally out living our own lives. But he smells so good, feels so familiar. I'm feeling sad and vulnerable and emotional. He's strong, comforting, and exactly what I'm craving. I reach up and pull his face to mine, missing his long curls that used to curtain us. His lips are centimeters away from mine, his breath tickling the corners of my mouth.

Slowly and wordlessly we bring our lips together. Soft brushes. Gentle movements. Heavy breathing. And his hand slips into my hair.

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