Summertime & Butterflies

Thirty-Five

As soon as Harry caught sight of the trio of amateur paparazzos at the bar, he grabbed Olivia's wrist and led her outside without bidding his friends farewell or giving Olivia a chance to apologise to Jeff's poor sister. Olivia knew she could text Glenne and she would relay the apology, but the girl deserved a proper apology. Whether she would accept it was another story.

"Ouch!" Olivia cried out as Harry's grip tightened. She yanked her arm away from him and glared. "Jesus, I'm sorry! I didn't know!"

"I don't want to fucking talk about it," Harry snapped, his pace quickening as he strode towards the waiting town car. "Just get in the car."

"Quit fucking telling me what to do, Harry," Olivia shot back, though she obeyed his demands and forcefully pulled open the back door, slumping into the seat before slamming the door after her. She watched as Harry climbed in next to her, avoiding her eyes. Olivia sighed. She hated disappointing Harry.

The drive home took just under an hour, and Harry and Olivia didn't speak the entire time. She tried to apologise, needing to explain herself and make everything right again, but Harry shushed her. She knew he had enough public altercations for one night and didn't want the driver to overhear their conversation, but the tension between the two of them was making her feel sick.

As soon as the car stopped in front of Harry's house, he bolted from the backseat, striding to the front door awfully fast for a man who'd just had surgery. Him not waiting for her showed Olivia just how upset he was at her. She scrambled out of the car and chased after Harry, catching up with him at the front door.

"Can't you just... I said I was sorry!" Olivia tried as Harry slammed the front door behind them. Her overreaction was humiliating, and she wished she could turn back time and not act like a psycho girlfriend. She couldn't, but having Harry forgive her would be a start.

Harry sighed, running his hands through his hair. "Liv.... fuck. That was so fucking embarrassing. You overreacted so hard, and... you looked insane."

"I'm not insane!" Olivia interjected.

"Looked," Harry repeated. He started up the stairs, calling over his shoulder. "You can't act like that every time some chick is around me. Have I ever given you a reason to think that a girl hugging me will be something more?"

Uhm, yes, Olivia thought, but she kept her thought to herself. "No," she answered instead, sighing as she followed him. "But it's nothing to do with that. What if she was saying all the things the girls said in the bathroom, but to you? Like... telling you that you should be with her and not me because I'm gross and sucky and not good enough for you?" Olivia sighed again as she expressed her fears to Harry. She hated hearing the words she spoke, the words that made her sound like an insecure little girl.

"So what if she did?" Harry countered, huffing into the bedroom. "Who fucking cares? Do you really think I'm fucking dumb enough to be like 'oh, okay!' if someone had the nads to tell me I shouldn't be with you? Come the fuck on, Liv," he continued, pulling his shirt off before stomping into the bathroom. "Is this going to be our thing now? You acting like a fucking psycho and me constantly reassuring you? Cause I'm not about that life."

His words took Olivia by surprise and she let out an incredulous scoff. "Oh, you're not?" she asked him, crossing her arms across her chest. "So... if your fucking fans call me fat and ugly on the internet, and I get upset by it, then you're just going to break up with me?"

Harry laughed humourlessly. "Well, that's quite the dramatic spin you're putting on my words," he snapped, squeezing a copious amount of toothpaste onto his brush. "I'm saying you need to chill the fuck out. What happened tonight isn't you... You need to fucking check yourself, because this will not happen again."