MORE (Completed)

Chapter 28

The air felt a little warmer that afternoon. The golden-brown leaves still clinging to the tall trees seemed brighter somehow, and even the grey-tinged sky looked alive. Maybe it was because our plan had worked — our carefully constructed charade had been enough to scare the rich little bastard away. Maybe it was because Noah was no longer a threat. Or maybe — most likely — it was because I was heading to Niall's place, where Harry was waiting.

It was all of those things. But mostly him.

Standing outside Niall's door, I smoothed my hair, adjusted my coat, and tried to steady the strange fluttering in my chest. It felt like showing up for an interview for a job you know you won't get — mixed with the thrill of meeting someone from your past who still owns a piece of your heart.

It made no sense. But to me, it made perfect sense.

"Hey, you're early!" Harry grinned as he opened the door, eyes lighting up the way they always had when they landed on me.

"I guess I walked faster than I thought," I said honestly, taking him in. That smile — wide, genuine, full of mischief and warmth — pulled at something deep in me.

"That's great. Come in, love," he said softly, pressing a kiss to my cheek. It made me blush like a schoolgirl, and I nearly giggled.

We'd agreed to meet on neutral ground, and Niall had kindly offered his place. I hadn't seen Harry since our plan had unfolded. Now here he was — relaxed, charming, intoxicating.

"Did he hand in the assignment?" Harry asked as we settled into the living room.

"He did," I said, and then, "He handed it in the minute he left your ambush." I smiled faintly. "But it was never about the assignment, Harry. It was a power play."

"Was it any good?" he teased.

"I haven't read it. Gave him a D- just for fun," I joked, and he burst out laughing.

"That's my girl. I love it when you're all spiteful and petty." His tone was playful, but my heart stuttered at those words. My girl. Jason used to call me that.

And now...

"We need to talk."

"Would you like a drink?" I asked, suddenly unsure.

"No, thank you."

"Do I need a drink?" he asked with a raised brow. "You just said we need to talk."

"Harry—"

He crossed the room to the bar and poured himself something dark and unfamiliar. After a long sip, he perched on the edge of the table, eyes locked on mine.

"Shoot," he said.

I took a breath. "First—"

"Oh, there's a list," he joked, gesturing for me to sit. It made me want to smile and cry at once.

"First," I began again, locking eyes with him, "I want to thank you. For dropping everything. For coming home when I needed you."

"There's no need to thank me," he started to say, but I stopped him with a look.

"Please let me finish. Otherwise, I won't be able to get through it."

He nodded. "Okay. Say your piece. Then you'll let me say mine?"

"I promise."

"First," I repeated, "thank you for dropping everything and flying home for me. You were in the middle of filming, you had responsibilities, and you still came. That means the world."