The ending of Sarah and Harry's story, will they or won't they?
It has been five years since Harry and Sarah have seen each other. Sarah is now 29 and she is happily living in New York and pursuing her career. Harry is now 30 and he is living in Ho...
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"Do you want to get cleaned up before you leave?" Harry and I are now fully dressed, the both of us still trying to organize ourselves so it seems as though nothing has ever happened. I'm mentally reminding myself to clean the counter later, clean up any evidence of Harry and I.
"Are you offering me a shower in Elouise's apartment?" Harry sounds almost confused, as if he doesn't understand why I'd suggest he take a shower in, to him, a strangers apartment. Part of me just didn't want Lily to find out, didn't want her to smell me on the skin beneath his cross necklace.
"I don't know." I put my face in my hands, embarrassed that I ever even said anything. I hear Harry move, his feet now standing parallel from mine. I'm starting to wonder why he's still here, why he's still trying to make me feel safe and comfortable before he walks right through that door.
Harry pulls my hands down, his eyes looking into mine. He is still the most attractive person I've ever been face-to-face with, still the only person that can get me to melt right within their gaze. A small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, his dimples and now developed smile lines showing through.
"I probably should clean up, and so should you." I suck in a sharp breath, understanding fully what Harry wants now. We still have three hours, three longing hours of just him and I together. Our final day is almost over, and I'm not going to stand back and watch it flash by me.
I intertwine Harry's fingers with mine, allowing him to follow me to the bathroom. I don't think either of us are able to go another round, but something tells me that we don't need another one to know just how intimate this is.
I close the bathroom door behind us even as we're the only people in the apartment. It makes it feel as though we're in our own world, as though no one else can come in and tell us to stop. This is something Harry and I never got, something that the nature of our breakup took from us.
We discard our clothing quickly, the both of us just haphazardly throwing articles of clothing onto the floor. We both step into the shower once the water is warm enough, our bodies immediately wrapping within each other. His arms go around my back as I rest my head on his chest, my hair sticking to his wet skin.
"I love you." I say, the words slipping out before I can even stop them. Part of me is hoping that Harry didn't hear them, that the cascading water is too loud for the both of us. I just need him to not hate me, to not blame me.
"Please, Sarah, don't." That's all Harry says as we continue to just sway beneath the water, my heart shattering right by his. I try not to cry, not to let him see any stray tears escape. What had I been expecting? That he'd love me back after all of these years, that he'd remember how much we had loved each other.
We rinse ourselves off, not using any body wash just in case it leaves a scent behind on his body. I step under the water first, washing my body and running my fingers through my knotted hair. Harry watches me the whole time, his eyes not leaving my frame. It makes me want to put on a show, to do a little dance just to torture Harry.
