Evermore

Chapter 8

Harry and I sit together on the couch for what feels like hours. Countless episodes of Friends have passed and we've somehow ended up lying next to each other on the small couch, cuddling and holding each other as though we're afraid the other will disappear.

I don't know what to think of this. I really like Harry, something that absolutely terrifies me and something that I definitely didn't mean to let happen. How does he feel about me?

Obviously he can't mind being around me since he's still here. Maybe he feels bad for me. I did just load him with a bunch of depressing news about my past. 

That can't be it, right? He can't just be hanging around me because he feels bad for me. I refuse to believe that.

I wish I could just know what's going on in that pretty little head of his.

I look up at Harry to see that he's already looking down at me. "What are you thinking about?" he asks.

"What? Nothing," I brush it off.

"Don't lie to me, Allie," Harry warns and I sigh in defeat.

"I guess, us. Not that I'm saying there's an us!" I quickly backtrack, my mind getting the best of me. "I just...I don't know, I'm bad at explaining my feelings. Just trying to figure this out, I guess." I subconsciously avert my eyes and hide my face in the closest thing, which happens to be Harry's chest.

I sound like such an idiot.

Harry puts a finger under my chin and forces me to look up into his beautiful green eyes. His face is blank, unreadable, but I feel his heart beat faster in his chest.

"What are you saying?" his voice is quiet and his accent warms the sentence, reassuring me there is no judgement in it at all.

"I don't know," I exhale. "That's just what I was thinking about."

Harry takes a deep breath. His eyes shift around the room as his mind gathers his thoughts.

"I don't know how to explain this, either. We've only known each other for a little while but I feel like I've gotten to know you pretty well, Allie. And I...I really like you."

My heart jumps a little like a schoolgirl who just hugged her crush for the first time.

"I really like you too, Harry." His smile grows big, warming my heart and causing my smile to mimic his. "But I don't think I'm ready for anything serious, yet. As much as I hate to admit it, I'm still fucked up from Iraq and I should focus on fixing me," I admit, immediately regretting it as Harry's smile quickly fades. I've never admitted my problems with PTSD to anyone out loud; not my mom or best friends, or the countless therapists I've been forced to go to. "I'm sorry," I whisper as I sit up, resting my elbows on my knees and putting my head in my hands.

"Alessandra," Harry surprises me by using my full name and sits up next to me. I turn my head to look at him. He pushes the hair in front of my face to behind my ear. His fingers softly graze my cheek and I close my eyes in serenity at his touch. "Stop apologizing, love." His voice is soft.

"I'm just confused," I admit, my voice just as quiet as his.

"Allie, I really like you. If you're not ready, I'll wait for you. We can take it slow, give you time to figure things out. There's no reason to rush into anything."

I shake my head at the wonderful, loving man sitting next to me. How can he be so understanding?

"But promise me this," he starts and I already regret what he's about to say. "You try. Talk to me. Talk to someone. Someone to help you cope." He pauses a moment before continuing. "You're strong, but everyone needs help. Can you promise me that?"