into the wilderness - h.s.

four

"Stressful day?" I ask his bent form. He still had not looked up from rubbing his eyes.

"You should know," he says, though his voice is muffled by his hands.

I laughed quietly. I did know. I was good at reading body language. He enjoyed Tristan's company as much as the next person, but sometimes his bubbly personality would become a little too much. I had seen Tristan push his way to the front of the pack to talk to Harry on more than one occasion. Sometimes Harry would reply to the exuberant man, other times he would offer a slight nod. I recognized the way his shoulders sagged when he didn't fell like talking, but was too polite to shove Tristan away.

We all enjoyed Alisha's company, even Bruce and his girlfriend didn't seem to mind when the mother had went over to introduce herself to the couple. I could already tell she would act as the mother figure to all of us. I'm not sure how it happened, but we are all in our twenties, still in college, or fresh out, going on a camping trip with our mother. It was a funny thought now, and I knew it would make the others laugh.

I looked over at Harry. He had removed his hands from his face and was looking out over the valley. The moon provided just enough light to cast a soft glow over the stretch of trees and rocks. The shadows that the light created on Harry's face made his jaw line look even sharper than in the daylight, and he looked quite handsome. His eyes reflected a pale green from the moon, and his eyelids fluttered as he blinked. If I had been a braver, more emotionally stable version of myself, I might have given him a kiss on the cheek, or some other cute thing along that line. But I was still brooding over what happened with Jacob, that when the thought crossed my mind, I quickly batted it away.

"I have an idea," I say to him after a while of sitting in silence and staring at the stars. "Why don't you tell me what you find annoying about each person? Might help get your mind off things."

His face turned to me with a small smile on his lips, and I noticed dimples. "But you have to tell me about Jacob."

"Hmmmm. Okay."

"Okay."

"So, first person, Tristan."

He rolled his eyes. "He talks way too much. Even in his sleep. Jesus Christ."

"Is that why you're not in your tent right now?"

He nods. "He has a stereotypical gay personality let me tell you."

I laughed, because it's true. Very true. "Okay, do Bruce and his girlfriend."

"God," he let out a dramatic exhale, causing me to laugh again. "There just annoying. Stereotypical football-cheerleader couple."

"Harry, are you labeling stereotypes?" I tease him.

"Maybe," he smirks. "Our group is full of them."

"So what stereotype is Layla?"

"She the gay's best friend. The one who isn't gay herself. She can endure a shìt ton of talking, though." He laughed. It was a deep throaty laugh. The kind that started in the belly, and slowly made its way up and out of the mouth. I was laughing along with him.

"Alisha?"

"Single mom stereotype. The kids go to the father's house for the weekend, and she hates the idea of sêx. Did you see her face when I was talking to Bruce about fûcking his girlfriend in the woods?" he could barley breathe now. I was struggling myself. It felt good to laugh after what I had gone through with Jacob.

I tried to make my face serious as I prepared to ask my next question. But I couldn't do it. Each time I would become so close, but I would catch a glimpse of Harry's face, and immediately break down again. After several more tries, I finally calmed down enough to get words past my lips.

"What stereotype and I?"

Harry immediately stopped laughing and turned to look at me. He cocked his head to the side and studied my face. I could almost see him flipping through stereotypes in his head.

"The type who just caught her boyfriend fûcking another woman."

I hummed a thoughtful response. I knew it was the truth and I knew that it was going to happen eventually. I think back to all the things I had done. I tried to think of what would have made him feel like he needed more than just me, but I couldn't. I had always prided myself in the fact that I was proud of my body. I wasn't the skinniest person on the planet; the stretch marks on my hips would prove that. But I liked who I was. I could feel the tears forming in my eyes as my body began to shake. The wetness slid down my cheeks, and I licked to corners of my mouth to taste salt.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," I felt Harry shift closer to me. I could feel the heat of him through my pullover. It was comforting. I could feel him hesitate and debate with himself about whether or not he could put his arm around me. I surprised myself as I made the decision for him when I leaned into his shoulder. I had just met this man this morning. I wasn't sure if I trusted him. But I did, at least enough to lean into him for comfort.

He smelled of smoke and aftershave. It mixed perfectly, creating a musky, masculine scent that I would, from this point forward, associate with him. I felt his large hand, as it rubbed comfortingly up and down my arm and shoulder. His British voice in my hair was soothing, and after a while, I started to calm down. I shifted and sat up a bit. I didn't want him to think me annoying for just sitting there, darkening his sweatshirt with snot and tears. After all, I had only met him this morning. Well yesterday morning, as it must be far beyond midnight by now.

His hand had stopped rubbing my shoulder, and I could feel his begin to slip down to the log behind me. We were still sitting quite close, but I was no longer wrapped in his arms. I coughed as an awkward silence settles between us.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what that was, and it kinda came out of nowhere." I apologized.

"Its fine," he pauses for a while. After a few long beats, he says, "Do you need to talk about it?"

I sniff wipe my nose with my sleeve covered hand. "Not really. It's kind of dumb anyways. Like, how many times does he need to fûck a girl before I finally get the message that he doesn't want me anymore? I should have just left him the first time it happened. I - oh."

Harry chuckles as I realize I had explained most of it, when I really hadn't wanted to. I sigh again.

"I'm so sorry; I really didn't want to burden you with my troubles. Just pretend I never said anything. Goodnight." I know I am rambling. I start to get up from the log to go back to my tent, when I feel a firm tug on my wrist.

"Wait." Harry stand to meet me, and for the first time, I really notice how tall he is. I'm five-nine, and he's a good head taller than me. I have to look up to see his face. "You didn't burden me at all."

I smile and dip my head so he won't see the blush forming on my cheeks. He laughs quietly, which causes me too look back up to his smiling face. He grabs my wrist again and pulls me to follow him back to camp. I stay a few paces behind him, using both my hands to move branches and plants to the side so that I can get through.

We make it safely back to camp and I see him stand over by the tent he shares with Tristan. He offered me a small wave. "Goodnight, Harper."

"Goodnight, Harry."

a/n : cuteness, I know. Btw I'm pretty proud of this chapter

lje