23. rerouted

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Ariella’s P.O.V

I lay on the couch, exhausted from doing nothing but shivering from cold. It was nearly seven, and we’ve ate our dinner quite too early, I’ve realized. But here we are, and by we, I meant me and Harry, watching our second movie for the night. I could tell, that I am probably irritating the whole world, that is has always been Ar-iel-la and Har-ry, but this is us now.

And we’ve gone closer, without denying.

Harry, who was quite insistent that we stay the night in the basement, ended up with a deal with her mom, that we could sleep together . . . in the living room.

Although, we bickered about the tons of movie options we have, he chose a weird chick flick. I had my eyes on it, and pondered that this was something interesting. But it was infatuation.

Towards the end of the movie, I lost interest. It was, apparently, a cliché movie. The same rising action, climax, falling action and resolution. The only thing that had me awake was that Harry constantly pinched a part of my leg, laid on the top of his lap. 

Before the credits were rolled, a large amount of bouquets of flowers appeared in the screen, reminding me of the loads of such things Denver sent me. What has gone through his mind? And how am I supposed to act in this situation?

Styles refused to talk to me about it; nonetheless, I had this urge to put it up. Isn’t it right, that verbally attacking a situation had this benefit of getting a better grip of things?

He tensed up right at the time we found out, and I’ve decided I don’t want to see him be furious. I’m afraid both of the choices I have can still wrack and ruin us. I couldn’t really put myself into thinking properly right now, everything was still startling me.

“Love,” Harry calls, “hey?” He looks at me, confused why I wasn’t responding, I didn’t know what to say, I can’t blame my mind.

“Huh, yes?”

“You seemed so distant,” he said, stating somewhat the reality, concern colouring his irises. I thought of bringing it up again, but I knew him, it’s better if he’s the one who does it first.

“I’m fine, Harry.”

“Well,” he starts off, scooting closer to me and letting his arm lie freely above my stomach, “I suggest we talk about the guy, um, Denver?”

There it goes, I guess?

“What about him?” I ask of the obvious, shrugging at how this was going to be an awkward thing between us.

“It bothers me a lot Ariella, I–”

“Harry, don’t worry about him. You’ve taken my heart way earlier than him, I love you, we’ve connected as a constellation now, and it’s all that matters. In case you’re wondering, I saw him as a friend, Harry. We’ve talked a few times only,” I emphasized.

His body softens, as he stretch his lengthy body, us laying side by side, “Hmm,” his voice whispers nearly against my ear, “that’s all I wanted to hear.” I feel his lips curve into smile.

Just as when we were about to drift to sleep, his deep night voice, brings me back to full consciousness, “I, uh, have something to tell you,”

And it’s always that phrase that makes my heart pessimistically race, I didn’t know what was going to come while my deep breathing was the only thing that’s going to prepare me for it.

He holds my hand as if trying to calm me down while his eyes remained away from mine, “I–uh, will be kissing Rebecca by New Year.”

I feel my heart shrink, I guess we both have the right to be jealous at each other, but it’s a kiss; it is not just trying to avoid it, it has to do it. Why has 2014 offered me good start? Note the sarcasm.

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