Phoenix | hs au

15 - Trust

We hung around the club for a little while after finishing our set and talking with Peter. I didn't think Harry would be upset if he found out my friend from school was a guy, he just doesn't seem like the type of person who would make a big deal out of that sort of thing.

Apparently, my judgement of Harry's character was incorrect.

As soon as we got in the jeep to drive home, I could tell he was brooding.

As I buckled my seat belt, I asked him, "What's wrong?"

"You didn't tell me your friend was a guy." He muttered, backing out of the parking space jerkily. He stomps his foot on the gas as soon as we're on the main road.

"I didn't think it would matter." I say, which is true. Sure, I felt guilty at first, but come on, he's just a friend. We have a lot in common. We both made it clear to each other that our friendship was not going to turn romantic. He's a friend.

"I just wish you'd told me." Is all Harry replies. I can tell there's more on his mind. His eyes are dark under the fleeting street lamps. We're almost back home in Tempe when I bring it up again.

"He was nice. He asked to borrow a pen the first day and we started talking. We have a lot in common." I mumble the last part. Perhaps it wasn't wise to add the last part right now.

"Katie, it's fine. I just wish you'd added that detail when you told me."

I huff, "Well, clearly it's not fine." I turn my head to look out the window before Harry can see the tears prickling at the corners of my eyes. Why is this making me so upset?

In the reflection of the glass, I see his fingers tighten around the steering wheel. His dark tattoos pop out against his pale knuckles.

"I'm jealous, I know. I've been cheated on before, I'm just really scared of it happening again." He says honestly. I shake my head, bitting my lip.

When I don't say anything, he questions, "Does that make sense?"

"No." I bite back, "It doesn't. Don't you trust me at all?"

He stammers.

"Don't you trust me not to cheat on you with a random nice guy I just met?" I exhale, "Thought you would at least have a little faith in me."

"Katie..."

"Harry, that really hurt." I cut him off.

"I'm sorry..."

By now, we've pulled into the driveway. Before the car is even in park, I'm flying out the door, up the sidewalk, inside the house, and right to my bedroom. I slam the door behind me for extra drama.

I flop down on my bed, pulling off my stupid bright yellow shirt and yanking off my pants. I rub my feet--they're sore from standing for so long on stage.

I lay back on my bed, listing to Harry bum around the house. I listen to the him lock the door behind him, toss his keys on the stove, and shut the door to his bedroom. I want to scream.

Is he giving up?

I rub my eyes harshly, surely smearing my makeup all over the place.

Harry doesn't even trust me to not cheat on him? Does he think I'm a dog in heat? No, he's ridiculous. When have I ever led him to believe that was a thing I would do? I take relationships seriously. Moving out here to Arizona with him was a massive step, and he thinks I'm just going to go and throw all that away? Ridiculous.

And to think we were having such a great night. All the fantastic feelings I felt on stage seem like a lifetime ago now. I'm filled with dread.

I start crying out of nowhere, all these emotions start to boil over at once. I long for Harry's touch yet feel like he's a stranger to me at times. I miss my home in Chicago, even though it wasn't my home for very long. I hate how quickly Harry and I's relationship moved, I never should have moved halfway across the country with him.

I'm second guessing every decision I've made in the last year.

Sometimes, I wish Brandon would've just killed me when his fingers were around my neck.

I sit up and gasp, no, I think. I would never give him that satisfaction.

I shake my head, my home was never Chicago, that was just my hiding place. Harry cared for me when I needed him. He was so gentle, so kind. From the first time we met--ripping that creep off of me and getting thrown out of a bar--to tonight. I remember the way his eyes sparkled when we were on stage together. It felt so right.

I thunder across my bedroom floor, tightening my hands into fists at my sides. I yank open my door; it takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness in the living room. I see a fine line of yellow light escaping from beneath Harry's door.

Ferocity in every step, I pound on his bedroom door. Maybe he doesn't trust me because I've been so distant since we moved. We were hardly ever intimate anymore, hardly more than roommates. He opens the door with wide eyes, perhaps thinking something was wrong from the harshness in which I knocked.

He seems to take me all in at once: half dressed, makeup all over my face, and determination clear in my expression.

Before he can say anything. I wrap my hands around his neck and lift myself up against his body. His hands immediately go to brace me against him, and my lips crash against his.

He sucks air in quickly, out of surprise? But he sure doesn't hesitate to kiss me back.

He turns, slamming his bedroom door shut with his foot and slapping the wall to find the light switch. We dissolve, bodies entwined, into the inky darkness.