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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The rain pours outside the window as Harry sleeps calmly beside me, my body covered in a thin sheen of sweat from the memory of it all. The image of my bruised wrist in Harry's hand still sends a chill down my spine, the pain of Corey all coming back to me even as I have so much to be happy about.
I cuddle myself into Harry, my weary head laying on his warm chest. His skin feels like home as it's flush against my cheek. The erratic beating of my heart instantly slows when I'm right beside Harry, his body keeping me safe and protected.
Small snores escape his lips, the thunder and lightning not bothering his slumber. It had only aided in awakening me, in sending me into a complete panic attack. Now that I'm awake--knowing that he's beside me and going nowhere--I realize that there wasn't anything to be afraid of after all.
That day in the department store had been the last day I saw him, the last day I ever felt his touch on my skin. He wasn't angry when he found me in the store, huddled over and a complete mess. I was only a mess because of Corey because his wrath was on my mind. Harry alleviated all of my stress in just one touch, in one small smile.
I look back on that day sometimes, wondering why I hadn't of just told him the truth. I could've been in his arms years ago, both of us happy and comfortable. We could've avoided all of that pain together, him and I against the world.
Instead, I stayed quiet, subdued and kept to myself as Harry tried to help me. He would've gone to Corey right then and there, demanding he leave me. But then again, I never would've told Harry the whole story. I never would've admitted to anything.
Harry's body shuffles beneath me, his arm going to wrap around me. I know he's awake now, even in the dark I can tell that my rustling has woken him up. The moonlight washes over him, half of his face visible in the dark. His eyes are still closed, but the soft snores have stopped.
"Y'Okay?" Harry asks, his hand reaching for the lamp switch. I reach for his hand, pulling it back down to me. I don't want him to turn on the light, to see how my face moves and contorts while I talk to him. I don't want him to see me as I ask him this next question.
"Do you remember when you saw me four years ago during Christmas? In the department store?" I ask, my heart twisting as I even think of it. If I'd had a journal, that'd be an incident that I'd talk about. I would've written it down and read it out to myself while Corey was sleeping, constantly going over what I'd done wrong.
"Briefly," Harry says. I lean over, my body fitting right into his like a puzzle piece. My fingers are tracing patterns into the skin of his chest, the light bright enough for me to see the lines within his butterfly tattoo.
"Don't lie to me," I say, looking up at him. His eyes still shine brighter than any stars in the night sky. In Texas, his eyes would always outpower any star in any field, but in New York, the stars are faded and clouded.
