Hiraeth

9.

I should probably have learned by now that Harry would notice, always being very attentive towards me. Yet it still surprises me when he grabs my arm to expect it. He is the only one to pay me this much attention.

"What's this?" He looks at my upper right arm, noticing the marks. Perhaps Dylan should be a bit more discreet as not to have anyone report him.

Or have Harry report him more specifically.

My eyes meet Harry's and I give him the same look I have many times before, feeling helpless about the situation. "Em?" His voice is so soft and worried as if begging me to tell him that I'm not actually letting myself getting hurt like this.

"Don't worry about it," I say. "I'm not seeing him anymore," I inform him. I told Dylan that we shouldn't be seeing each other any longer. Yet I chickened out and waited until after we had sex too scared of his reaction if I did it beforehand. Luckily he didn't seem to take it too hard. It would have been nice knowing I meant something to him though. But our relationship or lack thereof has always been mainly physical. Perhaps he didn't think I was serious. But I meant it. There's no way I'm letting him touch me again, especially not considering how my body looks at the moment. Who knows what he would have done to me if I had cut him off and left him sexually frustrated. Shivers run down my spine by the mere thought of it. Yet even if I didn't think it was possible, telling Dylan that we're not going to see each other again has somehow lifted a stone off my chest. I feel more relaxed now as if I can finally walk normally again without the weight on my shoulders.

Harry looks at me stunned and opens his mouth to speak but then shuts it again. "Good," he finally breathes out, "no one should hurt you like that."

"I'm not hurt," I say, although that's another lie. I am hurt, but I don't know if it's solely because of Dylan or because of my father, or because I have the feeling that guys only ever want me for sex.

Is that all men ever want?

Harry eyes me sceptically, but doesn't comment on my words. "You know, I like it more when you smile," I say, placing a hand on his cheek, surprising us both by the action.

He gives me a small smile and leans slightly into my palm as I stroke his cheek gently, before removing my hand surprised at how naturally everything comes with him. I'm never this affectionate with anyone apart from Jamie, but that's different, considering he is dependent on me. "And I will when I know there's no need for me to worry."

"If you're referring to me, you really shouldn't. I'm fine," I say.

He grabs my arm again and looks at me in silence, before directing his eyes towards my arm and then back at me. "If you consider this fine, I don't want to know what you consider bad," he states, and as much as I like that he worries, I also feel a bit uncomfortable with all the attention he's giving me, and he has Bridget, I'm not sure how she'd feel about knowing how Harry is behaving around me. "Do you even know what's good? Do you know what good feels like?" He questions and his words surprise me and I gulp.

What?

I fake him a smile, trying not to let his words sink in, "as I've said before, you really shouldn't worry about me," I say, trying to play it cool, pulling my arm away from him, already yearning for his touch as his skin leaves mine. His words make my heart beat faster, and my palms sweaty because I know the answer to his question is no.

But what's wrong with fine?

Life can't be good all the time. I give him a smile and head upstairs for my swimsuit deciding I need a swim, hoping that the water will soothe me, although I'm well aware that right now nothing will.