under the covers [hs au]

harry's journal.

Sorry the update took forever! But this chapter is really long so I hope I made up for it :) Updates will be regular after this, I promise. Please don't forget to vote and comment, I love you all :)

If you haven't read the story itself, don't read this yet!!!! It spoils everything!

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Therapy Journal

7/24

Her name is Samira. It sounds as pretty as she is.

On that train, she taught me one thing. To be BRAVE. I still remember that day like it was yesterday. Rude, I thought she was, but I mistook her bluntness. Her accent was American, and I'm not sure if all Americans are as straightforward as she was, like in the movies. She was very loud and didn't give a fuck.

And the weirdest thing was, she noticed me. No one usually does, even if I stare. Not that I meant to in a creepy way, though, now that I think about it, it probably was a little creepy. But she confronted me about it, and for some reason, I was able to talk to her after that. It was a little embarrassing, but she still spoke to me kindly. Strangers are usually just mean, but she was no stranger.

But what the fuck did I do when I saw her for the second time at Fizza's family restaurant? I pretended like I'd never seen her. Samira didn't appreciate that, I could tell, but she went with it. But that was so cowardly of me. I could've been brave like her, and told her that I remembered her from the train.

It was hard not to look at Samira, listen to her talk. Whenever she'd smile with her teeth, I could feel the corners of my lips twitching—it was too contagious. Her voice was deep but silvery, and I could hear her confidence; my heart did weird things when I'd listen to her speak. Her hair was big and curly. I wanted to know how soft it was.

When the light would shine in her eyes, I was mesmerized by the little specks of red in them. Sparkly. They were protruding and beady, though, like a cat's—kind of scary.

I told myself, talk to her, talk to her.

But I couldn't. I don't know why. It was so easy the first time, maybe because I thought I wouldn't see her again. And here we are, she's in my life again.

Must be for a reason, right?

8/4

Samira is so fucking funny. Anything she says makes me laugh.

I overheard her make a lot of jokes at Natalie's party. Unfortunately, she caught me laughing at one. She gave me the side-eye. But even as I procrastinated talking to her again, she'd accidentally drank—she couldn't drink, I remember because she told Cameron she didn't before I told him to leave her alone. Something in my heart forced me to help her, and this time I did feel brave.

Samira wasn't upset anymore, or maybe that was just in my head. I overthink sometimes.

We'd become friends, and she'd asked me for my number that night, boldly, I might add. Since then, we've been hanging out a lot. Samira told me she likes being around me, which I didn't think I'd hear from anyone, since it's hard for me to be around myself.

8/18

All I talk about is Samira during therapy. I feel like a creep because she doesn't know that, honestly.

My therapist suggested I write about her, but I already do. The thought of her gives me comfort. There is something about our connection that I . . . need? I don't know how else to put it, as pathetic as I sound.