Chapter fifty-one

Just as I’d predicted, everything was okay. In the weeks that followed my stay at the hospital, I got stronger with every day that passed until one morning I woke up to find that I felt completely normal again. The frequent pain and sickness had ceased, my periods resumed, all seemed well; everything including my friends and family. My parents had returned home after staying with Harry and I for the first three days I was home but, having jobs that demanded their focus, were gone by the end of the week. Anne, too, had surprisingly returned with my parents, and began moving into her new house in Holmes Chapel. With the wedding approaching in just under a month, Anne wanted the house ready, having decided that the reception should be held there; a place that was special to all of us. Robin had bought them one of the big, old country estates in the village with expansive acreage that Harry and I had explored as children. Needless to say, everyone was thrilled. The lads had all been around, too. Zayn waited on me constantly with Eleanor while everyone else fought over what movie we were going to watch and who would get the second best position on the couch (as the invalid, the best spot automatically went to me, thankfully). And finally, there was Harry.

The more time we spent together, the harder it was to believe that there had ever been discourse between us. The time we’d spent apart simply didn’t exist in this new life we’d created. Although, it wasn’t so much new as it was restored. Just like when we were sixteen, we told each other everything and longed to spend every waking moment with one another. We’d talk long into the night, Harry holding me in his arms as I drifted off into sleep. Our life was perfect, and once again I was inexplicably happy, refusing to dwell on the negative things that existed. But one thing had changed between Harry and I: he never touched me. Of course he’d hold my hand, cuddle me at night, and kiss me, but upon my return home, he wouldn’t sleep with me. He never explicitly said he wouldn’t, but he didn’t have to as his actions made it quite clear. It was like he thought I was damaged now, weakened and fragile, like even entering me would cause me to break to pieces. I’d almost been home a month, I was nearly completely healed, and still he saw me as altered. It made me feel horrible the way he’d shy away from my touch or break away when he thought I was taking things too far; when all I wanted was just to be with him, to feel him, to be as close as humanly possible to him. I didn’t feel like me anymore. Most of the time, I tried not to dwell on this; I told myself that he just needed time to accept the fact that I was really okay. Eventually I even started to believe it. But this distance had to stop. It had to.

The TV was playing in the background as we lounged on the couch. I was casually playing with Harry’s fingers as he absentmindedly watched the news. The weather was on. The weather. And that was when I absolutely couldn’t take it anymore. Since when was watching the weather more interesting than the girlfriend splayed across your lap? I straightened up a little, turning around to face Harry, his hands guiding me as I did.

“Well hello there,” he smiled down at me.

I beamed back. “Hello.”

He tucked a few errant strands of hair behind my ear and continued watching the weather report. I sighed loudly, but he didn’t clue in. I had to get more creative. I pressed my lips right against his ear, my bottom lip grazing his lobe.

“I think there’s a chance of it being a wet night,” I whispered as seductively as possible. It had been a while and I was probably on the verge – if not completely over the precipice – of sounding bloody cringe worthy but I had to take matters into my own hands.

Still looking at the TV Harry’s brow furrowed in concentration. “I don’t think so,” he began.

“According to this report we’ll have clear skies.” And with that, I once again completely lost his attention. My hands dropped into our shared laps and I felt a slight pout on my face. He was not picking up on my signals at all.

“Harry.”

“Mmmm,” he mumbled, his fingers tracing circles into my lower back.

“Harry!” I repeated, a bit more forcefully this time.

“What is it?” He asked sounding almost alarmed.

I looked down as my hands began fiddling with the buttons on his shirt, suddenly unsure and awkward as of how to proceed.

“Harry,” I said slowly, deliberately undoing his top button, “I wasn’t talking about the weather.”
With that, understanding lit up his eyes and he began shaking his head but not before I saw excitement flash in his eyes.

“No, Sarah, babe, we don’t have to rush things.” He said, trying to restrain my hands now.

“But we’re not rushing,” I whined. Whined like a petulant child, deprived of their beloved toy.
“Harry, it’s been so long. So long.”

Harry’s smile grew and he let out a soft laugh.

“You’re so ridiculous,” he smiled, stroking my hair once more. “God, I love you so much.” He muttered, and it seemed more as if he spoke to himself rather than to me. I could see him unravelling. He had to want this as much as I did. I could break him down.

“And I love you,” I said, staring into his eyes as my fingers resumed the familiar task of undoing his buttons. There was less resistance; his hands didn’t move to stop me. Instead, they began pulling me closer to him and within moments our lips met. This was a kiss of passion, not the safe little pecks I’d been enduring since arriving back home. No, these were the knee-weakening kisses of old; the kind that had me panting for breath within moments; the kind that sent my heart fluttering up into my chest; the kind that made me want him even more.

“Sarah,” he said against our kiss. I ignored him. “Sarah,” he persisted. I decided definite action
needed to be taken. I broke our kiss for a moment, and in one swift motion, dragged the t-shirt I was wearing up and over my head, depositing it onto the floor. Harry sighed – desirous – in response. But before I could bring our lips back together, his strong arms were holding me, leaving me unable to close the last small gap that stood between us. My body went limp in response.

“Harry, I’m really done with feeling like I have to force you to sleep with me.” I blurted out, but I didn’t regret it. We’d come to far to hold back with one another.

“Sarah, trust me, you’re not forcing me, I desperately want to but,” he hesitated.

“But what?” I asked persistently. Now he was the one struggling with his words. He looked as if speaking his thoughts physically pained him. Eventually he sighed.

“I’m terrified of doing something to hurt you. Truthfully,” he began, but stopped short. I stayed quiet for a moment, waiting for him to go on. But when it became clear that he had no intention of carrying on with what he’d been about to say, I decided to prompt him.

“Truthfully…” I said, eyes prodding. He sighed once more, finally meeting my eyes.
“Truthfully,” he said again, “I just don’t know how to be with you anymore.” I sat up stunned, pulling away from him immediately. His words made me recoil. I’d been expecting them but they hurt all the same. “Don’t misunderstand me, love,” he added quickly. “I just don’t know what we can and can’t do and I’d hate to do something wrong.”

“Harry,” I said pensively, “I’m not a porcelain doll, I’m not going to fall to pieces in your arms. What happened,” I paused, cringing at the memory of the pain, but carried on. “It sucked. There’s no other way to put it. But it happened and you and I have to get over it.”

“You’re right,” he said rubbing my arms. “I just worry about you.” I smiled softly at that and kissed him, slowly this time.

“I know, and I love you for it.” I said, fingers tangling in his hair. “But I also love you for the way you love me and lately there hasn’t been a lot of that.” I eyed him suggestively.

Defeat was there in his eyes. He wanted this as badly as I did and I could see him accepting the fact that I wasn’t as fragile as he thought I was. He let out a gust of air.

“If anything – and I mean anything – doesn’t feel right or you want it to stop-”

“Shhhhh,” I said sliding a finger across his lips. “No more talking. I have a better purpose for that mouth.” And with that, I brought him back into a soul-quenching kiss.

And that’s when the last of his walls broke down.

After that, he was in control. He flipped me onto my back, pinning me between his body and the couch. I let out an excited gasp and within seconds he’d shed his shirt onto the floor. A pile of our clothing began to form, the layers not peeling away fast enough. His fingers traced along the inside of my thighs; up, up, and up. Before long, they began teasing me. I moaned and his mouth came crashing down upon me, his fingers shooting inside me. I could feel the cool metal of his rings as they entered and left my body. I smiled triumphantly.

“Do you want to move to the bed?” I asked him, breathing heavily.

He looked down at me, his green eyes stormy. “This couch is just going to have to do.” He responded breathily, his smile crooked.

And he was right. The couch was absolutely perfect.

Notes

So sorry it's been so long! I'm going to try and finally finish this book, hopefully some of you are still interested! Please rate/comment/subscribe to let me know :)