บท 60: You Know Me Better than Anyone Else
Harry pulls out of the parking lot and I stare out the passenger window, I don't want to speak first. I need to access his mood first. He turns the radio on and turn the volume up too loud. I roll my eyes but try to ignore it, but I can't. I hate his taste in music, it gives me an instant headache. Without asking I turn the knob down and Harry looks over at me.
"What?" I snap.
"Woah, someone is in a pissy mood." He says.
"No, I just don't want to listen to that and if anyone is in a bad mood it is you. You were being rude earlier then you text me and ask me to stay, I don't get it."
"I was pissed because you brought up the wedding, now that it is settled that we aren't going there is no need for me to be pissed." His tone is calm and sure.
"It is not settled, we didn't even talk about it."
"Yes we did. I told you I'm not going so drop it Theresa."
"Well you may not be going but I am. And I am going over to your dad's house to learn to bake with Karen this week." I tell him. He clenches his jaw and glares at me.
"You're not going to the wedding, and what are you Karen like best friend now. You barely even know her. Why do you want to go to the wedding anyway?"
"Yes I am going to the wedding, and so what if I barely know her . I barely know you." I tell him. His face falls and I feel bad but it is true.
"Why are you being so difficult?" He says through his teeth.
"Because you aren't going to tell me what to do Harry. It's not happening. If I want to go to the wedding I will, and I really would like if you would come with me. It could be fun, you may even have a nice time. It would mean a lot to your father and Karen, not that you care about that."
He doesn't say anything. He lets out a large breath and I stare back out the window. The rest of the rides is spent in silence, both of us too angry to speak. When we pull up the fraternity house, Harry grabs my bag out of the backseat and puts it over his shoulder.
"Why are you part of frat anyway?" I ask him. I have been wanting to know the answer since I discoverd his room the first time.
He takes another deep breath as we walk up the stairs. "Because, by the time I agreed to come here the dorms were full and I sure as hell wasn't going to live with my father so this was one of the few options I had."
"Then why stay in?"
"Because I don't want to live with my father Tessa. Besides, look at this house, it's nice and I did get the biggest room." He smirk a little. I am glad to see his anger is wearing down.
"Why don't you live off campus?" I ask him and he shrugs. Maybe he doesn't want to have to get a job. I follow him quietly up to his room and wait as he unlocks the door. What is it with him and his obsession over no one going into his room.
"Why won't you let anyone into your room?" I ask and he rolls his eyes. He sits my bag down on the floor.
"Why do you always ask so many questions?" He groans and sit on the chair.
"I don't know, why won't you answer them?" I ask but of course he ignores me.
"Can I hang up my outfit for tomorrow? I don't want it to get too wrinkle from being in my bad."
He seems to think about it for a second before he nods and stands to retrieve a hanger from his closet. I grab the skirt and blouse out and hang them on the hanger, ignoring his sour expression at the outfit.
"I have to get up earlier than usual tomorrow so I can be at the bus station by 8:45, the stop three streets over will take me two blocks away from Vance." I inform him.
"What? You are going there tomorrow? Why didn't you tell me?"
"I did...you were too busy sulking to pay attention." I fire back.
"I will drive you there, you don't need to take an hour long bus ride.' I want to decline his offer just to annoy him but I decide against it. Harry's car is much better way to get there than a crowded bus.
"I am going to get a car soon, I can't last any longer without one. If I get the internship, I would have to take the bus there three days a week."
"I would drive you." He says. His voice is almost a whisper.
"I'll just get my own car." I tell him. "The last thing I need is for you to be mad at me and not pick me up."
"I would never do that." His tone is serious.
"Yea, you would. Then I would be stuck trying to find a bus route. No thanks." I half joke. I honestly feel like I could depend on him but I don't want to take any chances, he is just too moody.
Harry turns on the television and stands up to change his clothes. No matter how annoyed with him I am, I would never turn down the chance to watch him undress. His shirt is pulled over his head first, then I watch his muscle contract under his skin as he unbuttons and pulls down his tight back jeans. Just ask I think he is going to only wear boxers, he pulls a pair of thin cotton pants out of his dresser and puts them on. He stays shirtless, lucky for me.
"Here." He mumbles and hands me the shirt he just removed. I can't help the smile on my face as I take it in my hands. This must be our thing now, he must like me wearing his shirt to bed as much as I love the smell of him on the fabric. Harry focuses on the television as I follow his lead and change into his shirt and a pair of yoga pants. The pants are more like spandex leggings, but they are comfortable. After I fold up my bra and clothes Harry finally looks at me again. He clears his throat and his eyes rake my body.
"Those uhm...pants are really sexy." he compliment and I flush.
"Thanks."
"Much better than your fuzzy cloud pants." he teases and I laugh while taking a seat on the floor. I feel oddly comfortable in this impersonal room. Maybe its the book, or Harry, I am not sure. Harry.
"Did you mean it in the car when you said you barely know me?" He asks quietly. His question is very unexpected.
"Sort of. You aren't the easiest person to get to know." I admit.
"I feel like I know you." he says, his eyes locked into mine.
"Yea, because I let you, I tell you things about myself."
"I tell you things too. It may not seem that way, but you know me better than anyone else does." He looks down at the floor then back into my eyes. He looks sad and vulnerable, such difference from usual but equally as captivating.
I am not sure what to say to his confession, I feel like I do know Harry on a very personal level, like somehow we connect much deeper than just knowing minuscule information about each other but I would like to know more about him.
"You know me better than anyone too." I tell him. He knows me, the real Tessa. Not the Tessa that I have to pretend to be around .y mother, or even Noah. I have told Harry things about my father leaving, my mother's criticism, and my fears that I ever told anyone else. Harry seems very pleased with this information, a smile covers his beautiful face as he stands from the chair and moves to the floor. He sits next to me and takes my hands into his.
"What do you want to know Tessa?" He asks and my eyes almost pop out of my head. Harry is finally willing to tell me more about himself. I am this much closer to figuring out this complicated, angry, yet sometimes lonely man.
Harry and I both lay back on the bed, eyes on the ceiling as I ask him at least hundred questions. He talks about the place he grew up, Hampstead and how nice it was living there. He talks about the scar on his knee from the first time he learned to ride a bike with no training wheels, and how his mother passed out from the blood. His father was at the bar that day, all day long so his mother his mother was the one who thought him. He tells me about grade school and how he spent most of his time reading. He was never very social, and as he got older, his dad drank more and more and his parents fought more and more. He tells me how he got kicked out of secondary School for fighting but his mother begged them to let him back. He began getting tattoos at sixteen, his friend would to them in his basement. His first tattoo was a star, and once he got one he wanted more and more. He tells me he doesn't have a specific reason why he hasn't tattooed his back, he just hasn't gotten around to it yet. He hates birds and loves classic cars. The best say of his life was when he learned to drive and the worst was when his parents divorced. His father stopped drinking when he was fourteen and had been trying to make up for all the terrible years but Harry isn't having it. My head is swimming with all of this new information and I feel like I finally understand him. There are still many more things I would love to know about him but he falls asleep while telling me about the playhouse made from cardboard boxes that him and his mother made when he was eight. As I watch him sleep he appears so much younger now that I know about his childhood. It was mostly happy until his father's alcoholism poisoned it, creating the angry Harry that he is today. I lean over and give Harry a kiss on his cheek before crawling to the bed to sleep, I don't want to wake him so I pull the comforter sideways to cover myself up. My dreams are clouded by a curly haired little boy falling off a bicycle.
"Stop!" I jolt awake at the pained sound of Harry's voice. His body is jerking on the floor. I hurry out of the bed to get down to him and shake his shoulders gently to try to wake him. I remember how difficult it was to wake him last time, so I lean down on him and wrap my small arms around his shoulders as he tries to thrash away from me. A whimper escapes his perfectly lips and he wakes up.
"Tess." He breaths and wraps his arms around me. He is panting, out of breath, and sweating. I should have asked him about the nightmares, but I didn't want to be greedy, he told me much, much more than I had ever expected him to.
"I'm here, I'm here." I comfort him. I pull his arm, gesturing him to get up and come to bed. When his eyes meet mine, the confusion and fear slowly fades out of them.
"I thought you left." He whispers. We lay down and he pulls me as closer to him as possible. I run my fingers through his damp and unruly hair, his eyes flutter closed.
I don't say anything, I just continue to rub his scalp to calm him.
"Don't ever leave me, Tess." he whispers and falls back into sleep. My heart nearly explodes at his plea, and I know that as long as he wants me here, I'm here.
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