Chapter 23 – 'Oh no…'
So it was set; I attended class, met my friends, invited them to the party, and managed to do so without much protestation. I think the lack of protest was really due to the fact that I mentioned my wanting to introduce a 'certain someone' at this party. As soon as my friends heard Harry's name and 'boyfriend' in the same sentence, they perked up and got all excited for the party tonight. They even offered to help me get the food and provisions for the 'get together', so I wasn't stressing quite so much. I had managed to pull all that off in only an hour and a half, making me early, for once.
I started to head home, cutting through the bustling human traffic of university students on campus, seeing as it was between classes. I passed by the Administrator's building again, reminding me of my slight predicament, deciding that I would deal with it fully once Harry left. For the next two days, well really one and a half, I was going to focus all my attention on being with him. Oh man, I was sounding exactly like one of those stupid girlfriends you read about or saw in movies. I didn't really like it; it made me feel weak, as if I needed to have him around to be complete. Please don't get me wrong, I loved having him around and I love him, but I just have to get used to this 'being-with-someone-but-managing-to-maintain-myself' type of thing. I was learning, I was getting used to it. We were in a 'special' type of situation, so I allowed myself to indulge slightly, if only for the next few days.
I was walking on automatic pilot almost, weaving back and forth between bodies, backpacks, and coffee cups filled with hot liquid, avoiding all contact, trying to make it through the crowd. Suddenly a figure caught my attention from the corner of my eye, walking down the steps of the Administration building. I think I was starting to become delusional, my head and heart playing stupid tricks on me. The guy looked unbelievably like Harry; same style, same walk, same slight bob of the head as he walked to a silent rhythm. It had happened before, when I began to miss him after he left; people on the street or around school would begin to remind me of him. It was little things; the way their jeans hung on their hips, the way they stuffed their hands in their pockets when it was cold, the way they hung their head slightly as they picked up speed in their walk. I had started to take note of these little things about Harry when he was around, committing them to memory; those small fragments would pop up every once in a while, mocking me, making me wish he was here.
But why was it happening now? He was here, waiting for me at home. I could go and be with the actual thing and not a figment of my imagination if I wanted to; which I did. I just shook my head, passing it off as a simple delusion. But as I continued to walk, the male figure, still walking the same path in front of me, kept drawing my attention; he even had the same jacket that Harry had. Wait, that was impossible, more than a coincidence. I pulled out my phone frantically, scrolling through the names, searching for Harry's. I had to make sure; too many times had I run up to some stranger, lost in my delusions thinking it was him and being sadly disappointed as an unfamiliar face would look at me as if I belonged in a mental institution. I waited, the ringing almost deafening in my ear, as my heart began to race. Why was I getting so worked up about this?
I kept a close eye on the male figure, following closely behind; watching for any movements that would indicate it was actually Harry. I kept crashing into people, 'sorry' and 'excuse me' flying out of my mouth almost immediately. Then I saw the figure reach into their pocket and pull out a phone. It was him! I quickly hung up the phone, stuffing it in my bag and picked up my pace, almost running towards him. He had stopped walking, staring into the phone puzzled as to who would call him and hang up.
"Hello?" I heard him say into the phone again, as I neared him.
I slowed down, catching my breath and walked up in front of him. His eyes widened in complete shock when he saw me, the people still continuing to push past us, in a hurry to get to class. He put down his phone, and continued to stare at me. I couldn't quite place it, but he had a sort of guilty look in his eyes. What was he doing here and why did he seem to feel guilty about it?
"What… uh… are you doing here?" he asked, his voice hesitant.
"Me? You're joking right? I go here remember? Why are you here?" I returned the question.
"Oh, uh, I came to pick you up," he said, a slight wave of relief washing over him as he uttered those words, as if he had found an acceptable excuse for his presence.
"Lies. You're too early to pick me up," I simply stated, catching him in his lie.
"Uh, what are you talking about?" he said trying to put the blame on me. "So I'm a bit early, can't I come and pick up my girlfriend from school? Anyways, why are you out so early? You told me you would be gone for 2 hours. Did you have some other plans that I didn't know about?" he accused me.
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Why was he accusing me of something that was so blatantly a cover up for whatever he was doing?
"Oh come off it Harry, don't try and turn this around on me. I'm done early because it didn't take quite as long to convince my friends to come to our last minute party as I thought, so I was just heading home now, and then I saw you," I replied, a little angry at the accusation thrown at me.
"Oh," he said, dropping his head, bringing his hand to the back of his neck, rubbing it nervously. "Sorry," he mumbled.
"Doesn't matter," I said letting out a deep sigh, "I just don't like the persecution Harry," I continued, grabbing his hand from the back of his neck and linking it with mine, pulling him in the direction of my house.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to jump to conclusions," he apologized again.
"It's ok, just a little childish eh Judd?" I said, a small smile appearing on my lips, happy that that hadn't turned into a full blown argument. I was getting better.
"Hey, no need to be mean," he retorted, catching into step with me.
A silence fell upon us, but my mind was far from it. Just blurt it out, 'why are you really here' or 'are you cheating on me?', because that's the first thing that flies into an insecure girl's mind; cheating. But that was impossible, he wasn't in the country for long enough to have one, unless I underestimated his 'charm' and he was able to hide it from me very well. Ok, now I was just being completely ridiculous.
"So why were you really here so early?" I finally asked, trying my best to keep to my resolutions, and not let him know about my incredible insecurities.
"I thought we already discussed this," he answered, dodging the question.
"Well, you accused me, I got offended, you apologized and I forgave you immediately. We never really 'discussed' anything," I corrected him.
He let out a low laugh, squeezing my hand gently and glancing my way. He had a small smirk on his lips, the one that drove me crazy, and I caught myself faltering in my step.
"And that's why you're so great," he simply stated, trying to win me over with flattery.
"Don't try to change the subject by trying to charm me Harry. Seriously, why were you here so early? And why were you walking out of the Administration building?" I asked bluntly.
"I can't tell you," he answered.
I was a little taken aback by his answer; it was straight-forward, directly to the point, but it hit me like a ton of bricks, my chest tightening and my mouth suddenly drying out. He couldn't tell me, but why? What was it that he had to keep it from me? It obviously had something to do with me; him showing up here, walking out of the administration building of MY university. Now who was the one keeping secrets?
"What do you mean you can't tell me?" I asked, stopping in my spot, pulling him back to face me.
"I can't, not yet," he said, his eyes pleading for me to let it go.
But I'm stubborn, sometimes too stubborn for my own good. I had to know why he couldn't tell me and it was eating away at me exactly as to what he couldn't tell me. So I persisted, even though my brain was yelling at me, 'just let it go for now, you don't want to spoil anything!'.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean? 'Not yet'? Just tell me. You told me that you wanted to hear everything I had to say, and I promised myself that I wouldn't keep anything from you, so I haven't. Last night, me telling you that I had lost my scholarship was one of the hardest things I've ever had to tell you, yet I did it. I introduced you to my mom for God sake's…"
"Only because you had to," he said, interrupting me.
"I wanted to," I said in a low voice, being startled by his sudden interruption.
My breathing was quick again, the heat inside my chest suffocating me. It wasn't the fact that we were fighting, but it was the fact that Harry thought I was obliged to introduce him to my mom. Fair enough that I needed a good old kick in the right direction, but I really had wanted him to meet her, and he couldn't begin to fathom the amount of joy that I had experienced when they got along; when my mom approved.
"I know, I'm sorry. I can't tell you just yet," he said, his voice now almost as small as mine.
We were standing in the middle of campus, having an argument while students passed by throwing us sideway glances of disapproval. He approached me, clasping my hands in his, my head hanging, focusing on the patches of grass beneath my feet.
"Fine," was all I said, pulling away from him and starting to walk in the direction of my house.
He ran to catch up with me, grabbing me by the hand and forcefully pulling me back to face him.
"Are you angry now?" he asked, hoping that I would be all cheery and understanding about the way he was acting.
"Yeah a bit," I answered, continuing to be completely honest with him, pulling away from him once again, suddenly overcome with a feeling of sickness.
I began to walk quickly, not really looking back, but knowing that Harry was right behind me; hearing him exhale heavily every couple of minutes, his footsteps sending loud thumps onto the pavement.
"You know, you really do spoil all my surprises with your bloody temper and stubbornness, why do I put up with it?" he said under his breath quietly, but once again, I caught every word.
"Well, why DO you put up with it?" I yelled, turning around abruptly, stopping him in mid-step, his head flying up. His expression matched that of a deer caught in headlights.
"You heard that?" he asked shocked.
"Well, why do you?" I asked again, finally asking the question that had been playing repeatedly in my head from the beginning.
He could have it so much easier with any girl in England, a gorgeous one, one that could follow him around, be at his side all the time, laugh at his jokes, and just be in his life. Not a stubborn, hard-headed, independent, average girl that lived across the God damn Atlantic ocean. My insides were shaking in terror; what if he came to his senses right now and decided that I really wasn't worth the effort? I'm pretty sure, no positive, that I would break on the spot, shattering into a million pieces if he came to that decision.
"Ok first of all, I put up with it because I love you," he said, sounding sincere, inching closer to me, wanting to wrap me in his arms, but I fidgeted away from him, out of his reach, not wanting to fall back into him without hearing an answer.
"That's not a reason," I said coldly.
His face fell at that moment; I had hurt him. I don't know what came over me to say such terrible things, but I was determined to get a proper answer, and my brain was ignoring the pleas from my heart to just drop it and wrap my arms around him, telling him that I loved him as well. He brought his head up slowly, looking me straight in the eyes, and took a deep breath. The anticipation of what he was about to say next was heavy, weighing down on both of us. This was it; he was going to tell me I really wasn't worth the bother.
"I put up with your stubbornness and your temper because its part of what makes you you, and I adore everything about you. You are so smart, so gorgeous and funny that I can't help but fall in love with all your qualities, even your temper and stubbornness. You stir in me feelings that I can't explain, ones that I haven't felt before, but am excited to explore. Every time I think about you, my heart speeds up. In the morning when I wake up and you're not there, my insides fade a little, wishing that I could just hold you. When you touch my face ever so gently with your fingertips, brushing my cheek, I can't help but have my legs turn to jelly as I'm succumbed by your touch. Your gentle laugh makes my head spin, your smell drives me crazy, and when we kiss, my heart melts every time as electricity shoots through me. When I say I love you, I mean all those things, and to me that is the sole reason as to why you are worth the effort," he finished softly, dropping his head.
I quickly wipe the stray tear that escaped down my cheek, realizing that my stubbornness has gotten the best of me once again. Damn it. He just said all those amazing things about me, and here I was yelling at him about something that he couldn't tell me just yet; he would tell me eventually, just not yet. I closed the distance between us and lunged into him, burying my face into his chest, tightening my hold around him, wanting to apologize profusely for being so stupidly pushy. He put his arms on my shoulders and pulled me out to an arm's length away. He clears his throat and looks down on me, taking in a deep breath. I don't deserve to be forgiven, and I know that whatever angry things he says next, I completely warrant coming my way.
"So, due to your stubbornness, I guess the surprise is ruined, so I might as well tell you. I can't bare you being angry with me for the last night I'm here. So, this was supposed to be for tomorrow before I left, but I might as well give it to you now," he says, reaching his hand into the breast pocket of his jacket, pulling out a few sheets of folded paper.
He hands them to me and his arms drop immediately to his sides, burying themselves into the depths of his pockets. I stand there for a second, looking at the folded papers in my hands, glancing between him and the papers, unsure of what to do.
"Well, open them," he insists nervously.
I can hear him breathing heavily; he seems worried, anxious in a sense but apprehensive at the same time. He starts to shift his weight from one foot to another, his hands burying deeper into his pant pockets. I focus my attention back to the papers in my hands. My fingers are trembling, unsure why, but the unsettling feeling that sits in the pit of my stomach must be some indication as to what the papers may contain. He made such a big deal about it, what the hell could it be?
I unfold them gently and immediately notice the official university logo on the top of the paper. This has something to do with me and my education, but how does Harry have anything to do with it? My heart is now pounding loudly in my chest, echoing in my ears as my head is filled with different scenarios; both good and bad. I look back up to Harry and notice that he is staring intently on my face, awaiting a reaction to what is in my hands. He looks uneasy, his face a slightly paler shade of his skin tone. What has he done to be so nervous about?
I give him a feeble curl of my lips, an attempt at a smile, and then focus my attention at the small writing in front of me. My eyes scan back and forth, down the page, trying to intake everything that is written. My eyes stop moving as I read the third sentence, the rate of my heart stopping completely and a lump finding itself lodged in my throat. My lungs have ceased to function, refusing to take in air. I can't believe what I am reading; I force myself to reread it from sheer disbelief.
A payment of $3,831.51 has been made to the account of student number 0675845 for the scholastic year of 2006/2007.
He paid for my tuition. I couldn't believe it. After all that had happened, he felt responsible and felt the need to rectify the situation. He wanted to take care of me, and he did so the best way he knew how; he ensured that I could continue to do what I loved. He ensured that I could continue to go to school after I had messed up and was on the verge of losing my scholarship.
"Is this what I think it is?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Well, if you think it's your tuition, then yeah," he said, laughing nervously.
My head shot up and my heart resumed beating, faster than ever, afraid that it would burst out of me chest from joy. He looked up at me and gave me a sheepish grin, a hopeful one, not knowing what kind of reaction I was really giving him, my face completely blank. Just looking at him at that moment, his nervousness and how unsure he was, made my heart melt. He so wanted it to be a surprise, to help me out, try to make things better, and I had ruined it. I felt terrible, but was so overcome by utter joy at that moment that I did the only thing that I found to be instinct.
I moved towards him and wrapped my arms around his neck, jumping up into his arms, placing my lips on his; the papers still firmly in my hands. My legs wrapped around his waist as his arms held me up, tightening as he pulled me in closer. My lips worked furiously, unable to fully convey the happiness that I felt, the complete and utter content that had filled all my senses. The heat in the air rose immediately, consuming me once again. I let out a small sigh as his tongue laced with mine, and I could hear a low groan in response. His lips were firmly pressed against mine as my hands pushed his head further into me still, the hunger for his taste taking over all my sensibility.
I heard a couple of whistles in the background, a couple of rude comments from passers-by, but I just couldn't be bothered; all muffled background noise to me. I was completely focused on Harry and the incredible sensation of just being with him. I pulled away and looked down on him, still wrapped up in each other's arms. A huge grin spread across his face, flowing into his eyes, his face so happy, like I've never seen before.
"I can't believe you did this, it's too much," I said in a whisper, our faces still close, noses almost touching.
"Are you happy?" he asked, trying to make sure he did a good thing.
"You have no idea Harry, but I can't accept this," I said, shuffling slightly out of his grasp, planting my feet back on the ground.
"What, why?" he asked, the happy expression on his face being replaced by one of disappointment and worry.
"It's too much," I said, looking back at the number; 3,831.51. It was way too much.
"No, it's not. I wanted to do it for you," he said pleadingly, moving closer to me, draping his arms softly over my hips.
"Harry, it's way too much. I really appreciate the gesture, but I can't accept it," I repeated, not looking up from the piece of paper.
"Does it make you happy?" he asked simply.
"Yes, unbelievably," I answered genuinely, that smile creeping onto my lips again.
"Then yes, you can keep it. And you will," he said forcefully, standing his ground. He didn't look like he was going to back down.
"Harry," I paused, "I can't. This is my problem, my fault, and I have to be the one to fix it," I say, backing away from him, the papers still firmly in my grasp.
I looked down to them again, scanning the sentence, the number echoing in my head. It was way too much, and it wasn't his problem to fix; it was mine. I couldn't depend on someone to come and throw money around to fix my problems, I had to deal with them myself; I had to be independent.
But it was such a nice gesture though, so thoughtful; not because of the amount of money, but because of the implications that the money carried with it. Harry knew how important my education was to me, and he wanted me to be happy, he wanted me to do what I loved to do, so he did what he thought was best, he paid for my tuition so I could continue to go to school.
I was torn. In my head, a battle of acceptance and stubbornness raged on; fighting between just giving in and accepting this amazing gift from my loving boyfriend, or giving the money back to maintain my independence so I wouldn't come to expect the help of others. I didn't want to be dependant. But I was supposed to change right, let him in?
"I want to help," he said softly, stepping closer to me to bridge the gap that I had created.
"But it's not your problem to help with Harry," I said quietly, my head dropping, unable to look at him as I uttered these words, knowing that I was slowly tearing his insides out.
"It is," he said more forcefully, wrapping his hand around my arm, and jerking me slightly towards him to grab my attention.
"No. I messed up, I let my grades drop, I did poorly on my midterms; not you. I have to be the one to fix this Harry," I said, dropping my gaze again, my breathing shallower as a sharp pain shot through my chest. I couldn't believe I was being so mean to him.
"But I didn't exactly help with any of that, I only made it worse," he said, the guilt rising in his voice to an undeniable pitch.
He felt guilty for it, and this was his way of trying to rectify it. He shouldn't feel guilty, and the fact that he did cemented once again how much he cared about me. I had to accept it for once.
"Don't blame yourself, that's why I didn't want to tell you. I didn't want you blaming yourself for something that is not your problem, that isn't your fault," I said, my voice a low and barely audible whisper.
"Listen. I want it to be my problem. I want to make your problems mine, I want to help you when you need it, I want to be there for you when you need me. Even though I can't always be here physically, I want you to always feel like I'm here for you in one way of another," he said wrapping his arms around my waist, leaning his forehead against mine and focusing his eyes on mine.
"Harry you're so sweet…" I whisper.
"So let me. I want to," he says in a low tone, his breath dancing across my cheek as he pulls me in closer to him, a firm hold on my waist.
I look up at him, meeting his eyes and immediately I feel my knees go weak. He catches me slightly as I slip down, the heat rising in my cheeks in an instant, realizing what a fool I must look like. He laughs quietly, looking at me, and then he just places his lips gently on mine. I smile into the kiss, unable to wipe the goofy expression from my face. I breathe in deeply, continuing to move my lips on his, the heat rising in my chest once again as he brings his hand gently to my face and strokes my cheek, sending shivers through every nerve in my body.
"Harry, I don't know what to say," I manage to utter breathlessly, pulling out of the kiss.
"Just tell me what a great boyfriend I am, that I'm absolutely gorgeous, best shag of your life, and that you love me," he said, raising his eyebrows, that same curl meeting his lips.
"I… love… you…" I said in between soft kisses to his mouth," and you're the best boyfriend ever," I said the last bit all in one breath, connecting my mouth to his again.
"You forgot gorgeous and best shag," he said breaking the kiss and looking down on me.
"I've had better," I responded, rolling my eyes skyward, a small grin playing on my lips.
"Better eh?" he said, his voice full of shock, "I'll just have to take you home and show you who's best now won't I?" he asked mischievously.
He grabbed my hand in his and started to pull me in the direction of home. I stumbled behind him, moving as fast as my short legs could carry me. I laughed uncontrollably at his response; always thinking of sex. But I couldn't blame him, every time we touched my head was filled with very compromising thoughts; those that I wouldn't dare repeat to anyone.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, not so fast there Judd," I managed to say between uncontrollable laughter, "we still have to get ready for the party. We have a lot of stuff to go and get," I said, stopping him in his tracks.
"Fine, but after, I'll show you," he said, moving his eyebrows up and down, giving me that all too familiar sneer of his lips.
"I'll be expecting it," I replied before I was dragged back in the direction we were headed.