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Harry’s thoughts weren’t always easy to read from his expression—kind of like an open book, but written in a language I still had more to learn. I hadn’t mastered it, but I practiced. His expression, though, was hard to read. His eyes were tender and filled with softness, but not a trace of a smile graced his lips.
Pulling out of his embrace, I made my way over to his bed, sitting on top of the comforter. As my gaze roamed over the room, I tried not to think about how he slept in this bed, tossed and turned underneath these covers. I tried not to imagine what he wore to bed. Sweatpants and a shirt? No shirt?
No sweatpants?
“You should play something for me,” I told him impulsively, pointing at the guitar case a half a second later.
“Oh, I see how it is,” Harry murmured teasingly, but swiped up the case. “You just want me for my voice.”
“Hey, I’m not denying it.”
He sat down on the bed, laying the guitar case between us. The locks popped easily as he slid his thumb along them, and he gently pulled the lid open, revealing a beautiful acoustic guitar beneath. He pulled it out, and sheet music had been trapped underneath.
“You’re the one who writes the music?” I asked, picking up a random paper. I couldn’t read sheet music, but it looked so elegant, so purposeful.
“I collaborate with Vincent on it. And the lyrics. Natasha…well, she’s just there for looks, I guess.”
The mention of his ex and her looks made my warm thoughts turn cold. “She is really pretty.”
Harry rested the guitar against his thigh, leaning on it ever so slightly. With his thumb, he pulled on the strings, eliciting a beautiful sound. “We’ve never had the exes talk, you know.”
“My list is pretty short.”
“Mine too. I’ve only dated two people.”
“You can go first.” My heart beat fast, a strange surge of nerves shivering over me.
“My first girlfriend was during my freshman year. I think we called each other boyfriend and girlfriend because everyone else did it. We weren’t that serious.”
I nudged his leg with my foot. “You didn’t break her heart into a million little pieces?”
“Nope. We both agreed we didn’t really work together. Natasha, though…” He exhaled softly. “That was more complicated.”
I knew this was a conversation we needed to have, to get everything out in the open, but I found myself hesitant to go down this road.
“We’d gone to school together our whole lives, but didn’t start dating until the beginning of my senior year. I really don’t know why it took so long, honestly.”
Yeah, I was really wondering if I wanted to hear this story.
“At first, things were okay. Fun. And then I…” He trailed off, a crease forming between his brows as he thought about how to phrase it. “Well, we took a break for a while. When we tried again this past August, things weren’t the same.Iwasn’t the same, you know?”
“Why’d you two break it off in the first place?”
“Lots of reasons,” he said quickly, brushing it off. “And trying things again made me feel like I was back to that kid in high school, doing dumb things, making dumb decisions.” His voice had turned very serious and very low as he kept talking. His fingers still strummed, creating a lulling background noise to his words. “I didn’t like the way being with her felt anymore.”
He still hadn’t looked at me, but a haunted expression now festered in his eyes, as if he were no longer looking at his bedroom, but peering inward. “So, you broke things off for good or she did?”
“I did. In November, right after we started our band. I thought she’d ditch, but she loves the spotlight, and everything’s worked out.”
I couldn’t help but make a face. “She doesn’t still flirt with you?” The image of her trailing her finger along his arm burned in my brain. “You don’t miss her?”
He stopped strumming. “It’s not like that. I swear, nothing’s happened between us since November, and nothing will.” Harry held my gaze steadily, as if trying to show the sincerity in his eyes. “I don’t feel anything like that toward her anymore. What I had with her isnothinglike I have with you, Destelle. It’s hard to explain why it’s different, but it’s like—like you see me, and when I’m with you, I feel like…like I’m good enough.”
Seeing this vulnerable side of Harry turned my insides to mush.Good enough. It made me think of little Harry, bouncing around from home to home before settling with a distant cousin. I wanted to pull him into my arms, stroke my fingers through his hair.
Instead, I watched him quietly, watched the delicate way his fingers moved. “I feel the same way, you know. You don’t see Stella or Destelle—you just seeme.”
“And I like what I see.”
