Still Mine

Chapter Seventeen
Andrea’s POV
I’d never seen someone look so dejected. It took almost half an hour for him to come back out, by which time I’d almost worried myself to sleep, curled up in the fetal position on the sofa. I thought about pretending to be asleep already, keeping my eyes closed as he sat back down beside me. But the second I felt his cold hand on mine, I knew something was up. As perverted as he was, I hardly expected him to grab my hand so desperately, especially seeing as I was ‘asleep’. Jolting up straight, he did a double take. His face looked different; as if he hadn’t slept for days. Even his eyes seemed to have lost their shine. He kept opening his mouth slightly, like he was gonna say something, but never got them out. Eventually, Harry swore and covered his face with his hand, other hand still gripping tightly to mine.
“This isn’t the drugs doing this, is it?” I asked rhetorically, almost completely sure there was something going on in his head.
“No. I don’t even know why… it usually takes it away.” He said, eyes squeezed shut as if he were in pain.
“Takes what away?”
“Memories.”
There was a long silence. I wasn’t sure if I should have asked him to expand; to ask what exactly from his past he was trying to forget. But I knew from experience that bringing up painful memories wasn’t always the greatest way to conquer them, not for everyone. I inched closer to him, feeling agonizingly awkward and unsure of myself. I had no idea what he was thinking. But I knew he needed comfort. So I threw all caution to the wind and wrapped my arms around him, pulling him closer to me like a scared little child. He was hot all over; I could feel his body heat even through his clothes. Whatever he was thinking was really, really messing him up. And it was then that I felt a sharp pain in my chest… it suddenly hit me that I cared about this guy like mad. It was almost hard to take; a guy who I’d known for about four or five days had managed to affect me so strongly. That wasn’t right, surely.

Harry’s POV
A part of me really wanted to tell her what the hell was going on. Then again, the other part was telling me not to, reminding me that bringing it all up again would be like digging up a corpse; just plain nasty. So I decided to leave it, pulling away from Andy and taking a deep breath.
“I’m cool. It’s all good.” I said, staring at her with the most convincing face I could pull. I dunno if I fooled her but she left it, unlike most girls who go on, and on, and on until you literally have to chuck them out.
“Want a cup of tea?” She asked, standing up and padding over to the kitchen. I guess I was kinda surprised that she’d shaken off the previous situation so very quickly and easily… it was as if she was trying to avoid the subject too.
“Sure as hell I do.” I answered, joining her in the kitchen. She switched the kettle on and we chatted about random crap for a while, going back to the living room once we were equipped with our mugs of tea. Andy took a sip and then looked up at me over the top of her mug.
“Drugs are really terrible, you know.”
I sighed and put the tea down. This chat, this kind of lecture thing people launch into, I didn’t wanna hear it. Especially seeing as I thought we’d moved on from that little fiasco.
“Wow, I was totally unaware of that Andy, thanks.” I snapped back sarcastically, standing up and wandering over to the window. “Look, I don’t need some big pep talk from you, ‘kay? How stupid do you think I am; I’m a university student and you think I don’t know that drugs are bad for you?”
She sat quietly for a second, taking another sip and then shaking her head.
“I didn’t suggest that… I just said drugs are terrible. I never said what they’re terrible for, Harry.” Her voice sounded almost dry; like she had a cough or something. I loved the way she always managed to inject my name in to so many of her sentences, she had a very light accent and it always made buzz a little when she spoke, let alone said my name. I tried to work out what she meant. It failed.
“What the hell are you on about? Andy, you’re overtired. You can go now if you want, you’re obviously annoyed with me for the whole drug thing.” I said hastily, pulling the notion that she was annoyed with me out of absolutely nowhere.
“But Harry, I’m not annoyed with you at all! You could let me explain what I meant before jumping to conclusions…”
Raising an eyebrow, I contemplated the decision that lay before me. Either agree, and let her go into some monologue about how drugs are bad, or disagree and make her unhappy. I didn’t like either idea, but the second one seemed too harsh. So I sighed and reluctantly fell back onto the sofa. She was still staring at me with those huge autumn-colour eyes, all shiny and curious.
“Go on then.”
Andrea sat up straight, drawing her legs up to her stomach and leaning her head on her knees.
“What about the people around you? Don’t you think they’ll be hurt by this?” She asked, cocking her head to one side.
“Andy, I don’t do this around people. The only time I do, is when they’re doing it too. So your argument is invalid. No one gets ‘hurt’.” I reasoned flatly. It was true. Sometimes I’d smoke around non-smokers, but not weed. Or anything else I do, for that matter.
“No, you still don’t get it…” She whimpered, rolling her head and wiping her eyes. It was really late now, she was begging to look as if she was going to pass out any second.
“Go back home now Andy… just go to sleep. It doesn’t matter, okay? Nothing matters. Everything’s fine. Go back to sleep.” I said firmly but unconvincingly; I didn’t really want to be left alone again, but she needed to sleep. She took a deep breath, opened her mouth to disagree, and immediately fell asleep. It was kinda funny I guess, watching her slouch to the side when just seconds ago she’d been so adamant to prove a point. But then it was sad knowing it was my fault she’d crashed like that.

Third Person’s POV
Seeing as Andrea was only in a dressing gown and slippers, Harry guessed she hadn’t even bothered locking her flat or anything. He downed a few glasses of water, trying to bring himself fully back to reality, flushing out the last bits of intoxication (or so he thought) and went back to where Andrea lay awkwardly on the sofa. There was a moment of no movement as Harry tried to decide whether to leave her where she was, or if it would be better to pick her up and take her home. Looking around the room, the air was still somewhat foggy with the smoke from his ‘activities’ earlier that night… it was a better idea to take her home. He swept her up in his arms and made his way out of his apartment, across the street and up to Andrea’s flat. Sure enough, her front door was simply wedged open with a ‘Glamour’ magazine. Harry tutted at her naivety and pushed through the door, right through to her bedroom where he placed her gently on the bed, slipped her slippers off and pulled the duvet over her.

Job done. Harry stumbled out of her bedroom, realizing that he was still a quite a little way from totally sober when he smashed his hip on the corner of the breakfast bar worktop and started cursing under his breath. Shove the 1 minute walk home, he thought, crashing on the sofa. He’d shut the door of his apartment… there was no reason why he couldn’t sleep there, was there?