You Found Me

I gasped audibly as I pulled away from Harry, who was still going strong, his lips pressed to my neck, his hands roaming up and down my body. “Harry, wait, what time is it?”

“Who cares?” he mumbled against a sensitive spot on my throat, making me shiver.

“I do,” I laughed. “Because I have this thing called a curfew.”

Harry groaned as he sat up, running a hand through his hair. His lips were red and slightly puffy from kissing, and his curls had been a hot mess prior to him readjusting them. “Ugh. Why?”

“Because my dad needs to have a gauge to make sure I’m not missing or dead.” I pulled myself into a seated position and rummaged through the small purse I brought to find my phone. “And we need to leave now if I’m going to make it.”

“Shit,” he sighed. “Alright, fine.”

“We can hang out other times,” I told him as I got to my feet and picked up my dress off the floor, slipping it over my head. “Want to zip me up?”

He got a mischievous look on his face as he came over to me and gently, slowly, slid the zipper up my back, letting his soft fingers run against my tender skin as he did so. When he reached the top, he rested a hand on each of my upper arms and kissed where my neck met my shoulder.

I let out a contented sigh before snapping back to reality. “C’mon, Harry. I have to get home, or my father is going to kill me.”

He shook his head and ripped his shirt off the back of the couch, shoving his arms and head through it as he walked toward the door. “Man, I wish your curfew wasn’t so early.”

“I know,” I sympathized, but really, I didn’t share his sentiment. I knew that if my curfew had been an hour later, I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself from going all the way with him. And I wasn’t sure if I was ready to make that step yet.

As far as I was concerned, not being sure meant that I wasn’t ready. So, truthfully, I was glad that the hour had descended upon us so quickly.

The ride home was kind of awkward, since I could tell Harry was a little irritated. Not with me, though. That much I could tell.

He pulled into my driveway and leaned over to peck me on the lips. “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” I agreed.

I climbed out of the car, but just as I was about to slam the door shut behind me, Harry called out, “Hey, Leigh.”

“Hm?” I asked, leaning back into the car.

“Would this be a bad time to tell you that your dress is on inside out?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I screeched, straightening up and looking at the stitching in my dress. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me when you were zipping me up?! Kind of hard to…miss…”

Then, I saw it. Because he was trying to freak me out.

“Ugh. I hate you. Bye.”

Before he could say anything in response, I slammed the door shut and scampered up to the front door. And, thankfully, I ended up stepping into my kitchen at ten fifty-seven. I felt kind of incredible.

“Hey, baby,” Dad greeted as I walked through the living room. “How was your date?”

“Awesome,” I replied honestly. “Harry took me to a vintage movie house, and we saw Gone with the Wind.”

“Sounds like fun,” he approved. “Do you want to finish watching this special with me? It’s all about Abraham Lincoln’s assassination.”

“As fascinating as that sounds…” I trailed off, inching toward the staircase, “I’m pretty exhausted. I’m going to head to sleep.”

“Your loss,” Dad sing-songed as I started toward the stairs, slipping off my wedges while I walked.

As I ascended to the second floor, I could hear the television’s volume turning up behind me. “No, seriously. My new phone comes with everything. Even theft deterrent.”

I rolled my eyes at the ridiculous commercial before shutting myself into my room, tossing my shoes across the floor.

After changing into my pajamas, I shut off the light and crawled into bed, pulling the covers up around my chin.

But instead of sleep washing over my mind, thoughts and worries started to rev through me, making rest a non-option.

The biggest concern I had, the one that kept popping to the forefront no matter how many times I tried to shove it back, was whether I was moving too quickly in my relationship with Harry.

Sure, I liked him. I liked him a lot. Maybe too much.

But either way, we had only known each other a few weeks, and things were escalating quickly. Our makeout sessions were barely characterized as such, and although we hadn’t had any real sexual contact, I could tell that he wanted to. And while he hadn’t seen anything of mine that wouldn’t be displayed if I had been wearing a bikini, I could tell he was frustrated with that barrier, too.

But no matter how frustrated he got, my first priority had to be my comfort. Because if I felt pressured to go further with him than I was okay with, then the experience would just be awful for the both of us. After all, lord knew that I wasn’t subtle about my emotions; if I felt squirmy with what he was doing, he’d know about it.

I let out a sigh and flipped my body over so I was facing the wall instead of the rest of my room.

Thinking about Harry was starting to make my stomach churn with anxiety. I knew I had to have a talk with him about our relationship, but I also knew that it was going to be an awfully awkward conversation.

And I had to accept the fact that it was entirely possible that he would break up with me over it.

After all, who doesn’t want a summer romance filled with passion, excitement, and spontaneity, especially right before starting a new chapter in life? It was something straight out of any teen book or movie.

But I just wasn’t ready for that kind of fling. I wasn’t that kind of girl. I needed commitment, and I needed time to get over the commitment I’d made to Jared, even if it had been over a month since he’d dumped me on my ass.

I swallowed my fear and closed my eyes, trying to block out all the thoughts. I figured it would have been easy enough, since I’d decided that I had to have a talk with Harry, but such was not the case.

Since making decisions was no longer on the agenda, my mind decided that it would be a great time to start formulating just exactly I was going to say to him, how I was going to word things, what facial expressions I would make. And, of course, it just wouldn’t be complete unless my mind filled in the blanks of what he’d say, what he’d look like, the twinkle of hurt in his eye.

The more I thought about it, the less I wanted to have that conversation with him. I hated hurting people’s feelings, even people who deserved it. So the thought of possibly upsetting Harry made my heart drop.

But unfortunately, if it meant my comfort, then I was going to have to suck up the possible awkwardness and go through with telling him.

And I had to tell him as soon as possible. Next time I saw him.

After a long while, I was finally able to soften the thoughts in my mind into whispers, and I fell asleep.