You Found Me

Harry’s hand was entwined with mine as we walked up to the open field where he wanted to have the picnic. It had taken about twenty minutes of driving around in circles to find it, since the directions he’d printed off the internet were shit, but we got there in the end.

“I’m pretty sure this place has ticks,” I informed Harry coolly as he put down the basket.

He rolled his eyes and took the thick, slightly scratchy blanket off his arm, shaking it out to make sure it laid on the grass in a somewhat flat manner. “I don’t see anything. I think we’ll be fine.”

“Who’d be able to see the ticks from all the way up here?” I scoffed. “The whole point of ticks is that they’re almost invisible.”

“Leigh, just sit down.” As demonstration, he dropped down on his butt and pulled the basket over to his side.

Sighing loudly, I followed directions and copied his actions exactly. A shot of pain fired from my tailbone all the way up my spine, but I made an effort to hide it.

“Here,” Harry offered, handing me a sandwich. “I didn’t know what you liked, so it’s just a basic turkey and cheese.”

“Sounds great,” I complimented. I unwrapped the sandwich and took a bite, watching Harry as he did the same.

For a long time, the two of us chewed in silence, the only sound the occasional shrieks of children and yells of parents on the playground in the distance. I couldn’t see them from where we were, but I had gone to that playground often enough when I was in elementary school to know it existed just beyond the hill.

As I crinkled up the plastic wrap that had secured my sandwich, chewing the last remnants of the food, Harry glared and huffed at me, clearly exasperated. “Are you going to tell me?”

I felt a light blush flood into my cheeks. And I thought I’d been subtle about the whole ordeal. “What do you mean?”

“It’s pretty obvious you’re pissed off at me.”

Okay. Well, that wasn’t exactly how I wanted to lead into the conversation. “I’m not angry at you.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Harry sighed. “You were silent the whole ride over, you’re not enthusiastic at all about this picnic, which I thought would cheer you up, you tried to pick a fight with me when we got here, and you didn’t say a word while we ate.”

I stayed silent, searching for the right words to say. While I definitely needed to get out my thoughts, I didn’t want to make it sound like I was hostile toward him at all. Because it wasn’t his fault. It was my fault for going entirely scatterbrained whenever he kissed or touched me.

“And now you’re not talking to me again.” He looked at me, anger written all over his face. “What? Did I say something to offend you? Are you irritated that I wanted to make you feel better?”

“Harry, will you let me talk?” In spite of myself, I let out a little chuckle. “You’re not going to be able to get an answer if you won’t let me think.”

He sighed, but he sat back, putting one knee into the air and draping his arm over it, trying to look relaxed, even though I was positive he was anything but.

Finally, after I felt confident enough about what I was going to say, I started, “Let me just be clear. This isn’t about you, okay?”

His eyes narrowed. “You saying that just makes me think that it’s about me even more.”

I gave him a glare before continuing. “I don’t want you to get hurt by this, but I’m just going to come out and say it, since I figure that dancing around it isn’t going to help anything.”

I paused there, waiting for him to make some kind of interjection, but he actually kept his mouth shut for once.

“Alright. Look, Harry, I really like you. You’re attractive and funny and sweet…”

“Why do I feel like you’re breaking up with me?” Oh, there was the comment I’d waited for. Idiot.

“I’m not breaking up with you. Shut up.”

He pressed his lips together tightly, as if it were a massive struggle to keep his mouth closed for a few minutes.

“My point is that…I think our relationship is moving too quickly. We’ve known each other for less than a month, and we’ve already almost gone all the way a few times. And I’m not ready for that.”

I had expected Harry to be frustrated, or to throw a fit like a little kid, accusing me of being immature or not ready for a real relationship. But instead, he just looked kind of hurt and sad, as if he were concerned that my reason for not wanting to have sex with him was the him part of the equation.

“Leigh, why didn’t you say something sooner?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowing in concern. “I wasn’t trying to push you to do anything you weren’t ready for.”

“I know!” I rushed quickly. “I know. I know that it’s my fault for getting lost in the moment and…” My face heated up as I word-vomited the rest of my sentence. “You just make me feel things that I haven’t felt before, and it kind of scares me.”

Harry scooted himself closer to me, cupping one of my cheeks with his huge, warm hand. Instinctively, I closed my eyes and leaned into it, feeling the caring gesture of his thumb running across my cheekbone. “You’re too controlling,” he whispered, moving even closer to me. “Just let yourself feel what you’re feeling. Don’t overanalyze it.”

“I know that’s what I should do,” I grumbled. “But I can’t. I just can’t move this quickly.”

“I understand,” he agreed, leaning forward and pecking me on the lips. “It’s okay. We’ll move slower. I don’t want to scare you.”

I stared into his green eyes for a second before closing the distance between us again. Almost immediately, his tongue ran in the space between my lips, urging me to deepen the kiss.

Just to tease him, I shut my lips tighter, closing off any access he might have gained.

Groaning, he laid me down under him, keeping his mouth against mine as he mumbled, “Ugh, please don’t do that.”

“We’re slowing down,” I snickered, reaching up to run my hand through the curls on the back of his head.

“Not that slow,” he urged. “Please not that slow.”

I started to laugh out loud, but he cut me off with another kiss, this time popping his tongue into my mouth before I could make any actions toward holding back.

As we kissed, my body was hyper-aware to anything he was doing, making sure that my comfort level was still at a place where I wouldn’t have to worry about it, lose sleep over it, or get myself sick with anxiety.

But he seemed to respect our discussion; his hands stayed firmly on the curve above my hip, not allowing himself to explore in the ways he always had before. My fingers wrapped themselves in his soft hair, thanking God that he didn’t use product that would get my hands sticky or slimy.

I finally pulled away for air as Harry moved his lips to my jaw, planting soft, fleeting kisses from my jaw to my collarbone. “So how slow are we going, exactly?” he mumbled against my pulse.

I closed my eyes at the sensation, getting lost in the feeling. “This is good,” I assured him. “No feeling me up, and my shirt has to stay on.”

“What about-?”

“If you’re not taking off my shirt, then you’re sure as hell not taking off my pants.”

“Alright, alright,” he sighed good-naturedly. “At least we get to kiss.”

With that, he captured my mouth with his, our lips moving in synchronization, our bodies already used to the way the other operated.

I was almost completely lost in the feel of him against me when I felt a tickle on my bare leg. “Harry,” I garbled into his mouth.

Confused, he pulled back and ran a hand through his hair, probably trying to fix the chaos I’d caused. “What?”

“What’s on my leg?”

He pushed himself off me, sitting cross-legged on the blanket. “What are you…?”

“HOLY FUCK,” I screeched, slapping a hand over my mouth. “IT’S A TICK. HARRY, GET IT OFF.”

“I DON’T WANT IT ON ME,” he screamed back. “WHAT DO I DO?!”

“JUST FLICK IT OFF,” I directed loudly, feeling the tears pool in my eyes. “HURRY THE FUCK UP. BEFORE IT BITES ME AND GIVES ME LYME DISEASE.”

Harry freaked out for a second, grimacing and flapping his hands in overwhelming disgust, before reaching over and flicking the miniscule black bug off me.

“Let’s get out of here before we get diseased,” I insisted, climbing to my feet and shaking myself out, feeling like bugs of all kinds were crawling all over me.

“Good idea,” Harry agreed. He picked up the basket and started running back toward the car.

“What about the blanket?!” I called to him, pointing at the thing.

“No way in hell I’m taking that now!” he responded, his eyes wide with fear.

Snickering, I fluffed up my hair and jogged over to him, understanding his reasoning.