Still the One

Harry’s Point of View

I walk down the street of this old town in silence. Libby’s slim fingers were still intertwined with mine. I hold onto her hand with dear life in my opinion. She doesn’t say anything, which throws me off. I didn’t know just how to respond to what just happened.

Of course I would run into one of my ex girlfriends in this small town.

“We talked forever before he took me to the lake”

Of course Lauren would say that. It’s not like I bring every girl I talk with to my dad’s house.

‘I love you.’

When I look down Libby is looking up at me with the slightest cutest smile. I couldn’t help but get some kind of girly butterflies in my stomach.

‘I love you, Lib.’ I assure her as I squeeze her hand with my own. ‘About what happened back there-…’

‘I don’t care about what she said or what happened between you guys.’ Libby cuts me off and I’m thankful. I didn’t know how I was going to follow up with that sentence. ‘You’re mine. I’m not letting you go.’

‘I’m yours?’ I smile down at her tiny frame.

‘You’ve always been mine.’ She nods biting her soft, gentle lips.

‘I like this possessive attitude you have.’

‘It’s in the past right, Harry?’ Libby puts on a brave face but I could easily read the worry in her eyes.

‘It’s all in the past.’ I assure with a firm nod.

I would never do anything to jeopardize what I have with her. I couldn’t even dream of it. I would literally rather have every single bone in my body broken repeatedly than lose her again.

‘Good.’ She replies in a whisper.

I look back behind me at the flower shop in the distance. It was a representation of the relationship I once had with Lauren. In the distance. In the past. As the house gets closer I couldn’t help but think about my relationship with Libby. Growing stronger and stronger. I am actually praying that I don’t screw this up.

Libby’s Point of View

When we made it back to Harry’s dad’s place we went up stairs where I ended up taking a nap. When I woke Harry was gone and the door was closed. I shuffle over to the wooden door and twist the knob walking out of the room. Gemma, Des, and Connor were all sat at the kitchen table. Harry was hovering over the stove with some kind of plastic utensil in his hand.

‘Oh it’s sleeping beauty.’ Connor teases as I find a seat at the table.

‘It’s my beautiful girlfriend.’ Harry leaves the stove to place a soft kiss on my forehead before going back across the kitchen.

‘Harry’s making dinner.’ Gemma informs me, ‘this could go surprisingly well or terribly.’ She lets out a short snicker as her brother glares at her.

‘Not to brag but my cooking is amazing.’ Harry comments over his shoulder.

‘Do you know what the term bragging means?’ Gemma shoots back.

‘Now, Gem. Let’s see what your brother has up his sleeve.’ Des pipes in, ‘is he the master chef he’s claiming to be?’ Des wonders placing his eyes on me.

‘Harry’s a really great cook.’ I compliment nicely.

‘BIASED.’ Connor and Gemma scoff in unison.

‘You’ll see.’ Harry replies directing his full attention to the stove.

Half an hour later Harry was putting down his famous pasta in front of me. The smell greeted my nostrils with a warm cheesy embrace. Harry pulls his chair beside me with his own plate of food.

‘Go ahead everyone. Try it.’ He instructs.

I take a bite making sure to get both grilled chicken and the long stringy noodles. Harry’s deep green eyes wait for approval as he glances around the room.

‘It’s incredible, as usual.’ I smile leaning on his shoulder.

‘Thank you baby.’ He says lowly wrapping an arm around my shoulder.

‘I must say this is delicious.’ Gemma nods approvingly.

‘She’s right son, amazing.’ Des chimes in before twisting a big chunk of noodles around on his fork.

‘Never doubted you, pal.’ Connor laughs tapping fists with Harry from across the table.

‘There comes a time in every great chef’s life where he must do the dishes.’ Gemma gathers all of the plates placing them into the large sink.

‘Ghee, thanks.’ Harry stiffs out a laugh walking over to the sink.

‘I’ll help.’ I offer following Harry over to the sink.

‘Thanks.’ He grins as he hits the water faucet on.

Harry washes the dishes while I dry them putting them away.

‘You know, we could do this much more often if you lived at my flat with me.’ He says.

I study his face for a smile but his expression is stone cold. His eyes study my face just as mine studied his.

‘What?’ I ask, even though I had heard him clearly.

‘I think you should move in with me, maybe.’

I had been living with Harry for a few days after someone ram shacked my flat. It felt nice but I wonder how it would be if we were with each other twenty four-seven. With Harry I honestly felt secure and safe. I’m not sure I even wanted to go back to my flat.

‘Are you serious?’

‘Would I joke with you?’

‘Yes.’ I laugh, ‘you always joke with me.’

‘This is true.’ Harry smirks. ‘But right now I’m being one hundred percent serious. What do you say?’

‘How about we talk about it when we get back?’

‘Works for me.’ He shrugs handing me another plate.

I open my mouth to reply when there’s a firm knock on the front door. Harry and I both glance at each other before we hear Des making his way over to the door. The front door creeks open before the exchange of voices bounce off the walls. It was a female voice. Annoyingly high-pitched and extremely familiar. I follow Harry around the corner and stop dead in my tracks. There stood Lauren wrapping her arms around Gemma and Des. This could not be happening. Harry’s ex girlfriend could not be standing in his father’s house right now. My eyes have to be playing tricks on me. They have to be.

‘I haven’t seen you in ages.’ Lauren squeals, arms still around Gemma.

‘I know! Where have you been hiding?!’ Gemma wonders, returning the embrace.

For some reason the strangest pitch of jealous rushing through my body.

‘What brings you by?’ Des wonders. His voice is thick with curiosity.

‘I brought brownies.’ She holds up a bright pink tin in the air.

‘How thoughtful.’ Des cheers happily.

I watch speechless as Lauren strides across the wooden floors. Her hips sway side to side in the most obnoxious way.

‘I know how they’re your favorite, H.’

H.

Oh how cute. A nickname.