I'll Fight My Corner

We left after that. Harry said he didn't care much for the party anyway and while I knew it was because of what happened to me, I could tell he was bored.

I spent most of the car ride with my head resting on the window. The seatbelt was digging into my neck but I didn't really care. The pressure from that was still less than the pressure of the stares his friends had given me. His radio played quietly and he drummed his long fingers on the steering wheel, humming along to the songs that he knew. I turned my head to stare at him and traced my eyes from his ear down his jawline, up to his pink lips and pointed nose, and then his green eyes that seemed to change color depending on his mood.

At a stoplight, his eyes met mine and he smiled lazily. His lazy smiles were my favorite, not only because they were adorable but because I knew they were only meant for me. In the time that I spent with him, he never used that smile with anyone else. Maybe his mother, but I couldn't be sure. For now, it was mine.

And I started to think that maybe we were starting to become very important to each other but I wasn't sure. He held my hand the entire night, and didn't that mean something? He told me he would take care of me. Didn't that mean something?

But somehow I knew that this was different than what I had read about in books and watched in movies. I didn't want to know the answer to my question so I just stayed silent.

It had only been a few days, but my entire friendship with Harry was so different than any of the friendships I had ever had before.

Friends don't hold hands and tell each other things like, "I'll take care of you," especially after just a few weeks. I knew that for a fact. Did Harry care for everyone in his life as much as he cared for me?

A shrill ringing broke the silence and Harry's phone, resting in one of the cup holders, lit up and started to vibrate. He picked it up, answering the call and putting it on speaker.

"Hello?"

"Where are you?" The voice on the other end was loud and demanding. I cringed.

"Out."

"Where?" The voice asked again, this time even angrier.

"I'm driving Emmalee home, dad. Calm down."

"Get your ass home or you won't hear the end of it from me. I better see you soon."

"Okay."

The line went dead and my eyes went wide and Harry sighed. "He's drinking again."

My brow furrowed as I waited for an explanation, but he didn't say anything.

"Harry? Is he always like that?"

I was afraid to hear the answer because I couldn't imagine that a soul as beautiful as his could be tied down to one as frightening as his father's seemed to be.

"Only when he drinks too much."

I glanced at the time in his car and it was almost 2. I remembered my curfew, but I looked at Harry and his features changed to show the slightest hint of anxiety.

"Harry, you don't have to take me home right now."

He blinked at me. "What? But it's almost 2."

"You have to get home. You've done a lot for me tonight so let me do this little thing for you. It'll be okay. Just go home. I can wait."

"No, it's okay. He's done this a lot and I know I'll be fine, Emmalee. Don't get yourself into trouble for me."

I rolled my eyes. "Harry. If you bring me home, I won't get out of the car. Then it'll take even longer for you to get home. Go."

He let out a sigh. "You're so annoying sometimes."

I scoffed in response. "And you're not?"

One of his hands let go of the wheel and was now tapping quickly on the console, one by one in a row. When I took it gently in my two hands, I could feel it trembling ever so slightly. I knew it was a risk to take his hand, but I wanted to help him. It was what he did for me when I was scared, and I remembered that he took my hand to help him with Stacy. To calm him down, I traced his tattoos and spun his rings around. I whispered, "You'll be okay. I'm here."

And he whispered back, "I know."

And I just kept exploring him and he kept driving and eventually, he stopped shaking and his breathing was back to normal.

"Why is it so easy to touch you?" I asked him. And it was. I had trouble even hugging relatives that I had known since birth, but with Harry, it came naturally.

"Probably the same reason it's so easy for me to take care of you. But I don't know what it is." He shrugged. "I've never taken care of anyone in my life before. But when I saw you, I knew I had to do it."

There was the answer to my question. And suddenly, I got defensive. I never asked him to do that for me.

"What? Why? I can take care of myself."

"I know you can," he chuckled, "But you were doing too much on your own. I wanted to carry the weight on your shoulders."

"This is coming from the boy that I picked up in the middle of the night, nursing a nose bleed and an inflated ego?"

He shook his head, smiling. "Yeah, but look where that led you, huh?"

I smiled back. "It got me in a car with a crazy boy. Remind me to write your elaborate thank you note."

He laughed a little and said, "See? You've got me laughing, too. You're a sneaky little one."

I let go of his hand and started to shift back into place in my seat, but he grabbed my hand again. "Who said you could stop?"

Now it was my turn to chuckle. "Haven't you had enough of my hand today? You've been grabbing onto it like a stuffed animal, Harry."

"Maybe I like holding your hand. Is that such an odd concept?"

"Friends don't hold hands." My smile faded and I gently tried to pull my hand out of his again.

"I thought you could tell by now that we aren't just friends, Emma."

"Then what are we?"

"We're two people taking care of each other."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"It's not an equation, Em, it doesn't have to."

I couldn't wrap my head around it. What kind of relationship did we have, really? And most importantly, "Why me?"

"What?" He sounded genuinely confused.

"Why me? Why do you spend time with me? Why are you opening yourself up to me?"

He was silent for a while, and I just let go of his hand and turned to the window once more.

"Because I've gone far too long on my own and you have too. I know you have. Our loneliness fits together."

"You're not lonely. You know so many people, Harry."

"It's not the same as being with you."

Taken by surprise, I left it at that. We were silent for the rest of the drive. I started to wonder when "Harry and me" turned into "We" and when "Tutor and learner" turned into "Friends." Everything was a blur and all I knew was that it led up to us here, now, bracing ourselves for what was waiting for Harry at home. And it was me ignoring my curfew for a boy that I knew almost nothing about, other than the fact that he liked having his hand held and that he liked to take care of me. It led up to him trusting me with family secrets and some of his own secrets as well.

If friendship and love were a spectrum, we were stuck in the middle but I knew I was leaning towards love. I had read about it but never felt it and this seemed to match the words I ran my eyes over in the middle of the night. At least, it was almost love for me and it had to be something like it for him, too because bringing a girl home to your angry father was a risk and he was taking it with me.

Because telling a girl you would take care of her after watching her vomit was most definitely something like love.

So I sat there in his passenger seat, looking out the window at the sidewalk and the people going by in unlit color and tried to figure out my feelings and decipher his, too. I could feel myself unraveling and I was falling for a boy that called me little bird and held my hand and took care of me without my asking. I looked at him and I hoped he felt the same pull in his gut, the one I felt that told me that I was meant to be spending time with him. I hoped he felt the same drop in his chest whenever he saw me, and I hoped he felt the same tingling in his stomach when he thought of me.

I was still deep in thought when the car stopped in his driveway and suddenly I faced a large house, much larger than I had ever seen. I looked to my side and there were many more like it. My jaw dropped slightly and I looked at him, silently asking him if this really was where he lived. I only faced a worried expression on his face and remembered why we were here.

He came around and opened my door. "I'll be in and out quickly, I promise. Just wait a little and then I'll take you home."

I nodded and he shut the door. I watched him make his way to his front door and he walked inside, wearing what looked like a grimace. I worried for him and started to wish that I had gone inside, too.

But whatever was going on couldn't have been that bad. Harry knew how to take care of himself. I pulled out my phone to text my mom. I had already received a few messages from her. I knew that when I got home, I would not hear the end of it and I wasn't looking forward to the argument that was going to spring up as a result of her knowledge of just how much time Harry and I had been spending together. Now that he had caused me to break curfew, she would most definitely have a reason to be angry with me.

Just as I finished typing out my message telling her that I was going to be late and that I was sorry and I would explain, I saw Harry coming out of the door in my peripheral vision.

He looked angry and disheveled, and I started to get out of the car.

"Emma, no. I'll take you home now. Get back in the car."

I shook my head and saw that his lip was bleeding. "Jesus, Harry. What happened?"

I heard another voice trailing after him and heavy footsteps from behind. I looked over his shoulder and saw who I presumed to be his father.

"Harry. Get back inside now." He was fuming and looked like he was about to explode.

"I need to take her home, dad. Don't you understand that?" He pushed me back gently and faced his father.

"Didn't you hear me? I told you to go back inside. I'll hit you again if you don't start fucking listening to me. You were out late again doing God knows what when you're supposed to be home, here in your room. Fuck's sake, Harry, can't you just listen?"

His dad's arm started to swing out and collided with Harry's eye. My eyes were the widest they had ever been and all of a sudden I felt so much hatred for a man I didn't know at all.

Harry stumbled back into me and I did my best to keep him standing. His father spat at the ground in front of him and walked back inside. Harry ran a hand through his hair and let out a shaky sigh.

Turning to me, he said, "I'm sorry you had to see that, Emma." He held a hand over his injured eye.

I didn't say anything and lowered his hand, inspecting the area that his dad had punched. It was starting to swell and I knew tomorrow his skin would be deep violet, the kind that wasn't beautiful at all.

"I'll take you home now."

"Harry, no. You're staying here."

He shook his head. "No. How are you going to get home if I stay here?"

I took a deep breath. "I'll stay here with you. It's okay. My mom will understand." She wouldn't, but it would be okay.

"Emma-"

"Harry, please? Let me take care of you. You can't drive with a swollen eye. It'll be hard for you to see the road in front of you. I'm past my curfew anyway. What's done is done."

He surrendered and led me inside his house, shutting the front door behind him. There seemed to be no one but him and his dad home.

Harry and I walked into the kitchen where he opened the freezer door and extracted an ice pack for his eye.

We went up the stairs and I decided not to think about where his father could be. Harry opened a door and let me inside, following close behind me.

He hit a switch by the door and the room lit up. My eyes roamed the space and I saw a large bed, unmade, and a desk littered with folders and pieces of paper. On top of it all rested a brown leather journal that looked like it had been used for years. Shoes were lined up in a row against one wall, and his closet doors were slightly open. Inside, I could see copious amounts of black clothing, and many pairs of the same jeans. I almost chuckled but stopped myself. Next to his bed, there was a nightstand I found peculiar. It was made to look like it consisted of books stacked one on top of the other in a crooked manner. On top was a lamp and a water bottle, as well as a book laid flat with the spine up and pages spread out. On the other side, there was a record player.

Somehow, all the pieces of his room seemed to fit him perfectly and suddenly, I felt like I understood him more.

We sat on the edge of his bed together and he was still holding the ice pack against his eye. I sat facing him and he sighed for what felt like the twentieth time since we arrived at his house.

"Remember when you and I met for the first time, and my nose was bleeding?" It was so sudden, the way he said that, and I was a little startled.

"Yeah, of course I do."

"And when you asked me where I lived, I didn't want to tell you?"

"I remember, Big Bird."

The corners of his mouth twitched up.

"I didn't want to tell you because I didn't want to go home. My dad had just had an episode and punched me in the nose, threatening to kill me. I went to the liquor store and bought a bottle and drank it all because I didn't know what else to do. If you hadn't picked me up, I don't know where I would've gone."

I was speechless. I couldn't imagine what would've happened if I had decided to take a different shift for work, or if I had actually stopped for gas.

"That's why I trust you so much to take care of me. I think anyone else would have just left me there, assuming I was on my way to another party or that I was just another drunk person. I'm glad I met you, Emma. You have no idea how glad."

I just sat there with my legs crossed, processing what he was telling me.

"Why does he do that to you?" I asked him, my thumb pressing lightly on the cut on his lip.

"He's angry because my mum left him."

"Why didn't you go with your mom?"

"She took my sister with her. She wanted me too, but she couldn't support both of us. So I had to stay here. I didn't know that he would be like this, though. He's scared that I'll leave him too. When he drinks, he gets paranoid, and if I'm not home, he freaks out. I'm just happy I was the one to stay with him instead of my sister. If he treated her like this, I wouldn't ever be able to handle it."

"Does your mom know?"

"No. I don't want to tell her. She's still working hard to make ends meet and I don't want to burden her. Besides, I'll be alright."

I shook my head. "Harry, you shouldn't have to-"

"I do. Emma, I'm okay. I have you now."

"How do you know I'll be enough?"

"Because you said you'd take care of me and you trust me the same way I trust you. That's more than enough."