If You Told Me To

They hadn’t spoken in two days. Sarah felt awful, sitting in her house alone, sweating to death and replaying the scene in her head again and again, hating herself more each run-through. More than anything, she wanted to throw her arms around him and apologize that her question had hurt his feelings, but she was too afraid to go next door and actually put her dreams into action. What if he rejected her? What if he slammed the door in her face? What if he cried?

Sarah bit her lip and hugged the pillow in her lap closer to her chest. She squeezed her eyes shut, like trying to hold back tears, but she knew she had none left; between her near-constant crying (only stopping when she was around Jake) and sweating, there was no way her body had any moisture left.

She took a deep breath and shook her head. “Stop being a baby,” she scolded herself. “You’re not a kid anymore. If you want Harry to know you’re sorry, then you need to get off your ass and tell him so yourself.” She blushed when she realized she’d said a swearword, but if it slipped out of her mouth, then she must have meant it. So she got to her feet and wiped her eyes, thankful that she’d abandoned wearing makeup during her mourning period, and threw the pillow behind her onto the armchair.

“Really,” she continued, locating her tennis shoes and pulling them onto her feet, “the worst that can happen is that he tells you he doesn’t want to see you again. And then you can just move on with your life. He’s not worth this. No guy is.”

She started to feel a little empowered, a look of determination settling on her face as adrenaline started pumping through her veins. Just the thought of seeing Harry again in any form was enough to make her palms sweat and her stomach flood with butterflies. But she couldn’t chicken out, she knew; if she wanted to get back on good terms with him, there was only one way to start it.

Before she could think about it enough to change her mind, she walked outside, the temperature barely different from that inside her house, and walked the five yards that separated the two houses. She walked up on the stoop and knocked three times, hard, on the door, breathing deeply to keep her nerve.

When the door opened, Sarah’s mouth immediately opened, ready to pour out a heartfelt apology all over Harry, already starting with, “Please don’t hate-”

“Sarah!” a confused voice that definitely did not belong to Harry greeted. “How are you, honey?”

“I’m alright, thanks,” Sarah responded with a tight grin on her face. She hoped Antonia didn’t notice the bright red flush of embarrassment that was starting to overtake her face. “Um, is Harry here?”

“Of course he is.” Antonia stepped to the side so Sarah could enter the house. Almost immediately, Harry's aunt draped an arm around Sarah's shoulders, leading her down a hallway she'd never entered before. “You know, I was thinking, maybe you and your father could come to dinner tomorrow night. I got some fresh vegetables at the farmer’s market in town yesterday, and Harry helped me find some incredible recipes online. I’d love for you to come over and tell me what you think!”

“That sounds wonderful, ma’am,” Sarah told her, a true smile spreading across her features. “I’ll be sure to ask him tonight.”

She gave the blonde teenager one last squeeze before pulling her arm away and opening Harry’s bedroom door. “Harry, you have a visitor!”

Harry was perched on his made bed with no shirt, typing away furiously on the laptop on his legs. When he looked up and saw Sarah standing there, he instantly threw his computer down and ran to his dresser to search for something to put on.

After thanking Antonia, Sarah stepped into Harry’s bedroom, keeping the door open behind her. “You don’t have to do that,” she told him, watching as he rummaged through a drawer, as if looking for something in particular. “It’s not like I haven’t seen you shirtless before.”

“That was while swimming,” he muttered. “I’ve seen you in your bra and underwear, but you don’t exactly prance around like that, do you?”

Sarah turned bright red and glanced at the door, where the hallway looked oh-so-inviting. “Harry, look, I’m sorry about what I said. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, and I didn’t mean to insult you. Just…” She wiped the sweat off her forehead and let out a shaky breath. “I’ve never had a guy interested in me before, and so it’s just weird that you like me. That’s all. It says more about me than it does about you.”

Harry shook his head and ran a hand through his thick, curly hair. “No, I’m sorry for overreacting.” He finally found the shirt he was looking for and pulled it over his head, popping his head through first, and then punching his arms through the sleeves. “Can I be honest with you for a second without you freaking out?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Harry side-stepped by her to shut the door, which made Sarah tense with unease, before he sat on his bed and pulled her down next to him. “Look, normally, what you said wouldn’t have been that bad. But at my school, I have kind of a…um…a reputation, I guess.”

Sarah felt her stomach sink. “A reputation,” she repeated.

“I already told you I’m a virgin, right? That’s still true. But, um, everyone at my school kind of thinks that I go through girls like most people go through underwear.”

“Why do they think that?” Her voice was a whisper, and she wondered briefly if Antonia was going to get suspicious from the lack of audible voices inside the room.

“Because, um…” Sarah had never seen Harry so uncomfortable, with wringing hands and short breaths. “Because I kind of party a lot back home. And I might be a virgin, but I’ve kissed more girls than I can count.”

Sarah didn’t know who she was seeing. He still looked like Harry and smelled like Harry, still had that innocent yet mischievous look in his eyes, but she didn’t really know him at all. “So you spend your weekends making out with girls.”

“And drinking,” he elaborated. “Look, Sarah, it’s just for fun. I come from a boring town, and that’s all there is to do. Those girls really don’t mean anything. All I do is make-out with them, and then I move on.”

Sarah swallowed to keep from screaming.

“But when I came here, I didn’t think that reputation would follow me. I met you, with how sweet and pure you are, and I didn’t want you to know that. So when you accused me of settling for you because you were the only girl for miles around, it kind of registered that you could tell what I had been like back home, and it freaked me out. But I’m not angry anymore or anything. I just didn’t come over to say I was sorry because I figured you didn’t want to talk to me anymore after how I lost my temper like that.”

He may have apologized, but Sarah was having trouble registering anything he said, no matter how nice it was. She couldn’t stop picturing him all over other girls, kissing them in places that strayed from their lips, taking their clothes off, and she couldn’t keep herself from hyperventilating. She consciously knew that it shouldn’t have mattered because he didn’t know her and he had a right to live his life however he wanted to. But she still felt like he’d been lying to her since the beginning of the summer and she didn’t really know him at all.

“You look like you’re going to puke,” Harry told her, putting his hand over hers. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t want you to know, but I figured I wouldn’t make any sense to you unless I explained.”

Sarah still couldn’t get her voice to work. She wanted to say that it was okay, but she didn’t really mean it. She wasn’t really sure where to go from there. She thought Harry was almost as innocent as she was, almost as naïve, like they were figuring out the whole romance thing together. But he was so much more experienced, and he probably thought she was a fool. Maybe she was a fool. She felt like one, anyway.

“I’m not going to puke,” she said finally, taking a deep breath. “But I’m not exactly sure what this all means. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m not exactly sure who you are anymore.”

“I’m still the same person,” he implored. “I swear, I am. What I do at home in my spare time doesn’t change my personality or who I’ve been since I got here. Please don’t let this ruin everything.”

She gave him a small, sad smile. “I’m going to head back,” she told him, standing up and tucking in her pockets so they didn’t stick out. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”

“You’re mad.”

“I’m not mad. I’m just… I have to think this over. Come over when you wake up.”

As she stepped out into the hallway, closing the door behind her quietly, she could hear Harry heave a massive sigh. She felt awful that she was torturing him, not giving him an answer straight away, but she would be lying if she said his secret wasn’t a potential game-changer.