Three days. It had been three fucking days since she walked out on him.

Not wanting to cross an unspoken boundary, Harry waited until the first evening before calling. It went to voicemail; twice. After that, she declined his calls. Texting seemed childish, but when she wouldn't answer, he sent messages, eventually blowing up her phone with apologies and imploring her to talk to him.

He wore his regret like a hair shirt. Nothing felt right; he was constantly uncomfortable and lonely. Harry generally enjoyed his own company, but he was a social creature who frequently sought the companionship of others. Madelyn's absence had taken the color from his days, and not even the company of Murphy and Becca had been able to cheer him.

He poured himself into the final set-up at Next. Murphy's idea to have Noah working with Harry had been golden. The guy was nothing short of amazing! Noah was incredibly strong, with a work ethic that matched his ability to problem solve. He had been in the background when Kate turned up like a bad penny. Later, as Madelyn stormed out of the restaurant, Harry following in her wake, it hadn't taken him a second to put two and two together.

Patrick was hanging out with Noah that same day, as he unpacked tables and chairs. When he asked what Noah thought had gotten the professor all fired up, Noah quickly shot him a silencing glare. Murphy, Becca, and Harry had collectively treated Noah well and he didn't want to jeopardize their goodwill by speaking out of turn. Later that night, when Patrick pushed again, he included Katelyn in his line of questions.

"Why so curious? Not like any of Harry's drama affects you."

"That girl is trouble, No."

"Yeah, pretty sure I caught that memo. She isn't the type to take disappointment with what you'd call 'grace.'" Noah's chest rumbled with humor as he recalled the look on Katelyn's face when he glimpsed her stomping down Harry's back staircase at Etta's recently.

Patrick inclined on his arm and held the other man's eyes. "All I'm saying is, if your friend is involved with her, do him a favor and warn him. Her brother used to boost cars and I've heard she wasn't one to turn down any of the goodies he lifted. Downright proud of it when we were back in high school. Never hesitated to take what she wanted, that one. She was a bitch, through and through."

"Jesus, this is a small, fucking town," Noah grumbled as he got out of bed.

He rolled his shoulders to release the tension, bulky muscles rippling under his smooth, chestnut skin. He had never been interested in other people's personal business. Harry was a good guy to work for; maybe he was even a friend. Noah wasn't going to fuck things up with gossip about a girl the man had already sent packing.

Perhaps surprisingly, Katelyn was the least of Harry's concerns as he stood in the corridors of the business building on campus. The window above the wooden door was dark. He couldn't take any more radio silence and as his third day in exile began to diminish, Harry had come to confront Madelyn. Slamming his palm against her unanswered her office door, he cursed. It had been established that the woman heightened his emotions; she also brought out his temper.

"May I help you, Mr. Styles?" a somewhat annoyed voice with a nasal quality inquired pointedly.

Harry looked to his left to see a much older woman standing outside of another office door. Shit.

"I apologize Dr. Schmidt. I was looking for Ma... Professor Conroy. Any chance you've seen her?"

The soft, grey hair and somewhat maternal dress were countered by steeled posture and clear eyes that were sharp enough to pierce the flesh of an adversary possessing a lesser intellect.

"Office hours have recently ended. Did you have an appointment?"

"Not exactly, it isn't like that..."

"No, I suppose it isn't," Dr. Schmidt sighed knowingly and stepped further into the corridor. "You're a smart young man, Harry, but you've chosen a difficult task."

"Uh.. She's not..."

"Stop right there. Do I look like I was born yesterday and achieved my status by being an ignorant ninny?"

"No?"

"Absolutely not; you know better than that. This is a department full of blowhards that chew through the slightest scandal like a rare fillet. Most of them enjoy the sound of their own voices so well, that they forget to listen to anyone but themselves."

"Of course, Dr., I simply meant to say that Professor Conroy is not a 'task' to me."

"Excellent, I stand corrected. Still, I'm going to offer you some advice, Harry."

He adjusted the leather strap of the bag over his shoulder, then turned his hands palms out at his sides. "I'll take all the help I can get."

"Good. It took me 25 years and a doctorate to get to where your professor is right this minute and another 15 to get to where I am now. That woman is a force. She has a mental and emotional fortitude that challenges, even threatens, some people. If she has walls up, they have been necessary."

"I can appreciate that, Dr. Schmidt. I've upset her and she isn't speaking to me." Harry's shoulders slumped dejectedly. "Maybe she needs more time to cool off and I should be more patient? I guess three days isn't that long."

"Three days?" The professor's brows shot toward her hairline.

"Yeah."

"Harry, you are an excellent student and we all have high hopes for you, but this time you have failed miserably."

"What else am I supposed to do? I've tried to call and text, now I'm here. She won't respond," the frustration in his voice was palpable.

"Men!" she frowned, shaking her head in disappointment. "You called, you messaged, you came to her office at the end of the day when she almost certainly would not be here. If you want victory, go fight for her. Take the battle to her door and demand to have your say. Madelyn Conroy is not the type of woman to pussyfoot about when there is something or someone she wants. Do you think she has time for a man who does?"

Harry stared. He had taken multiple graduate classes from this woman and had never seen her passionate about anything other than applied data analytics.

"The longer it takes you to set your issues to rights, the more likely it is that she begins wondering if you don't care for her enough to find a resolution. So. Time to man up."

Turning on her heel, Dr. Schmidt stepped into her office and shut the door firmly behind her.

Several moments passed as Harry took several deep breaths. Shaking his head clear he realized he had just been schooled in a very different way.

The walk across campus gave him time to think. As his plan percolated, he grew anxious to get on with it. Getting through his short shift behind the bar at Etta's that night would be a challenge. Dr. Schmidt was right. He had been too patient and reserved in his approach. It had never been his way to hang back, waiting for things to happen. Why had he been behaving in complete contrast to his normal approach? Madelyn had thrown him into a tailspin and enough was enough. Harry couldn't allow more time to pass while he played passive and she reconstructed her walls. He loved her, she loved him. He was going to take responsibility for not being more upfront and shielding her from the intensity of Katelyn's infatuation. After that, they were putting this behind them.

He didn't bother going upstairs to his apartment to change out of his white t-shirt and jeans when he got to Next. Instead, Harry threw his bag in the back of the jeep, cranked YES, Owner of a Lonely Heart, on the stereo and drove straight to Etta's. He was ready to put his head down and get the shift behind him.

"Harry! Take a break. Noah's going to cover for you. We need to talk," Murphy motioned Harry away from the bar just an hour after he'd started working.

Wiping his hands on the bar rag, Harry followed Murphy into the kitchen.

"What's up, Murph."

"I think it's time for you to call it a night, Harry."

"Look, I know I'm a little off tonight, but it's busy and I don't want to leave you in the lurch."

"I just comped a drink because the order was wrong. The drink is nothing. But you don't usually make mistakes. It's obvious that you're miserable and I just got a call from Becca."

"Fuck. I apologize, Murphy," he pinched his nose and slid his fingers through his hair. "Why is Becca calling?"

"She's at Madelyn's," Murphy shoved his hands deep into his pockets. "I guess the plan was to have a night in, with wine and a couple of girlfriends."

"Oh," Harry felt his plans for redemption slipping away.

"Becca says she's been crying. You made her cry, Harry. And now I have Becca on my case, so get your ass out of here and go fix your mess. Now."

***

Author's Note:

Thank you for all of the lovely messages on the author's note I posted recently. Your sentiments have made me feel incredibly supported. I love reading your comments and I smile every time my notifications alert me that someone has voted for DELIVERY. Tapping that little star lets me know you are enjoying the story.
Best, Dirty/Em

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