I've been finding myself in the same position every day after school for the last three days, sitting on Carter's bean bag chair in the corner of his room while he played video games and yelled at the screen. I made him promise not to ask. I didn't want to talk about it. And he's been good with keeping the promise for me, just allowing me to sit in his room so that silence doesn't overwhelm me.

It shouldn't have surprised me that Harry didn't show up to work on Sunday, but it did. Saturday's shift after Kate left wasn't exactly what I would call a fun time. And so I had to work eight hours with a pale faced sick Tenley who had zero spunk like she normally had, making the entire weekend seem far too long altogether.

I've been staring at my phone for the last three days, as if watching the screen would make a reply come through. But it didn't. And every hour that passed almost drove me to insanity. I don't know why I wanted to talk to Boy_Undiscovered so bad, but maybe it was the lack of unexpected replies that made me want to talk to him even more. We both hadn't posted a blog post in a week, and not seeing his words on the screen at all, left me feeling lonelier than I already felt. And every other time we had had a small chat, replies always came through almost right away, making this silence kind of a mindfuck to me.

Girl_Disconnected:
Hey...Are you busy?

Silence.

Girl_Disconnected:
Can you chat today?

Silence.

Girl_Disconnected:
I miss you.

Girl_Disconnected:
I mean, I miss your words. Not that I miss you.....I don't think.....Or maybe I do. Or don't.... Just reply to me please.

Silence.

A few small messages sent over the last few days without replies sit in front of me. The cursor on the bottom of my screen almost mocking me every time it flashes telling me to say something again. To ask why he wouldn't reply to me. Had I done or said something wrong?

No. 

If anything, the only place I don't mess up is on the internet. Sure, it's where the truths of me are set free, a mess all in itself. But despite it being the place I get to be legitimately me, faults written all over it, I hadn't messed up. Not with him.

And I can't understand why it is he won't reply to me. 

In my head, we have a great relationship; Purely platonic. We know each other better than anyone else, in a way that you'd only know someone through writing. Through reading someone's thoughts, you know exactly the kind of person they are. You are able to be inside of their head, even if it's just about one subject. With Boy_Undiscovered, I didn't have to know him in person to know that his heart is bigger than anyone's I'd ever met. The way he feels. Love. Heartbreak. His emotions are clear as day in his words and more importantly, reading those emotions and knowing he gets me, is more than anything I could've asked for to find.

And not being able to read his words made me realize how much I miss him. It's why I messaged him in the first place. Part of me had the need to know how he was doing after what he wrote in his last post. I wanted to make sure he was alright.

His silence has started to make me think that maybe he isn't okay. That somehow, like me, he doesn't want to talk to anyone when something is wrong, tearing himself from the world and living in his own bubble until he feels like it's okay to venture out of it.

And in this moment of speculation I let out a long sigh, closing the conversation. I know that I won't get an answer, no matter how badly I want one and I have to get my mind off of it.

As if on cue, my mind goes back to Harry as it has over the last few days when I gave up on waiting for a reply from Boy_Undiscovered. Nothing hurts more than thoughts of him do. 

To: Harry
>>Come over.

I hit the send button before I even realize what I've done. My subconscious and fingertips seemingly telling me that I want to see him. My heart starts pound as I stare at my phone wondering if what I've just done is right or wrong. Either way, I can't take it back now, and I'm unsure how I feel about it.

Until my phone dings with a reply.

From: Harry
>>Okay. Be there in a few.

I stand up from the bean bag chair quickly, making Carter look at me surprised.

"I —uh, gotta go," I say, panicked, moving across the room to the window.

"Everything okay?" he asks, pausing his game and standing from his bed.

"Uh, yeah—" I say, turning back to him. "I think so. Um—I'll see you later."

His quick response made me nervous. He didn't ask why or say anything that would've made me think he was surprised I asked him to come over like I probably would have if he was the one to have sent that text to me. And with the way things have been going this week, I'm more than certain he knows this is a booty call. 

Sure, I've been needing an escape. And I had already decided that this is how I'm going to remind him of the feelings he once had for me, whether he says they were real or not. Sex was the way we came together. It was who we were. Clearly without it, we were a string of arguments, the knots that bound us together, untied, making us so much farther away from each other than I had ever hoped for.

I'm ready to tie those knots again, even though the entirety of me is shaking as I pace my room. My heart is pounding, my breathing unsteady, unsure of what's about to happen. The last time he fucked me, there was no feeling. There was no emotion. And the thought of this happening again made me even more nervous for the upcoming hook up we're about to have. I know that I don't want to feel that way again. The distance it created between us. I don't think I could handle it.

Before another anxious thought could course through me, I turn to see that Harry is climbing through the open window. He stands as his eyes meet mine, neither of us moving from our respective places across the room.

This moment feels like minutes passing. The sound of my heart thumping in my ears as I stare back at him. His hair is pushed back out of his face, his white t-shirt almost see-through, his tattoos showing through the thin material. He looks as good as he always does, and when he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, my feet start to move across the room.

He meets me in the middle, pressing his lips to mine with force the second our bodies meet. Everything in me fills up with the sense of relief. The anxiety I had been feeling moments ago completely dispersed. Relishing in the way his tongue moves with mine, I am lost in all things him. So lost that when the back of my legs hit the side of my bed, I don't know how we got here. I don't remember my legs moving.

He lifts my shirt up over my head, our lips meeting feverishly once the cloth removed. He doesn't wait for me to tear his shirt from him, doing it himself in one swift motion. How quick he is to undo my bra, letting it fall to the floor, as we both tear off our own pants.

Letting our naked bodies fall to the bed, his lips meet mine again. The smoothness of his skin underneath my palms is only part of what I've missed about this. He leans down my body, pressing his lips to my stomach, igniting me on fire, the goosebumps under his touch start to rise.

It feels as if everything is the way it was before. The way he kisses me and touches me and the way my body responds to him with ease. The familiarity in it all is comfortable and the fear that things would be like last time is thrown out the door.

It's when his lips move up my body and he rests his weight upon me as his eyes meet mine, that I realize his intentions are purely physical. His eyes flick back and forth between mine a few times, but I feel as though he's looking right through me.

He rolls us over, so he is laying underneath me, his lips meeting mine in the process as I straddle him. He aligns himself with me and pushes me down around him, both of us letting out small moans with the contact.

He holds onto my hips, forcing my body upwards so I am sitting on him. And as I move my body up and down on him, my hands rested on his bare chest, he closes his eyes. He is laid out in complete pleasure, his mouth slightly open as I my hips move slowly.

He has left me in complete control, unlike the last time, giving me full advantage of how I want to work this situation. And usually I would enjoy this advance, but seeing his eyes closed and not feeling his hands on me, the detachment is unlike anything I have ever felt.

Unable to revel in how he feels inside of me, I quickly try to figure out in my head how I'm going to change this, continuing my movements so he can't tell that this isn't working for me. I don't want it to be this way. I don't want sex without feelings. I want it to be the way it used to be. And as many times as we have had sex and said there was no feelings involved, it's clear that was always a lie.

Because what I am undergoing right now, what I experienced with him in the office, is exactly what sex without feelings is. Nothing before then was. He can tell me as many times as he wants that he felt nothing for me before, and I will know with every fiber of my being, that somewhere inside of him, he has felt something for me.

When I asked for sex without feelings, I was asking for what we had before, not realizing that it would be this way. And I know that this is all my fault. That I have messed up everything on my own accord, but when you think that you've been getting sex without feelings all along, and then getting it for real, it comes to more of a shock than even I can understand.

And so, without another thought, without allowing for any more negativity to course through me, I stop moving my hips and look at him. I take his hands in mine gently, lacing our fingers together and pull him to sit up with me. He still has his eyes closed, his breathing is slightly off and his mouth still slightly hangs open.

"Look at me," I whisper, as I place one of his hands on my breast. I watch as he slowly opens his eyes to look at me, eyes flicking back and forth between mine. "I want you to see me."

I lean forward, pressing my lips to his gently. His slightly open mouth allows for me to enter my tongue with ease, moving it with his slowly. I know that for him to see that I want this to be the way it used to be, that I have to take this slowly. I need to give him some time to remember who we were together and acknowledge why I'm doing this.

Our eyes meet once more and for the first time in what feels like eternity, I can tell that he is really looking at me. That the passion in my kiss opened his eyes. "You want an escape," he says. "You just want to forget shit." The look on his face changes, and his now furrowed brows make my insides panic. 

"No," I answer, running my hand through his curls, not wanting for him to see the fear coursing through me. "All I want to see—is you."

"No escape?" he asks, his eyebrows moving upwards in disbelief.

"You are my escape, Harry," I say quietly. "I don't want to see the stars. I just want to lose myself in you the way I did before."

"The way you did before?"

"Just like before."

His eyes search mine, as if he's looking for all the answers, and for the first time, all I can hope for is that he will find them. That he will see into my soul and see everything that I can't say.

And without another word, he crashes his lips with mine with electrified force. His one hand that was on my breast, squeezes as he releases his other hand from mine, wrapping it around to my back and running it down my spine.

And this. This is what I missed. This is what I have been longing for. How easy it is for him to make me feel like I'm his world in a matter of seconds and a few sensual touches. I start to move my hips, as he kisses down my jaw to my neck, tilting my head for him to get the spot he knows I love the most just under my ear. He squeezes my breasts, starting to kiss down my chest, a few small moans escaping my mouth.

His touch and my slow movements up and down his cock leave me in a state of euphoria. How soft his skin feels under my finger tips, his lips silky against my skin, the warmth in his close contact, making my cheeks heat up and my breathing to become heavy.

The sound of his moans fills my ears, igniting every single one of my senses. I can't get enough of him. He doesn't feel close enough. And even when he rolls our bodies over so he is laying on top of me, wrapping my legs around his bum, he still feels too far away.

Until he looks me in the eyes, and his hips move with just the right pressure, hitting just the right spot every time he thrusts his dick into me. The way he gently touches his lips to mine, his breath fanning my face, his eyes connected to mine, I feel like we have never been in tune with each other the way we are now.

Moving our bodies together, my fingers clasped into his curls, everything about this moment is more than I ever could have imagined, more than I had wished for. How everything feels so much like it did before, but it's clear that it's different. And maybe it's because I know I love this boy on top of me, maybe it's because there's a chance he feels the same. Either way, he knows that he is my escape. He knows that all I want is to see him.

Just like before.

And with his eyes still set on me,  he pulls my bottom lip between his teeth, his thrusting getting harder, fingers digging deeper into my hip, I listen to him let out his last groans at he reaches his end, the sound is music to my ears. 

His sweaty body falls on me, and I can feel his heartbeat racing in his chest. I never want this moment to end, feeling that somehow this has just brought us back together the way I needed for it to.

He lets out a puff of air, as he leans up to look at me. His hair hanging in his face. He will forever be the most beautiful human being I will ever lay my eyes upon, and no one will ever have my heart the way he does.

I smile up at him before he leans down to kiss me. And before I'm ready to move, I can tell that he is about to get off of me.

"Ready to make a run for it to the bathroom?" he smiles.

"No," I laugh. "But if I must."

He gives me one last kiss before he pulls out of me, and I am squirming to the bathroom and shutting the door. Sitting on the toilet, I can't help the smile on my face. It was perfect. He was perfect. I want more than anything to relive what we just did. I want to lay with him and snuggle and look him in the eyes and tell him how I feel.

I want for us to be real. To end this crazy madness that we've become. I know that we have both messed up on so many occasions, but I'm ready for him to know that I love him. Because I have never been more sure about anything. No matter how many time he has hurt me, loving him, I am certain of.

And maybe if he just knows how I feel, everything can be better. I didn't want him to know, but with how everything just came together the way it did, telling him right now would be the icing on this most amazing afternoon.

Opening the bathroom door, wanting to see him still laying in my bed, I am shocked when I see that the bed is empty. My bedroom is left with nothing but messy sheets and my clothes strewn about the floor.

Pulling my shirt over my head, I run over to the window to see Harry running into the woods, taking my heart with him. Taking all the hope I had for us, and ripping it out of my chest.

And as suddenly as he disappears into the trees, I realize that everything happens for a reason. I was about to give him my heart with words, and that would have been the biggest mistake I would have ever made, seeing how quickly he was able to run even before the truth had a chance to break through. 

A/N: Thanks so much for 58.7K Reads!

Hope you are still enjoying the book, despite how messy things still are with them. 

Much Love,
amberlove
xo