WE SIT NEXT to each other on top of the tree and look down upon the fairyland we had discovered once we landed foot in New York. Now this is not just an imaginary place where fairies live. But I once opened up Macmillan Dictionary and found that fairy land, as a singular noun, can also mean a place that has a special and exciting quality. Like a beauty spot, a gem, a work of art in this huge, wondrous city.

Of course, our first landing in New York wasn't all about finding a common secret place that we could come to either individually or together to seek some peace of mind away from the city. No, we like to have fun, too. We've dug out the best nightclubs and bars in the whole city so we can have a drink or ten. Although that doesn't mean we're crazy and completely off the ceiling all the time, we can also appreciate a bit of down time to relax.

Well, it was always my idea to have a break from parties and general staying-out-late and whatnot. But Harry eventually caught onto it out of habit and, well, it officially became a thing. Since High School back in London, actually. I had showed him my own version of the Kissing Rock, and he just simply caught onto it.

And it stings me. That I'm okay with this. I'm okay with having just Harry with me, but I'm really not sure I can survive that way. I had thought that Harry's friendship would at least, if anything, gain me some admirers. Someone who's intrigued, maybe. Anything.

But no, the exact opposite had backfired in my face, and for a moment, I thought it was okay, that it was enough. To have Harry as the older brother I never had somehow given me some self-confidence. I couldn't have asked for a better partner like him, a brother figure in my life.

But as everything else in my life, it backfired. Males of all sorts feared me. Yes, feared. Harry got a bit protective and made a point to talk me out of relationships that he later on proved to be worthless. And he was right, he's always right about the guys I date. I guess that's why he's not too keen with me dressed in fabric too short or too tight or too revealing; it attracts the wrong kind of people, I guess.

"What?" He nudges me, causing me to tear my eyes away from the beautiful view of greens and flowers, and snap my head at him. He frowns and says, "What are you thinking about?"

"My lonely ass life," I chuckle, joking it off.

He raises his eyebrows. "Care to elaborate?"

I purse my lips and give those jades of his a good look before I let out a sigh and turn back to the beautiful sight of the purple flowers, holding tight onto the tree branch. "My love life."

"What about it?"

"What about it, Harry? It's nonexistent." I blow air out of my mouth.

"Your love life." He repeats.

I turn to glare at him. "Yes, my love l- Why are you grinning like that?"

"It's just," Harry waves his hands in the air expressively, his dimples popping, mocking me. "You never talk about your love life."

"I am now." I snap and watch him watch me, his grin slowly disappearing, realizing I'm not laughing with him.

"You're serious," He catches on and raises his eyebrows. I huff and look away, folding my arms. "You're actually serious about this."

"I don't know if you expect an answer to that because I can't possibly make it any clearer,"

"Okay, so," Harry narrows his eyes at me. "Why is this coming up? No, question is," he pauses for a dramatic effect, "why is this coming up now?"

"I don't know," I answer honestly.

"You don't know." He repeats me.

"Would you stop with the psychological treatment and repeating every word I say, please? Thanks."

Harry sighs and leans backward. "You have anyone in mind?"

I snap my head back at him. "Like a crush?" I nibble on my bottom lip, Harry rolls his eyes and doesn't answer so I say, "No. That's the scary thing about it."

"Oh, for fuck's sake," he huffs. "This is the greatest thing anybody could ask for. No crush and no shit, you should be free as a bird. That's liberty, baby!"

I frown and look away, back into the distance and the flowers and trees and nature. "But, like... Won't I ever be with someone? I just.. I dunno. Forget I said anything."

"You're turning emotional on me now, aren't you?" Harry laughs. "You feel like you'll be hashtag forever alone?"

I glare at him and sock him harshly in the ribs. He raises his hands in surrender.

"Not making fun of you. That's just a dumb way to look at things, Fiorella," he says and I'm about to punch his row of teeth in before he adds, "You're too fucking beautiful for someone in this world, love."

Mid-eye-roll, Harry shakes his head with a now serious look on his face. It makes me freeze, it makes my ears perk higher. His set jawline and straight eyebrows make an incredible collection with his blazing emeralds to form a serious Harry. It draws my attention. Every freaking time.

"No, really. Of all the people I know, I have never met a man that is worthy of you. Seriously, why do you think I haven't tried to hit on you after I got to know you?"

I chuckle and raise my eyebrows. "Because I'll smash your face in the next second?"

"Smartass," he pokes my temple. "Because I'm an asshole. I couldn't possibly deserve to have you."

"You are an asshole," I grinned teasingly but then shook my head. "Thanks, Harry. That's very sweet of you and all...but I don't really know about that."

My best friend parts his lips to speak but I frown and cut him off. "No, stop. Everyone who ever thought of getting close to me was because of my looks and my ass. Nobody stopped and said, she's smart, or she's funny and things like things. And the fuckboys never stay, so they don't count."

"I say all of these things," Harry says. "You are really smart and incredibly funny, why do you think I hang around you a lot?" He grins then nods, "Don't wait for anyone to tell you that."

I smile appreciatively at him. "Yeah, you do tell me that. But you're my best friend, you actually got to know me, you know?"

"Fiorella, come on," he wrapped his arm around my shoulders and I leaned into him with a sigh. "Don't do this, okay? I don't know what girly shit I should say right now. Maybe the right guy will come at the right time?"

"Yeah, maybe," I sat up right and looked at Harry, whose arm had fallen off. "Thanks, Harry."

"Race me to that pink flowers' tree?"

"You're on!"

But I wasn't done thinking about it. I will never be done thinking about it.

And I can't really tell Harry that he's one of the reasons guys at work or guys who generally know my friendship with him think twice about approaching me. He's such a kind guy, and very patient with me, if I may say so myself.

But if that's the case, am I really gonna be forever alone?