My eyes snap open, the darkness cut only by the glow of my alarm clock. My heart thunders in my chest, anxiety twisting my stomach. My lungs contract and expand, begging for air. Begging him to stay. I shift a little, and feel his arm looped over my side, cupping my breast. His other arm is draped under my pillow, encaging me. How has my racing heart not awakened him? I fell asleep begging him to stay with me. And he did, I remember that. I remember him crawling on his knees to my side, and wrapping his not tattooed arm over me. I remember begging him never to leave me. The gallons of blood pumping from my over active heart all rush to my face. I need you. I love you. Please, please, please tell me I didn't say that out loud.

I try to loosen myself from his grasp, but he tightens his hold on me, squeezing my breast gently. "Stay," he mumbles. This is not a time for mockery, Styles. I shift again, and he buries his hand under my ribs, pinning me to the bed. "Stay with me."

"Don't mock me," I say, my voice like ice, my heart like ice.

He releases me to sit up, rubbing his eyes. I swing my legs off the bed and click on the lamp, my back to him. I stare at my feet, my legs too short to reach the ground, even though I'm taller than average. His hands grip my hips and pull me backwards toward him, turning me to lay on my back. "I want you to stay with me. I'm not mocking you, Maddie. I...I wouldn't." He leans down and kisses me. But I am frozen. Frigid. Jonas called me that once when he tried to kiss me, and I pushed his face away. I have vague memories of puking all over his lap. "I don't understand what's happening right now," Harry runs his hands through his hair. I just stare. I feel broken, and I don't know why. I don't know why I feel so fucking lost and frightened right now. Okay, yes I do know. Because I told you I love you, I think, and I have no idea how you feel about me and fuck. He lays down on his side next to me, running his hand over my hair now instead of his own. "Maddie, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pushed you last night. I thought... I thought you would like it." I did. I did like it.

Madelyn, I can almost hear Dr. Kline. Let your guard down. Be yourself. Your true self.

"I did like it," I say, breaking through the wall of ice between us. "It's not that. It's not you. It's me."

His hand stills on my head, and his voice deepens, yet somehow gets quieter, too. "Are you breaking up with me?"

"What? No!" How can he think that? Maybe I didn't tell him I love him. Maybe I should. I shake my head. "Why would you say that? I literally begged you to stay with me instead of take a shower last night." That's how desperate I am.

"You said that 'it's not you, it's me' shit people always say. What's going on, Maddie? Tell me, please." I finally make eye contact with him, tears slipping from the corners of mine and rolling down into my ears and hair.

"Harry, you just don't understand how messed up I am." My voice catches, allowing a sob to escape. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I cover my face, and try to talk through my hands, but I'm crying so hard now that I wouldn't make sense even if he could hear me.

He loops his tattooed arm back under my head and pulls me closer with his other arm so that my face is buried in his chest. "Baby, oh god, Maddie, I... You have no idea how beautiful you are to me."

His arms are begging me to stay with him. His words are begging me to stay. Listen.

"I need tissue," I sniffle weakly. He reaches for the box behind him and hands me a huge clump. Way too much. Like half the fucking box. I laugh. He breathes out a heavy sigh. I wipe my face. God there's fucking snot everywhere. I wipe some off his chest. God, why the fuck did you invent snot? "I'm not as crazy as I seem."

"Two minutes ago you were telling me you were more crazy." Now he is mocking me. I think.

"Last night was amazing. It's just... I have never felt so exposed, so vulnerable in my life." And now my mouth is like a faucet someone turned on, walked away from, and forgot about. "Not just because of the physical stuff. But because of all these fucking emotions. I'm trying so hard to be the real me buried underneath all this shit from my past, but it's hard. It's so fucking hard. The way that I begged you to stay with me, telling you that I need you, that...was so hard. And right now I thought you were making fun of me."

He kisses the top of my head, then tips my head back. He runs his hand down the side of my face, tracing my lips with his thumb, so soft against my wet and swollen skin. "I need you, too. I really meant that I wanted you to stay," I'm nodding, wide-eyed. Well, why couldn't you just say so? He tried to say so, and you wouldn't fucking listen. Listen to the people you trust, the people who know you. "I've never felt this way before, Maddie. About anyone." Oh. I press my snot covered face to his, sliding my lips between his.

"I'm sorry," I say when his lips retract from mine, a string of saliva and snot stretched between us. "I'm sorry for freaking out and shutting down instead of listening to you."

He kisses my head again, chuckling. "You really should double your therapist's pay."

"I might," I smile against his warm flesh. "Thank you for staying. Last night and now."

"There's nowhere else I want to be." He kisses me again. "Now, can we go back to sleep?" I nod, and he reaches over my head to shut off the light. "Do you need anything?" I shake my head. He spreads his large hand across my back and slides it down to the hem of my shirt, then up the inside, pressing me closer to him. His hand is warm and soft and nearly reaches both sides of my back when splayed out, as it is now. He moves it slowly. Up and down. Up and down. I pace my breathing to match it, and before I know it, I've drifted off to sleep.

Waking up is easier the second time; I'm not afraid of what I've said or how I feel. Harry is stretched on his stomach, his arms under his pillow. I kiss his shoulder and get up. I swim for an hour, then shower. He sleeps so late. I am always up early. These are differences we can live with, I think. I call Sal's and ask him to send up some breakfast. He jokes that his delivery person is already here. I am too shocked to speak for a moment. "Yes, and he needs some sustenance, or he won't make it in to work today," I finally reply, keeping my tone light. Sal chuckles and says his daughter will bring it.

I'm unwrapping the many pastries, bagels and breakfast sandwiches I've ordered when Harry shuffles into the kitchen. "You left." It's almost an accusation.

"I get restless if I don't get up with the sun." I push his hair off his forehead. "Breakfast."

"Mmmm. Yes." He grabs me and carries me squealing back to the bedroom.

"Harry!"

"What?" He flops me onto the bed, climbing up around my legs to kiss me. "You said breakfast. This is all I want to taste right now." I roll my eyes at him.

"Cheesy."

"No, you taste like diet coke and... bacon." He tips his head to the side. "Mmmm. Did you get one of those bacon sandwiches from Sal's?"

"Um, I got a few of them." His eyes sparkle. "For sharing, obviously."

"Fine, let's eat."

And too soon, way too fucking soon, he has to leave me to go to work. "I'll stay, if you want me to," he says, pulling on his jeans.

"I always want you to stay." He gives me my slow spreading smile. "But I don't want you to miss work again."

While he's gone, I clean the house, stripping the snot-stained bedding and running it through the wash. I collect my and Harry's dirty clothes into a basket to wash next. I turn on the robot sweeper-vacuum and set it loose on my tile and hardwood floors, while I wipe down the surfaces in every room with a duster or wet-wipe. All this cleaning is really just a distraction. I have school work I need to do. I have a script to read through for this week's filming of Turning Pages. But I am too antsy to sit and think.

Finally, I put on my running shoes, pull my hair into a high ponytail, and strap my iPhone to my arm. I jog up the hill a little ways, until my legs start to burn. I mean, really fucking burn. It happens sooner than usual. It's been awhile since I've run; in fact, I can't remember exactly how long it's been. It was just after Harry and I kissed, a few days after. So, four weeks. I guess that's why my legs are fucking killing me less than a mile from my house. I turn and head back.

I was really hoping that a run could relieve some of the strange anxiety, restlessness, fitfulness that has settled over me since last night. Harry managed to calm me before I went back to sleep, but I'm still freaked out. And I can't fucking put my finger on it. When I get back into my house, I walk out to the back patio and sit by the pool. I decide to call Dr. Kline.

"I've been waiting for your call," she says right away.

"You have?"

"Of course." She. Why? No. "But you sound really good. Are you okay?"

I am not okay. Today is his birthday. And I fucking forgot. "No."

"What's going on?"

"I forgot," I breathe, so ashamed to admit it. "I fucking forgot."

"You weren't calling me for Matt's birthday," she says plainly. "What else is going on?"

"I don't know. I've been feeling weird all day, but maybe that's all it is." I can't believe I forgot his fucking birthday. Oh, Matty. I'm sorry.

"What's going on, Maddie."

"I think," I am shivering in the November breeze, despite the sun. "I think I might be falling in love. And I'm scared, and I forgot Matty's birthday." I wipe hot tears from my cheeks.

"That's okay, Maddie. It's okay to live your life."

"It doesn't feel okay."

"But it is. You know that Matt loved you." I'm nodding though she can't see me. "He always wanted to make you happy. Now, you have to allow yourself to be happy."

"If it makes me forget him, that doesn't make me happy."

"You haven't forgotten him, Maddie. You forgot what day it was. That's all. You have allowed yourself to experience more than just his loss, so you haven't been counting down the days."

"You're right." We sit in silence for several moments. Then I talk for an hour about what happened with Harry last night. "Being so vulnerable is hard. I don't like it."

"Yes, it is. But, Maddie when things are easy, you don't grow and you don't change. Think about your classes when you were younger."

"When they were too easy, I was bored and tuned out. The classes that held my attention were challenging. They pushed me to work beyond my capability."

"Exactly. We think of emotions as coming from the heart, but everything, all our feelings originate in our minds. We have to learn how to manage them. How to control them, which you've tried to master your whole life, and when to release them. You're getting there. Just keep at it."

"Harry told me to double your pay."

"I like this Harry."

I laugh. "Thanks, Dr. Kline." I hang up. I feel like I should be a blubbering mess. Like I should be curled up on the floor. But no, I shouldn't. I shouldn't have been that way for so long. This is right. This is better.

"Maddie?" I jump at the sound of Harry's voice. "Jesus, I've been calling your name for like five minutes. What are you doing out here?"

"I was talking to the shrink."

He pulls on my arm. "It's freezing out here. Come inside." He wears that look of concern I recognize from my many years of breakdowns and tantrums. Like I'm going to lose my shit. Like I already have. "I brought lunch," he adds.

When I'm halfway through my sandwich, I set it down and fold my hands on my knee. I wait until he swallows his mouthful of food. "Today would be my brother's 21st birthday." I see a flash of something in his expression, fear maybe, before he reaches that beloved arm toward me, resting his hand on mine. I consider how much to tell him. I've shared a lot with Harry. But not all of it. I don't know if either of us is up for that today. "I've been so happy, that I forgot what day it was. Usually, around this time of year, I am marking off the days in my mind. Thirty more days until his birthday. Five. Four. Three. This year, I didn't even notice it had arrived."

Poor Harry looks like he has no idea how to handle me. "And are you...are you okay?"

"Yes, I am." I really am. I think. "I'm happy. You make me really happy, Harry."

He shakes his head. "You make me so happy too, Maddie. I was scared right now that you were going to shut down on me again."

"I know. I saw it all over your face," I smile, and he beams back.

"I like your therapist a lot."

"Yeah, she likes you too. She was already expensive. Now that I'm doubling her pay... I might not be able to go in as often," I joke. I could afford to triple her pay and go every day.

"You might not need to." True. "I really don't want to leave you here. I'm gonna call Sal."

"No," I stop his hand. "I'm really okay, Harry. I have to call my mother, anyway."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"That's good. I'm sure she's a mess today."

I have to reassure him that I am fine a few more times before he finally leaves. Wow. I don't mean that the way it sounds. I never want him to leave. But I also don't want to be a tether that holds him back from living his life. And he needs to work--he hates when I pay for anything.

I call my mother. "Hey, Mom."

"Madelyn, I didn't know whether I would hear from you today."

"I know. I'm sorry that I haven't taken any of your calls."

"It's that boy, isn't it? That's why you haven't called."

"No, mom. It was you telling the world I lied, when you and I know he hung himself from that fucking tree. And then you hung me out to dry."

"I'm sorry for that. But I didn't say he didn't kill himself. I just said his death wasn't ruled a suicide."

"Please don't try to justify it now." I sigh, "how are you doing today?"

"I don't know." She sobs. I haven't seen her cry in six fucking years. Not that I'm seeing her now... "I thought I'd lost you, too."

Jesus. "You haven't lost me, mom. I lost me. But I'm finding her."

"That's good," she sniffs.

"Yeah, it is." The tears that have been pooling in my eyes overflow.

"I'd really like to meet your boyfriend. Can I meet him? H-Harry?"

"Um. Okay."

"Tell me about him. What does he do? Is he in school? I know his name from the news. But tell me everything." I do. I mean, not everything. My god, what has happened to the world?

And three hours later, we're still talking when he walks back into my kitchen. "I have to go mom; he just got home." He smiles at me, my glorious, green-eyed boy.

"Does he live with you?" I would have expected that question to come with judgment but it's just surprise that I hear in her voice.

"No. Sort of. On weekends." He raises his eyebrows at me and puts his hands under his chin, smiling the deep-dimpled smile. I laugh, "I have to go."

"Okay, Maddie. Let's have dinner or something soon."

"Yeah, I'll call you in a couple days. I love you, mom." I have let my guard down and spoken words that have been buried under anger and grief for far too long. I didn't even know the words were still in there. I didn't know they were so close to the surface.

She sucks in a breath. "I love you too, Maddie." My eyes widen, tears leaking out again.

What the fuck just happened in my life? I swear to god. It's like it's fucking opposite day or some shit.

"What happened?"

"She told me she loved me." I think she used to say it back when I was really small. Really small. Harry looks troubled, like he can't understand a mother who doesn't say she loves her kid. Yeah, me fucking neither. "She wants to meet you."

"Oh. Okay." He smirks at me, "not protecting me anymore?"

I smirk back, pretending to box him, "You've proven you don't need protecting." I frown. "Actually, I don't know if you would need protecting. She seems different."

"Maybe she's in therapy too." I shrug. She should be. "Are you hungry?" I shake my head. "Wanna watch tv?" Frown. "Make out?"

"Now we're talking." He throws his head back and laughs. We sit on the sofa in my living room, and make out by the fireplace, which is fake. I should get a real wood burning one installed. The make out session is all very gentle, very careful. Like I'm fragile. Like I might break if he pushes his tongue into my mouth. Like I might crumble if he touches me anywhere other than my face. But I think I'm stronger now than I have ever been.

After awhile, I say, "I have, um, a tradition of looking at these photo albums every year. You know, on his birthday." Harry's smile is dimmed, sad. "I thought maybe you might want to see them?" He nods, pressing his lips to my cheek. I take out the albums and flip through the pages, telling him the stories behind the photos. The ones I know, anyway. Usually I sit alone and cry, running my fingers over his face. Tonight I only cry a little, and I am not alone. It's past midnight when we finally go to bed, I love you on the tip of my tongue.

Sunday morning is quiet. Too quiet. Harry and I eat our bagels in silence. "You don't have to be careful with me, Harry," I finally say.

"I... Yes, I do."

I frown. "No, really you don't. I can handle this. I'm handling it. I know I'm a lot to deal with, but I--"

He interrupts me by pushing his tongue into my mouth. Now we're getting somewhere. He holds the back of my head but pulls his mouth away. "I have to be careful with you because you are precious to me, and I don't ever want to hurt you." His lips skim over mine again.

"You might hurt me, but that's okay." Fuckin Kline. I really am going to start paying her more. "I can handle it. We can handle it." Right? I dip my tongue in between his lips, and he kisses me, really fucking kisses me for the first time since my breakdown Friday night. I tighten my arms around his back, sliding one hand up into his hair. "Don't start something you can't finish," I mumble.

His hands slide down and tickle my sides until I beg him to stop. "Cheeky." He rinses his plate and puts it in the dishwasher. "But, I have to go to work."

Okay, we're okay. This is us. We tease each other. We make out like the air we need to breathe can be found in the other one's mouth. We touch each other with affection and desire. We work through our tense moments by opening up to one another. As long as we keep doing these things, I think we will be okay.

While Harry is at work, I email Andre and nail down our filming schedule for this week. Then I email Leah, Brandon, and Dave about getting together on Friday to work on songs. This is me, reaching out to new people in my life. I don't do this. But I guess I do now. I did with Harry. Look how well that turned out. I have been alone for so long. Too long.

But I am not alone anymore. I have Harry, who comes home at the end of his shift looking totally worn out. He complains about endless deliveries and how Sal's daughter doesn't do anything. He says he would quit the job if he didn't need to cover his rent. I want to tell him just to live with me. But he lives with his band. Maybe that would leave them in the lurch. Then he actually raises his voice, shouting that Sal owns the fucking duplex. So he's working for Sal to pay Sal. That is kind of fucked up. "Why don't you guys find another place to live?" I finally ask.

"He gives us a huge discount. Plus, he lets us use the van for shows."

"You can use my car."

He smiles at me, my beautiful just-for-me smile, dimples slowly carving crescents in his cheeks. "Thanks." He leans over and kisses me. "Let's go to bed."

Bed, it turns out, means repeating pretty much everything from Friday night, except I let him leave to take a shower after. He'll come back to me. I know he will. And he does.

This week starts with a barrage of film shoots. We are on location in Pasadena for the show, so I have to leave even earlier Monday and Tuesday, but then we are done for the fall. Then, back on campus, Andre and I spend our afternoons filming the scenes for our film class. We have one actor, a girl named Sara, a senior in the film program. There are small sets on campus that you can set up for shots, but none of them is quite right. I suggest to Andre that we film at my house. He asks how the lighting is. Yeah, he should definitely be a DP. Only a cinematographer would ask that before anything else.

We wait for Harry and the guys to finish their session in the music room, then drive over, all of Harry's band in tow. I tell them about our project. It's a short film with no dialogue, just music. They ask to watch, so Andre and I agree. Why not?

"You're very certain," Liam says to me between shots.

"What do you mean?"

"Like, you know what you want from them, and you tell them exactly what it is. And then they do it."

I laugh. "Oh. Yeah, that's my job as the director." I raise my hands like, duh?

"Do you like being on this side of the camera better?" Louis asks.

I nod right away. "I never really wanted to be an actor. My mom sort of pushed it on me. I don't like the spotlight."

"I can tell," he says. "Compared to on set that day, you're much happier now." Is that the difference between directing and acting, or is it everything else? Is it Harry asking me to be his girlfriend in a song, even though I already was? Is it because he said he needs me too? I've never felt like this before.

"So is this what you're gonna do, then? After?" Niall interrupts my thoughts.

I shrug. "I have no idea. I'm just sort of dicking around." He laughs this weird staccato laugh, like a digital recording that's skipping.

"Would you ever consider filming something for us?" Liam asks, and Harry shoves his shoulder.

"I told you not to ask her," he growls. I don't want to be in the middle of this shit. Why the fuck does Harry keep arguing with Liam about me? I slide my fingers through his hair, and he turns, his blazing eyes softening. I kiss him, and walk out to the yard to start the next scene.

When I drop Harry and the guys off at the duplex that night, I rest my hand on Harry's for him to stay behind. "What's the deal with Liam?"

"What do you mean?"

I roll my eyes. "Spill, Styles."

"He just wants you to, like, film a music video for us. But I told him not to bother you with that shit. And then he did anyway."

"I would film your video, if you wanted me to," I smile. "I'm a fan, remember?"

"We barely have enough time together as it is, with work and school and my band and your band. Are you still in a band? I don't even know. I don't want to take our time together for that."

He wants to spend more time with me. We don't have enough time together. I am not alone with this feeling. I nod. "Maybe over the break." He shrugs. "I'll do whatever you want, Harry. If you want me to, I'll do it. If you don't, I won't."

"It's that simple?" He smirks at me. "Whatever Harry wants."

My face flushes red. "Pretty much."

"Hmmm." He rubs his hands on his knees. "What if I wanted to stay with you tonight?"

It's Tuesday. God, fuck, are you kidding me? Please stay with me every night. "I mean, I guess." He runs inside to get his stuff and is back in moments. "You could leave some stuff at my place, if you want?" Oh, my fucking face is so red. Thank god it's dark out here. He takes my hand in his, and I drive us home. And we make out on a school night. Like teenagers. Like the teenagers we are.

He has work on Wednesday, so he doesn't stay over with me, but we have an early dinner together. I tell him that my mom asked if we could have dinner with her on Friday, and he readily agrees. Dude, you have no fucking idea what you have gotten yourself into. I'm sure he won't say yes so quickly next time. Thursday night, he works, too, but he comes back to my place after anyway. It is so late when he gets there, I'm already asleep, but he wakes me briefly with a gentle kiss before folding himself around me.

I wake Friday morning with a feeling of dread. Ugh. I don't want to do this. Why have I fucking agreed to do this? I roll over to stare at my sleeping boyfriend. His green eyes meet mine. Slow smile. Kiss. Love. I love you.

"Hi," I murmur.

"Hi."

"You're pretty." He laughs, pulls me closer, kisses me.

I push my tongue into his mouth and dig my nails into his shoulders. I want to feel something other than this fucking worry wearing away at me. He groans and pulls me closer, his tongue swirling with mine. I bite his lower lip gently, trying to get him to groan again. He does. Oh fuck, it's the sexiest sound I've ever heard. He runs one hand up my shirt and caresses my breast lightly, making goosebumps rise on my arms and chest, making my nipples tighten and rise. I want him to grab it. I put my hand over his and make him. A low chuckles rises in his throat. And now he's kneading it, pinching my nipple. And I'm the one groaning. I push my hips against him, the ache building in my belly.

I want him to touch me. I want to touch him. My fingers trail down his back to the band of his boxer briefs, sliding under and onto his cute, round rear. I squeeze, and he laughs into my neck. I bite his ear and move my hand around to the front. His whole body tightens.

"Maddie," his voice is full of worry.

"I want to touch you," I whisper, gently grasping his ample erection in my hand. I have no fucking idea what I'm doing. I run my fingers down, and back up lightly. It is soft and veiny. He moans against my shoulder.

"Oh, god," he puts his hand over mine, tightening my grip a little, and moves it slowly up and down. He plunges his hand into my panties. "Oh, god. You're so fucking wet. Feel," he takes my hand off him and puts it between my legs. I pull my wet fingers away and move his hand back, sliding mine onto his shaft again. We are pressed tightly together, stroking one another with increasing speed. His rubbing fingers distract me, and my movements become sloppy. I steady my grip and pace, pulling gently but rapidly. "Oh, fuck, Maddie," he breathes out. He comes, spilling warmth onto my wrist. He slides his finger down into me, for the first time since the first time. But I don't flinch away from it this time. I want to feel him inside me. I push my hips down against his hand. And I feel a new sensation, as if he has found the source of the ache and is massaging it away. His thumb finds the over-sensitive spot outside, and I come, shuddering, clinging to his shoulders.

I flop back onto the bed, out of breath and shaking, and Harry slides his fingers out of my panties and into his mouth. Gross. He moans. Not gross? He leans down and kisses me, and I can taste me on his mouth. Not totally gross. "That was...wow," I whisper.

"Yes, it was wow." His eyes glitter. Shimmer. Sparkle.

I trace the shape of his eyebrow. "So beautiful," I whisper. He leans down and giggles into a series of kisses.

When we finally get out of bed, we only have time to eat a quick breakfast--lunch?--brunch before he has class, and I have a writing session with my band. My collaboration with Empty is so exciting to me. I love the way they construct the songs. I haven't brought as many poems to the table this time, though, so we only get two tracks written before I have to leave for dinner with my mother.

Fuck. Why why why? I whine in my mind.

I change clothes four times before Harry tells me to calm down, to wear jeans and a t-shirt. He's right. I pull on my black skinny jeans and dark blue sweater with lacy sleeves. I tie my hair in a knot at the base of my head and swipe some pink color onto my lips.

"Ready?" He asks. I shake my head. "Oh, baby, it won't be that bad." He squeezes me against him.

"Easy for you to say, you haven't met her yet." His laughter shakes both our bodies.

She is already there when we get to the restaurant, light gray designer suit with a baby blue silk shell underneath. As if she's in business. She stands as Harry and I approach, arm in arm, my hand tucked into his back pocket. "Maddie," she nods.

"Hi, mom." I look up at Harry. "Harry, this is Meredith, my mother. Mom, Harry."

He takes her hand in his, smiling an electric deep-dimpled smile. "It's so great to meet you, Mrs. Turner."

She giggles. My fucking mother just giggled. At my boyfriend. "Call me Meredith. Or Mom." What the fuck? I roll my eyes at her. But he just smiles politely.

"Shall we sit?" I say, trying to move us along from this ridiculous moment. The dinner goes really well. Shockingly well. My mom asks Harry tons of questions, and he answers her graciously. I'm actually glad because I learn more about him. He never really played sports; he wasn't coordinated enough. He wears glasses. What? Contacts, now, he adds. He talks about his school in England. It's fascinating. I never really went to school, I mean not once my career picked up. I had on-set tutors instead.

I stay quiet for most of the meal, but Harry is charming, and he makes my mother laugh several times. I don't remember the last time she genuinely laughed, I mean, if ever. Harry seems to have that effect on the Turner women.

At the end of the night, he hugs her. And she lets him. I move to hug her, too, because I guess she hugs people now? We come in awkwardly, poking hands into necks and ribs, and now I'm laughing with her. And she holds me. Oh my god, my mother has her arms wrapped around my body, and she isn't letting go. I start to cry. "I'm sorry," she sighs against my hair. What the fuck?

And now I am convinced that Harry is some sort of witch doctor, wizard, hypnotist. What has he done to me? To her? My life has been knocked all out of balance ever since he bounced that bean bag chair against my shoulder. It has changed--I have changed. In so many ways. In the best ways.

When we're back in the car, Harry driving because I am crying too much, he asks if I'm okay. I nod. When I collect some air, I say, "My mom hasn't, um, hugged me since I was really little."

"Why?"

"I don't know. But I've missed it," I breathe. Pull it together, Maddie. All you do when Harry is around is cry or moan. I peek at him. He is frowning as he concentrates on the road, and his hair is pushed up from his face messily. I want to run my hands into that hair and pull it. And make him moan. Fuck. I love him so much I almost can't breathe just thinking about it. I love him for the way he can see behind my bullshit, my worry, my fear. And I love him for staying through all of this. And I love him for the way he looks at me, like I am so beautiful. I like who I am through his eyes.

When we get home, we sit on the sofa in the tv room watching those crappy Friday night shows, my legs sideways across his lap. I am distracted from the idiotic comedy by his kiss, and we mute the tv to make out. He pulls my legs so I'm laying on my back, then lays on top of me, sliding his hand into my shirt and his tongue into my mouth. Our bodies are moving together, writhing like snakes. Why are we wearing so many fucking clothes? I pull his shirt off, and we are kissing again. He tugs at the hem of my sweater, and I let him pull it off, so I am just in a pale pink bra. I fumble with the button of his too-tight jeans but finally get it loose. He groans when my hand slides into his pants. I pull at my jeans, sliding them down without unbuttoning them. He pulls them the rest of the way off, and stares down at me from his knees.

I cover my chubby belly with my hands, but he reaches down and moves them. "You are so beautiful, Maddie." He hunches down to kiss my stomach, then moves up to my chest, to my shoulder. He kisses up to my neck as he slides the strap of my bra off my shoulder. "So beautiful." He slides off the other strap. "So strong." His hands reach around and pull at the band. "So clever." My bra comes away in his hands. "Such a smartass," he smirks, invading my mouth with his, invading my mind with him.

"I...I'm not ready to..."

"We won't. I just want to see you," he whispers. "Can I see you?"

"You already do. You're the only one who really does."

He kisses me again, his hands finding my bare breasts. His tongue leaves a wet trail down my neck and into the curve of my collarbone. I reach my hand into his pants again. "Mmmm." He moans. He moves his mouth to my breast and sucks gently, his fingers tugging at the band of my panties. I lift my hips, and he slides them down my legs. He pauses above me again, gazing down at my naked form. "Maddie. You're so beautiful."

He leans back down and kisses me again, pressing his hips against me, the zipper of his jeans scratching against the tender skin of my belly. I wrap my hand around him again and he moves his hips against my hand, against my body. His hand on my skin is soft like a love song, gently traveling down my breast, my stomach, between my legs. And for the second time today, we find release in each other's arms.

(A/N: please vote and comment and share. ❤️)