His fingers run down my bare skin, slowly and perfectly, up my thigh, resting on my hip, gripping the flesh there as he pushes himself deeper inside me. I hide my face in his neck and try to stay quiet. I use my hands to apply pressure to the small of his back. I want more, I want all of him, this is all I've ever wanted and I finally have him; I finally let him have me.

But then my eyes open and once again I realize it isn't real; it never happened. No matter how good every sensation and touch felt, it was only a dream. Usually I'm alone and breathless when I wake up, but now I'm in his bed, in his arms, straddling his body with my head against his chest. And I'm breathless and confused and I think I should probably go. Now.

I sit up quickly and slide off of him. My feet haven't even touched the ground when his eyes open slowly and he looks up at me.

"Don't leave, Cilly Baby."

His voice is sleepy and he dozes off again as soon as the words are out of his mouth. I can feel my heart beat slow down and my breathing steadies immediately. I couldn't leave him now if I tried. But I can't sleep either, and I cannot stay in this bed.

Poor Harry and his tiny little apartment. Theres the bed and two night stands on either side of it, a TV on the wall and a couple of stools at the counter beside the door. I wish he had a couch, but there's no way in hell a couch is fitting in here and there still be room to walk around.

I rub my arms, now I feel the cold he talked about last night. I must really be sober. I get up and go to the closet, looking for something warmer to put on. As I pull on a pair of his sweat pants I hear my phone ring and dive for it before it wakes Harry up.

"Hello?"

I whisper harshly into the phone, and roll my eyes at the voice on the other end.

"What are you whispering for?"

His words are slurred and he sounds terrible. Not at all his usual cheery and care free self. But I'm too pissed at him for taking me out and getting me sloppy drunk to really give a crap about him being drunk at two o'clock in the afternoon.

"Don't fucking worry about it, Louis, what do you want?"

"Just checking on you darling, making sure you got home safe. El was worried about you getting carried out by that guy."

"I'm fine."

"Who is he? Your brother?"

"Did he look like my brother you fucking idiot? Do I even have a brother?"

"Well who else would fly in like Captain Underpants and rescue you."

"I honestly don't know why I even have shit to do with you."

"Because we're family now, Braddock, and family sticks together."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"We took care of you in the home, that means you stay loyal, CeCe. No trying to leave us behind for your old money friends. You don't belong with them any more and you know it."

"Yeah you took great fucking care of me, except that one time I took a steel tray to the face..."

"We thought you had that one under control and you did! You beat her ass good!"

"What the fuck ever man. What do you want?"

"I told you I called to check up on you-"

"And now you have, I'm fine, goodbye."

"AND to discuss the remark your little friend made on his way out of the club."

"What remark?"

I passed out as Harry carried me out, I don't have any idea what he said to Louis or anybody else. I glance over at him, still asleep, I hear his breath hitch for a moment and my eyes dart around the room, looking for his inhaler. I tiptoe over to the nightstand on his side of the bed and open it.

As I rummage around I mentally kick myself for thinking of it as his side of the bed. It's his bed, not our bed. It is Harry's bed, not mine. No part of that bed belongs to me and it isn't going to so I can just cut that shit out right now.

I head around to the other nightstand and open it, but the inhaler isn't there either. I realize that Louis is still talking, and I'm not paying him any attention at all.

"So just tell him that it's not the wisest idea to threaten me. I'll only let it slide this time because he's your friend...if it happens again though-"

"You won't do a fucking thing to him. You better calm your little ass down Louis. I don't know who you think you are but you do not threaten him, especially not to me."

"Oh you're a G now, I guess."

"I don't need to be one to handle you. Your not tough Louis, and your not cool. You're drunk. You were in juvy, not fucking Sing Sing or San Quentin. Calm the hell down before you get hurt."

"Before I get hurt? Is that a threat CeCe?"

"It's whatever the fuck you need it to be, Douche."

I hang up the phone and throw it back onto the bed. The screen is still cracked to all hell and I feel like being careless with it and everything else.

*TWO YEARS AGO*

Walking up to the large white house with the red shutters was unsettling, mostly because she knew she had no choice but to stay there no matter what lurked behind the big brown front door. To her surprise the front hall and the rooms off of either side of it looked like a home; cozy couches in the living room, a dining room table, pictures and a tv and dishes in a china cabinet.

She walked close to the state policeman who escorted her, and she almost felt hopeful that things wouldn't be so bad here.

"Rick! Why would you bring her in through the staff entrance?"

"Well Moira, it wasn't my idea...see this one is special. She's a mayor's granddaughter or something...comes out of Brentwood."

Cecilia was careful to look away as the officer and the woman he spoke with both turned their glances in her direction. She thought to herself that she'd been foolish and naive to think a home for troubled youth could be as quaint and cozy as this.

She again began preparing herself for the worst.

"Brentwood huh? That's rich." They laughed together as Cecilia stood by and shuffled her feet. "We don't get many of those kids up here. She's a rare bird."

"A rare bird with a tough mother. I think they want her to learn her lesson well; keep her from getting into any more trouble."

She jumped at the feeling of his hand gripping her shoulder, for he was rough and far too familiar with his touch. She dared not flinch away or try to break free; she didn't trust that a man with a gun, a taser, and a nightstick would respond well to defiance.

"What did she do?"

She focused her eyes on the woman for the first time; she looked like an old broad from New Jersey, with a big teased bouffant hairdo and a brightly patterned silk shirt tucked into her dress slacks. She wasn't old, but the mountain of makeup caked upon her face wasn't helping her appear very youthful; the shiny pink lipstick on her mouth blended in with her complexion and gave her a washed out effect. It wasn't flattering. Cecilia tried not to judge her by her appearance and hoped she would in turn extend her the same courtesy.

"Tried to kill her stepfather." The woman's eyes looked at Cecilia in shocked disbelief. "Hard to believe isn't it?"

"She's a pretty little thing; but then again so is Calder. No wonder they stuck the two of them in together."

She gestured to Cecilia with one of her long fingers and turned away from the officer as the girl followed behind her down a long hallway.

"Be good Braddock! You'll be out of here in no time."

The words were of little comfort to her as the building went from looking homey to clinical. The hardwood floors changed to yellowing linoleum beneath her ballet flats. The walls went from wall paper with wainscoting to eggshell white and lit by harsh fluorescent lights. The smell went from potpourri to the stale air of shut windows and air conditioning.

She followed the woman, who's name she had yet to learn, up several flights of winding metal stairs until they emerged at the top floor of the house.

"Now I can tell you're a girl of privilege, but believe me that'll do you no good here." They stopped at a closet in the hall and the woman unlocked it. Folded neatly on all the shelves were rows and rows of white linens and at the bottom, white tennis shoes. "They'll eat you alive if they think you're an easy target; they thrive on fear."

Cecilia took the words in as the woman handed her several shirts and pants from the closet, as well as a sweater and shoes.

"I'm not afraid."

She spoke softly, but it was the truth. She felt muted, as though all the life and spirit within her had finally been quieted down; but she was still brave. She'd never let anyone bully her and now was not the time to start.

The woman looked at her as though she was a curious thing; she seemed to be in the verge of asking a question, but decided to shut and lock the closet and then continue leading the way down the hall.

They stopped at a room numbered 218 and opened the door. Cecilia was relieved to find the room to be nice; there were two identically decorated sides, each with a twin bed, a desk, a lamp, and between both a window with a view of the vast green field that made up the backyard of the home. A young girl with dark brown hair and big brown eyes looked up from a photograph with bloodshot eyes and wiped away tears as the door opened.

"I'm sorry."

She whispered and stood to her feet in her all white uniform.

"Calder, this is Braddock. She'll be you roommate from now on." Cecilia tried to smile at the girl, who looked back with eyes full of sadness and empathy. "Go to the rec room. I need to do intake with her in private."

Cecilia was curious as to what intake would entail as the other girl left the room. She quickly found out it consisted of the woman, a facility nurse and two other administrators coming in and watching intently as she stripped out of her clothing.

There was no screen provided for her to hide behind; the humiliating process was done in full view of everyone in the room. She was too preoccupied with shame to properly notice the way the woman who'd greeted her downstairs coveted the one piece of jewelry she wore; a Tiffany key on a chain around her neck. She clenched it tightly, looking to the adults in the room and pleading with her eyes to keep it.

"That too. Everything has to be accounted for. You'll get it back when you're released."

They said and Cecilia did as she was told, removing the necklace and shutting her eyes as she handed it over.

As soon as she put on the all white attire that she'd been given, she was shuffled into the recreation room. It was quiet but somehow still lively, and it reminded her of high school the way people grouped together. She had and wanted no group; she was weary and wanted to sit alone and be quiet and maybe read a little.

She saw no books and her heart sank, but there was a window seat off in the corner where no one seemed to congregate and so she sat there and stared outside.

She didn't let her mind wander to anything in particular; she just watched birds flit from one tree to another and amused herself that way.

"You on meds or something?"

A voice asked as a boy with a trendy haircut and an impish grin sat in front of her. She glanced at him and shook her head solemnly.

"No."

"Oh so you're just sulky then?" She opened her mouth to protest being described as sulky. He spoke before she could. "Cut that shit out; no one wants to see a pretty rich girl pouting."

"Then don't look at me."

She was surprised at her rudeness, how she was so dismissive of someone who didn't even know her, but she was deeply tired of the home already; being judged repeatedly by her appearance, having her belongings taken away, being forced to stay in this prison like atmosphere, were all taking a toll on her.

"Oooh is that how it is? Well you'll change your tune soon enough; you can't make it in here alone."

She glanced over his shoulder, to the three much bigger boys who stood off just to the side watching him intently as though waiting for instruction. She raised her eyebrows and turned her attention back to the scenery outside the window.

"You can't."

He took offense and stormed off quickly, and Cecilia couldn't say she felt sorry or bad to see him go. She wasn't concerned with navigating the social structure of this place; making friends or being a target didn't concern her. She found comfort in sitting quietly alone in a corner of her own for a moment.

So that's what she did.

*NOW.*

I really don't want to be around Harry right now.

I'm descending into a mood and I'd hate to take it out on him. I don't want to fight with him; all he's been is sweet to me. But I know if I stick around he'll set me off, or I'll set him off, and more importantly I want to drink and be self destructive, right after I find Louis and curse him all the way out.

I have to get dressed and get out of this apartment.

But I can't find my damn clothes: where the hell could Harry have put them?

The only place I haven't looked is this long dresser on the wall beside the bathroom. The room is so small that I can sit on the nightstand and open the dresser drawers, so I do.

The top drawer on one side has his underwear in it; all Calvin Klein boxer briefs -black, white and grey - all neatly folded and in color coded rows. I try not to wonder which whore he had do that for him; I know Harry would never neatly fold his own clothes, especially not his freaking underwear.

The bastard had someone else in this apartment, and it makes me sick to my stomach to think she was also in our bed.

His bed.

Harry's bed, not mine.

I can't do this shit.

And so in desperation I open the second drawer, which is so full that it won't open all the way, and so is the third one on that side. Clothes are just jammed into them, which is a lot more like Harry. I smile as I realize the skank wasn't allowed to stick around long enough to organize these.

I open the top drawer on the side closest to me and see my clothes, folded as neatly as Harry could manage. If they weren't in there, the drawer would be totally empty. Out of curiosity I open the drawer beneath it; it's empty and the drawer beneath that is empty too. I wonder why he would jam the other drawers so full when he has three that are empty.

"Cilly?"

His voice is just a whisper as he wakes up, deep and hoarse, so much so that he mutters my name more than anything else. I stand up and walk over to him.

"Yes."

"Just making sure you were still here..."

He smiles, rubbing his eyes. I die just a little inside. His dimples are on full display, his sleep had been so heavy that his face is a bit swollen and a bit flushed, his hair is an absolute mess, but still some how perfect.

That's what Harry is to me, a mess that still manages to be perfect. He's my mess and I'm his.

No, no, no, no, no.

I really have to stop thinking things like that.

It's unhealthy.

"I'm still here." I say with a very slightly annoyed tone. His smile fades a little and this is exactly what I didn't want. "I fell asleep too, so I didn't order anything. "

"That's okay. Come here."

He holds his arms out to me and I sit next to him on the edge of the bed. He wraps them around my body and rests his head on my lap. He lifts the hem of his T-shirt up and exposes my stomach.

"Harry!" I gasp. His mouth is curled up in a look of pure mischief as he looks up at me; sunlight hits his eyes and they gleam. I don't say anything else as he lowers his lips to my belly button. He kisses it gently, then runs his tongue across it, then takes the ring between his teeth and gently pulls on it. I squirm and bite my lip.

I'm not numb to this, whatever the hell it is that he's doing. I feel every bit of it, and I love every second.

"Harry..."

To my shock and somewhat horror his name escapes my lips as a moan, the only moan I've ever uttered. His head shoots up and his eyes were just as wide as mine. A grin spreads slowly across his face as I blush. He's incredibly pleased with himself and I feel like a huge lame.

"I've been thinking about that belly ring all day." I bite my lip and hold his head as I lean forward. Our lips connect in yet another kiss that I cannot feel, but I desperately want to.

When I push him away he still looks quite happy with himself and I can't help beaming at him. "I'm hungry now. Order something I can eat off of your stomach."

I giggle, literally giggle like an idiot, as he nuzzles his face against my stomach and kisses my navel.

What the hell is happening to me?

I haven't giggled in the last few years put together as much as I have since seeing Harry again.

But I haven't been this happy either.

I can admit that he makes me happy. He does. I can admit that I trust him. I do. I can admit that I want him.

But then again, no. I don't want him because I don't want him to want me because I can't give him what he needs and that's my problem not his and it isn't fair.

I place my hands on either side of his face and move his head, the thrill his mouth sent through me still lingers in my stomach and even further down to a part of my body I never think about. I shake my head at him.

"That is totally inappropriate behavior. You're my boss now."

It's a grand excuse; not only is it convenient but it's also completely true.

"Please say that again."

"You're a perv."

"That sounds pretty hot too."

He continues to tease me, so I whine and pout and try to guilt him into giving me my way.

"Harry, I'm serious!"

"So am I."

"You can't talk to me like that in the shop."

"I am absolutely going to talk to you like that in the shop, Cilly." I open my mouth to speak but get cut off by the sound of his phone buzzing. He pales a bit, then looks up at me with suddenly clouded eyes. "Order the food, Baby, okay? I'm starving."

"Okay."

I answer, but he doesn't wait or seem interested in what I say as he slides out of the bed and heads into the bathroom, shutting the door before answering the call.