It had been at least four days since I had actually spoken to Harry, and now with it being the weekend, I knew I wouldn't have to deal with him. He had tried to win me over by bringing me food, but I would simply give it back to him with a note that said, "No, thank you." Or, by bringing it back I meant that I would place it outside his door so I wouldn't have to try and talk to him. I felt like taking the food from him would show that I had forgiven him, when that wasn't what happened. He hadn't left me alone when I asked, and now he was paying for it.

Reading on the sofa, I was about halfway through the romance novel. While I usually went for more feminist-type books, there was something about a romance that I just usually could not put down. Even if the man in the novel was ill-tempered, and the woman was sometimes childish. But, since I was halfway through, and it was only about nine, I figured I would probably get through the rest of this book by eleven and then call it a night. After all, this was my third book of the day, and I knew I would need to go out and get some more shortly.

It was around ten when I felt like I needed some water, so I placed my book down on the table, getting up from the sofa to get a drink. Grabbing a glass from the cupboard, I filled it with ice, quickly filling it with water. Sipping on the drink a few times, I filled it up again before I made my way back over to the sofa. Picking up where I left off, I was reading about the woman being asked to host a party in a penthouse. It sounded like such an extravagant life, and I wondered if I would ever even step foot in something so fancy. Then again, I had plenty of time to figure all of that out. It wasn't like I didn't have any time at all.

After what felt like another hour had passed, I heard what I thought was a knock at my door. It was weird. I didn't expect anyone, and I knew it was at least ten now. Quietly getting up off the couch, I placed my book down again. Not wanting to make a bunch of noise, I slowly walked over, glancing out the peephole to see Harry. He was standing there, his fingers running through his hair quickly. I didn't know what he was doing here so late. It wasn't like he had called to say he was coming over. Plus, I was still irritated with him.

As I was about to walk back to the sofa, there was a knock again. This one was more urgent, a sigh leaving my lips. I glanced down at what I was wearing, noting that my pajamas were cute, but he probably was going to be irritated by them. The strawberry pattern was adorable, but the spaghetti strap tank top and very short shorts were probably something he was going to be very unhappy with. Though, the more I thought about it, the more I realized I could give two shits about what he wanted.

Pulling the door open, he quickly stood up straighter, green eyes assessing me the way they normally did. He looked me over twice, my eyes focused on him. His arms were both behind his back now, and I didn't know what he was doing. He was acting weird, and looked nervous, and I had only seen him nervous once before at the dinner party last week.

"Um, hi," he greeted.

I stared at him. He wasn't getting me to talk unless he had something really good to say. I continued to stand in the doorway, Harry standing on the porch outside. The light was on so it was easy to see him. He was wearing a black shirt-sleeve button down, a couple buttons undone up top. His shirt was tucked into his dark trousers, the pinstripe lines very faint, but I hated how well he always dressed. Discarding the hugs, I glanced around, knowing that I normally would be concerned with bugs, but I wasn't that worried today. The air tonight wasn't as hot and muggy as it had been previous evenings.

"You're still not going to talk to me?" he questioned, but when I didn't answer he sighed. "I didn't listen because I didn't think you were serious. I would have left when you started counting if I knew you were going to ignore me like this. I like getting you stuff and you're not even accepting any of it."

He was right. He did normally give me things, even if they were jokes, but I had been giving everything back to him. It could've been food, or a simple notebook over the past two days, and I simply set it back outside his door. I didn't want him to think that he was winning. Breathing deeply, I found myself getting ready to shut the door when he shook his head, clearing his throat.

"Stop. I'm not ... stop," he said, his voice even showing he was anxious. "I know you're not going to talk to me. I get it. I just ... I look forward to going to work and knowing I get to talk to you for a little bit. It sounds so stupid saying it, but I like having you as a friend. I haven't meshed well with anyone there except for you."

He shook his head, my eyebrows tugging in when he pulled a bouquet of flowers from behind him. I think I had only ever gotten flowers once in my life, and it was when Timothy had proposed to me. It was the first and only time. Yet here was this curly-haired personality that I had known for about a month bringing me flowers because I wasn't talking to him. I didn't take them from him, but I shifted to the side so he would get that I wanted him to come in. He quickly took the opportunity, allowing me to shut the door behind him before I locked it. He stood in my foyer with me, looking rather anxious as he held onto the flowers.

"You're still mad. I get it. I just wanted to come by and talk to you. Or, at least you're letting me talk at you, I guess."

He kept speaking as I walked to the kitchen, grabbing a vase from under the sink. Filling it with water, I watched as he unwrapped them from their paper. They were prettier than my proposal flowers, and I wanted to know how much he spent on them. They looked like they came from a florist, my cheeks flushing at the thought. Acting like I was very focused on the vase, I went to grab the flowers when I realized there was still a thorn on one of them. Glancing at my hand, I sighed.

"What?"

I shook my head.

"What's wrong?"

Before I could even get a word out if I wanted to, he had grabbed my hand. My eyes widened when I realized he had fully put his thumb onto the cut, Harry looking slightly nauseous at the current situation. Though I was surprised when he didn't immediately start gagging, instead, started pulling me to my bathroom. My room was a mess, but he ignored it, pulling me into the bathroom and flicking on the light. I watched as he positioned me in front of him, Harry turning the sink on and placing our hands under the warm water. He used his free one to squirt soap onto his palm, my face burning when he washed my hand in between both of his.

I stared at him in the mirror. His arms went under me instead of over me, so he was lightly squeezing my hips as he washed my hand in the sink. His eyes were focused, paying close attention to what he was doing after I had done it twice before for him. I always felt like this was more intimate than it should have been, but he was being sweet, kind, and gentle with me. It was a little confusing, especially since he hadn't been nearly as frightened by the blood this time. Though I was pulled out of my thoughts when he shut the water off.

Harry grabbed a hand towel, drying off his hands first before wiping mine down. I watched as he glanced over my palm, seeming to watch and make sure that the wound wasn't bleeding before he nodded, hanging the towel up on the rack. Glancing down at my hand, I was happy it wasn't bleeding, my eyes being torn away from my hand when Harry tilted my chin up.

"Of course I get the ones that would somehow hurt you," he chuckled.

I shrugged.

"I'll get you to talk to me again eventually."

I shrugged again.

"Let's go put those flowers in water, yeah?"

I nodded.

He took my hand in his before I could really think about what was happening. His fingers were warm between mine, and I blushed at how he was trying to be so caring with me. Once we made it to the kitchen, he let go, looking at the flowers before picking them up to place them in the vase. The bouquet looked so pretty on my island, Harry throwing the paper away. Glancing down at the counter, I wondered why he was being so nice. I also wondered how often he gave Cherry flowers. It must have been a lot. Then again, he had said he didn't love her so maybe it wasn't a lot. Of course, I was having another episode of overthinking, not even realizing I was so upset that he had gotten me flowers until now.

"What's wrong? Does your hand hurt? Let me look."

He quickly took my hand, pressing a kiss to the mark a few times. It was so sweet, and I wanted to push him away. Why was he like this with me? He had a girlfriend. He should have been with Cherry right now. It was a Saturday night, and yet he chose to be here with me. The silly girl who wrote newsletters at his work and didn't talk to him the past couple of days.

"You're getting a hug even if I hate them," he murmured before he wrapped his arms around me. "Why are we crying? What's wrong?"

I shook my head. I hadn't cried to him before, but this was truly embarrassing. Or, if he didn't feel embarrassed, I certainly was. I hated crying, and yet here I was, letting the flood gates go right in front of him. He had no reason to deal with my problems, and yet he kept holding me, Harry playing with my hair as he held onto me.

"Mhm. I know. I know, doll, it's okay."

"He only bought me flowers once. Was I not good enough? You're just my friend who I wasn't talking to and you bought me flowers. W-Why didn't he buy me flowers? I was with him for six years and he got them for m-me once."

"I would've bought you some chocolates or something if I knew this would be so upsetting for you," he said softly to me, one of his hands settling onto the back of my head as I cried against his chest. "I'm so sorry he only bought them for you once. A pretty girl like you deserves flowers all the time."

I finally wrapped my arms around him, holding onto him tightly as I cried against him. He rested his head on top of mine, keeping me close for what felt like forever. For whatever reason, I felt safe with him. I always did. And even if I wanted to not talk to him, I let out what I needed to let out. When the crying had finally stopped, and I was left with just a few sniffles, Harry cupped my cheeks, tilting my head up so he could look at me.

"You poor thing," he said softly.

"I bet I look awful."

"You always do," he nodded.

"Hey!"

"I'm kidding," he smiled, picking me up and setting me on the counter nearby.

"Promise?" I asked, not meaning to say it but I already had.

The word made him smile. "Pinky."

I watched as he wrapped his pinky around mine. It was familiar to me, but I still had never met someone who took them this seriously. Not that I minded. If anything, I appreciated the fact that he took them so seriously. It showed that he valued them. Suddenly, he was pressing a kiss to his thumb at the same time I pressed a kiss to mine, the curly-haired personality smirking at me when he pulled away.

"I think you've got something right..." he pulled his pinky away from me, my face burning when he brushed his thumb under my nose. "Just snot."

"Harry," I complained.

"What?" he laughed.

He was quick to grab a washcloth out of the drawer, wiping his thumb off. I sent him a frown when he started to wipe under my eyes gently. I tried to push him away when he wiped under my nose with the washcloth now, but he stayed there, making sure I was taken care of like he always did. Shaking my head, I smiled when he wrapped his arms around me, his head resting against my chest as mine rested on top of his. For someone who hated hugging, he always felt so warm and inviting. But, I figured it had something to do with the overwhelming essence of lavender, mint, and something cozy that took over my senses when he hugged me.

"You feel better?" he asked. "I won't buy you flowers without your permission next time."

"I'm okay."

"At least you're talking to me," he murmured.

"Mhm."

"Do you want to talk about why you were so angry the other day?" he asked.

I didn't want to tell him. What was I going to say? Hey Harry, I didn't want to talk to you because I just kept seeing you fucking your girlfriend every single time I looked at your stupid face. Yeah, I was certain he would have loved to hear that. If anything, he probably would have made a joke about it, and it would have caused me to become incredibly irritated with him yet again.

"Magdalina?" he asked.

"No, I don't want to talk about it."

"Alright. I'll allow it, but only this once," he told me. "On another note, I was going to have Zayn come by and meet you one day next week. At the station, I mean. He's cool. I think you'll like him a lot. But, then when he takes you to the party and comes to pick you up you're not freaking out about some weirdo on your doorstep."

I hummed. He continued to hold onto me for a while, and I wanted to know what he was thinking. Then again, I knew I probably would never know his every thought. He finally pulled me off the counter after a while, setting me down on the floor. I looked up at him, Harry smiling down at me.

"Were you going to stay?" I asked quietly.

"Oh. I didn't think you'd want me to."

"Yeah, but it's Saturday," I said to him. "And the person normally, um, you know."

"Kills. Yeah, I'll stay with you. Make sure you're safe," he nodded. "I wouldn't even let them near you. And if they touched you, I'd make sure they wished they didn't."

"You don't mean it."

"I do. You're my friend. I want to look out for you."

I nodded.

"Also, I know this is like ... I shouldn't make it your business, but my guy friends think I'm an idiot not wanting to just have sex. I just ... Cherry is very good to me when it comes to being intimate, but I sometimes try to ask if she wants to just go on a date and she never wants to. Do you think it's weird if I want to just spend time with her when we aren't doing, you know, the whole sex thing. I didn't think it was weird, but all of my friends think it is."

And there it was. I had asked him days ago if he had loved her, and it was clear to me now that he probably did. Even if he didn't want to think so, he was very into her and I knew she wasn't into him in the same manner. It was sad to think that I knew what she was feeling, and now seeing how he felt about her.

"I don't think it's silly," I assured him. "I-I know you think I do some choice things—"

"I don't think that about you," he quickly corrected. "If you want to do that, that's fine. I'm not shaming you. You're just so sweet, I didn't think you'd be interested in doing that kind of stuff with strangers. I would never shame you for that, ever, okay?"

He was being overly sweet tonight and I wasn't sure if it was because we hadn't talked in a while, or if he was sappy because he wanted more with Cherry and was being vulnerable by opening up to me about it. Sighing, I thought about what I could say to him to help. Something that would guide him in the right direction.

"You know what I mean, though, right? Like, if you're not on your knees, I'm sure you're ass up—"

"Harry!" I yelled.

"What? Fine, missionary. That isn't the—"

"I'm not like that!" I continued.

"Damn, what kind of sex are you having then?" he laughed, staring down at me. "Now I'm thinking maybe I'm doing something wrong."

"I'm not having sex. None. Never. Not at all."

He looked incredibly confused. I could tell that he was thinking over my words for a while, seeming to piece them together. Of course, I didn't particularly enjoy telling anyone that I was a virgin. It wasn't that embarrassing when I had a fiancé and told people I was saving myself for marriage. Now, being single and twenty-one, I felt like it seemed a little hard to understand.

"Don't tell me..."

"What?" I asked.

"There is absolutely no way you're a virgin. You were engaged."

"Yeah," I nodded. "Engaged to God."

He seemed interested now. It was as if what I told him had opened an entire book of questions in his mind. I tried to push him away when he went to cup my cheeks, knowing that he was being awfully clingy for a man who hated most physical touch. Though, he won, my face being framed by his palms.

"So you were saving yourself for marriage?"

"Whatever," I mumbled.

"No, I think it's cute you wanted to wait. Good on you. I wish I waited," he nodded. "I might be experienced, but I shouldn't have had sex until probably seventeen or eighteen. I think I would have been mentally stable enough at that point. I was just a kid."

And again, I was thinking about how he had been so young. He was just fourteen. He was barely in high school. The poor thing probably didn't even realize how wrong it was until years later. It was clear he was thinking about it a lot, and while I knew he hated hugs, I found myself smiling up at him, his eyes quickly focusing on me.

"What?"

"You'll let me hug you, right?" I asked.

"Why?"

"Come on."

"I think you've hugged me plenty this evening."

"Harry," I murmured. "I just told you my biggest secret."

"Yeah, fine, okay," he nodded.

He didn't like it. I could tell. Harry had said he liked being the one to initiate any sort of hugging, so I knew this was difficult for him. His entire body was tense, and I found myself tracing small shapes over his back. It took a while for him to relax, and I wondered if it all stemmed from when he was younger. I wondered if that was why he wanted to take Cherry on dates every now and again instead of simply having sex and then saying goodbye to one another. When I could tell he finally relaxed, he was leaning into me more, the tall man in front of me even hiding in the crook of my neck. It was like he needed the hug, even if he didn't want it.

"You okay?" I asked quietly.

"Fine."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"You just let go whenever—"

He immediately pulled away, his breathing slightly rigid but he quickly got it under control. I looked up at him, seeing that he looked a little overwhelmed. Pressing a kiss to his cheek, he blushed, both of my hands grabbing one of his.

"I'm kind of sleepy," I told him.

"Okay. We can get you to bed," he assured.

While I had been the one holding onto him, he led the way to my messy bedroom. He turned the light on, and while I expected him to say something about the mess, he simply walked over to my bed. I didn't know what he was doing, but he let go of me, turning down the bed. He neatly placed the decorative pillows by the nightstand, Harry pulling the comforter down and leaving me with a duvet. I swallowed hard, watching as he patted the bed.

"You said you're staying?" I asked.

"If you'll have me."

I smiled. "Yes."

He chuckled, watching as I climbed into bed. Once he tucked me in, I watched as he started to pick up my clothes around my room. He didn't listen when I told him to stop, finally telling me that he wanted me to have a clean room when I woke up. Again, he was being so sweet, Harry dropping my clothes in the hamper. He grabbed the couple of glasses on my nightstand and took them out to the kitchen before he came back with a new glass of water, setting it down. I watched as he took his shoes off by the door, and I knew it meant he was going to sit with me. Quickly shifting over, he smiled, climbing into my bed with me.

"I like it when you actually talk to me," he stated.

"I know."

"It was my fault. I should've listened to you."

"It's whatever."

"Not whatever," he told me, leaning over me and playing with my hair. "I should listen to you the first time."

"Mhm."

"You want some donuts in the morning?" he asked.

"You don't have to."

"Well, I know that," he laughed. "Pretty girls deserve donuts, no?"

"Stop saying that."

"Saying what?"

"That I'm pretty."

"Why? You wouldn't want me to lie to God, would you?" he asked.

"No."

"Then I guess I'll just have to keep calling you pretty."

I turned around so I wasn't facing him, Harry chuckling softly. He leaned over me still, continuing to play with my hair as I faced away from him. It was cute. Even if he hated hugging, he always liked to touch me in some way. He continued to brush through my hair for a while, finally pausing when I assumed he thought I fell asleep. Though I quickly turned back around, looking up at him.

"Will you pray with me?"

"Um..." he cleared his throat, looking incredibly nervous for a moment before he recovered. "Yeah. I'm a little rusty."

"Just a quick Hail Mary."

"Sure, doll."

"Hail, Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou amongst women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen."

He did remember every word. Even if he said he was rusty, he had spoken the words to me softly. I smiled up at him, Harry shaking his head. Taking a deep breath, I shut my eyes, turning so that I was lying on my side. I was facing away from him again, a chuckle leaving his lips.

"You're just going to have me pray with you and then fall asleep?" he asked.

"Yeah. What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing, it's just ... you're so cute, doll."

I wanted to push him away, but he was being nice. Of course, he had never been overtly rude to me ever, but we had seen things differently before. Yet, hearing him call me cute was something I had not expected in the slightest. Swallowing hard, I wrapped my arms around one of my pillows, Harry beginning to play with my hair again.

"Sweet dreams, Magdalina."

"Goodnight, Harry."

I did fall asleep not much later. He was there the entire time, playing with my hair, making sure that I was at ease. I hated how much I had missed him, even if I was the one who had been the reason we didn't talk. But, I was very glad he came over tonight. Not only did I feel a lot safer in my home, but I was a lot happier now knowing that I had my friend back.