When my insomniac self last glanced at the clock it was 2am. Despite the cramped sofa, I was finally unable to keep my eyes open a moment longer and I let sleep take hold.

However, this morning I am awake and comfortable in Harry's bed. I roll onto my back, wielding a huge yawn, to find him sat up and looking through his phone. When he sees me stir, he puts it to one side and lies down beside me.

"Morning, Beautiful. I woke around 3.15am and you weren't here. Found you asleep on the sofa." He sounds tired and bothered.

I turn onto my side to face him. "Sorry, I nodded off in front of the TV." I reach out to him but he shoots a glare towards me so I retract my hand.

"Really, because the TV was switched off and you looked fairly settled for the night in the camp you made?" He has seen straight through me. "Are you going to tell me what's up?"

I hear the untruth of my answer before it is even out of my mouth. "Nothing, everything is fine."

"I told your Mum I'd look after you. Not getting a proper rest at night won't do you any good." He states churlishly.

"I'm not a child and I don't need looking after. As I said, everything is fine." I snap back.

"Ok, whatever you say." He rises swiftly out of bed and huffs his way to the bathroom. Clearly, he does not believe my pretence; he is more astute and caring than that. The word 'underestimate' appears in my mind to torment me.

Our day ambles by with an unease swirling around us. Every time I gain enough courage to talk to him, we are interrupted.

During breakfast, we settle on opposite sides of the kitchen island. Harry buries himself in his phone whilst I sit restlessly pushing my cuticles back with my thumbnail and staring out into the garden. Just as I work out how I am going to broach what is bothering me, he gets up. He drops his bowl in the sink, clattering the spoon against the china and making my already nervous disposition even more jumpy. He strolls out of the kitchen and with his back to me announces he is going for a run.

Over lunch our talk is generically meaningless. Just as I am about to tell him I need to talk to him, my phone disturbs my thoughts. It is Penny, my manager from the florist, calling to check how I am. She reassures me my job is safe and I must only return when I am ready. As kind as her words are, I feel guilty for leaving her in a predicament, especially during prime wedding season of July and August when the florist has bookings galore. Her attempts to brush aside my concerns do not fool me and I pick up the worried undertone in her voice. I offer to contact a few of my fellow course students to see if anyone is available and would like to earn some extra money. She agrees it is great idea and I email a couple of people, copying her in to get in touch direct if of interest.

I am so engrossed in my call and subsequent email that when I glance up, I realise Harry is nowhere to be seen. His lunch plate and glass are both washed up, foamy suds still running down their surface and onto the draining board.

By the time we head to bed, I am so uptight my head is pounding. Knowing full well I am not going to get away with a second night on the sofa, I get into bed beside Harry. We both lie on our backs, side by side and staring up at the ceiling. In the stark silence, our steady breathing is the only sound between us.

Eventually, I turn onto my side to face away from him. "Night."

He sighs and I sense his frustration bouncing off my back. The bed moves as he rolls onto his side and shuffles close to spoon behind me. His arm curves around my waist and I feel all of him pushing against me.

He caresses my ear with his mouth. "We've been distant today. I am worried about you." His lips skim along my jawline and neck. His fingers trace circular patterns on my stomach. "I've missed you, Beautiful."

In anticipation, my breathing spikes but he does not notice because he is too far-gone in losing himself in me. And I need him so much that I let him carry on. Fingers tease my nipples playfully then his hand eagerly skims between my breasts, tickling across my belly button and through my fine hairs. His fingertips swirl patterns up and down my thigh. He strokes his hand between my legs, fingers pushing into my core but it hurts. There is a pause then he quickly retracts his hand with a sudden jerky motion.

I push away from him and pull my knees up to my chest tightening into a ball. "I'm sorry." I choke out.

Concern is immediately in his voice. "No, I'm sorry, too much, too soon. I wasn't thinking." He rubs my arm.

This is the moment, my cue, my opportunity. "No, it's me. I don't know what's wrong with me, Harry?"

He wraps himself around me, spooning my body again. "There's nothing wrong. You've been through so much that you just need to give yourself time. I didn't mean to push it."

Although it's dark, I slam my palms to my face to hide behind my hands. "I don't feel anything though, nothing."

"Hey!" He rolls me onto my back and pulls my hands away. "I didn't realise. Why didn't you say something? Is this why you've been quiet today and slept on the sofa last night?"

"Oh God, this is so, I can't even have this conversation." I get up and limp as fast as I can into the bathroom, slamming the door and locking it firmly behind me. Harry is hot on my heels and immediately knocking on the surface.

"Lily, come on, let me in. Please." He is jiggling the handle and pleading for me to open the door.

I open my dressing gown to look at myself. My body looks hideous. It is still bruised from the impact and seatbelt, awash with purple, green and black streaks across my chest, shoulders and collarbone. It is official. I am a dried up, bruised blob.

Harry is being persistent upon the lock and suddenly, the door bursts open and he practically falls over the threshold. I gawk open-mouthed at him as he peers up at me. A shocked look is plastered all over his face as I yank both sides of my dressing gown back over to cover me. I push him out the door and slam it back shut.

When I finally have the courage to exit, I poke my head out to check the coast is clear and Harry is fast asleep. I climb quietly into bed beside him, resting on the side of the mattress as far from him as I can get.

-*-

The smell of summer air dancing through a tiny gap in the window brings with it the unmistakable perfume of lavender. A small vase of flowers sits on my bedside table that was not there last night. A few peach roses and small daisies are interspersed with the lavender stalks. He has picked me flowers again and I smile inside at his thoughtfulness. I roll over to find his side of the bed with the covers pulled back and the space empty.

When I reach the bottom of the stairs, a glance towards the kitchen confirms his whereabouts. He is transfixed upon his laptop and it allows me time to admire him for a short time. He is so gorgeously my Handsome. I have been so consumed by my own angst that I have selfishly excluded him. Whatever he is looking at holds his attention, as he does not look up until I am at the sink.

"Morning." I offer sheepishly as I reach for a glass from the overhead cupboard and turn on the faucet to fill it with cool water. I turn around to look at him unsure about what reaction I am going to be met with but hoping the flowers are a good omen.

He barely looks up, still fully focused on his screen. "Morning, did you sleep ok?" His voice is gruffly tired.

"Ok I guess. Thank you for the flowers they are lovely. About last night, I'm so sor-."

"What? Umm, yes of course, glad you liked them." His mind has clearly taken him elsewhere.

I wander around to stand by his side. "Mind me asking what you looking at?"

He is perched on a stool with both feet tucked around the footrest. He moves one foot and relaxes his knee to the side to pull me into the space to stand in front of him, before sandwiching me in between his legs. His arm sneaks around my waist, backing me against him then his chin rests on my shoulder.

"Wow, you have lots of windows open. What is all this?" There are a few pages displayed with reams of text.

His long fingers tease the mouse pad as he clicks the cursor onto the beginning of one particular line. He reaches to the side where he has my meds lined up and grabs one bottle.

"This info leaflet is for these." He shakes the bottle and the tablets rattle inside. Then he highlights a line of text but does not read it out-loud. 'May cause loss of libido and vaginal dryness.'

My eyes go wide and I tense every muscle in my body. In response, he tightens his grip around my waist and puckers a lingering kiss on my shoulder.

"These." He taps his index finger on top of a box of pills and slides them towards us. "Is this one." He minimizes the first window to display one directly behind it before highlighting another line. 'May cause dryness and itching.'

My heads sinks forwards and I closed my eyes. "Harry, I-."

He twists me round to face him, palming my cheeks in his hands. "There is absolutely nothing wrong with you, Beautiful. Everything always has an explanation. It is a combination of your meds and the trauma you are getting over. I am sorry I got so frustrated last night, please forgive me."

My face screws up and I place the back of my hand to my face to stem the flow of threatening emotions. "There is nothing to forgive, I got myself so worked up over it. I wasn't fair on you. I am so sorry for pushing you away when I should let you in. I was just so embarrassed. I had no idea." I wave my hand towards the explanation on screen.

He wraps both his arms around my waist and holds me close, pressing his lips to mine in a quick sweet kiss. "In this together, remember."

"Yes." I nod.

"I've been naïve because I am craving you. I've missed you and I am not ashamed to admit that. I want and need to be with you but not at any cost for my own selfish desire. I want to enjoy you and you to enjoy me. I want to make you feel good and make love to you but only when you are ready and not before. Do you understand?"

"Yes. I have a few hang-ups about my body right now that is not helping. I shouldn't have kept it all from you."

He skims his fingers across my collarbone and the bruise that shines there then ducks his lips to kiss it. "You are always beautiful to me but you have to believe it yourself. These bruises on the surface will heal but you must make sure that anything you are holding inside you, you allow to heal too. Promise me."

"Thank you." I pull him to me and hug him for dear life.

"Of course, we could always, I don't know buy some lube or something." He whispers playfully in my ear. "I mean pleasure gels could be fun."

I bury my head in his neck to hide. "You sound just like Olive."

Still holding each other closely, he exclaims out loud. "You discussed this with her?"

"I had to talk to someone, she's my best friend, Harry."

He pulls away from me sporting a cute pout, his lips dark red and plumper than ever. "I want to be your best friend." He flutters his eyelashes and then smiles a full pearly white grin that looks adorable and creases his whole face up.

"You sort of are, like my best boyfriend." I reply gazing at him in complete love.

"I hope I am your only boyfriend!" He emits a full hearty snort at his joke.

I tilt my head to the side and stick my tongue out at him. Then I can barely hold onto my resolve. His hands rest on my hips lightly but protectively, his expression shows genuine concern for me, and his eyes glow with such love. I palm his cheek and he snuggles into it.

"Handsome, I lo-ike you so so much." In that exact moment, I want to say those three little words but I stop myself. Instead, I kiss him deeply and passionately so he is in no doubt about what I am not quite ready to admit out loud yet.

He swipes his nose across mine. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes, yes I do." I almost gasp out.

"Then let me make this right, will you allow me too?"

"But how, I don't know how-?"

"Shush." He pulls my chin towards him and just before he connects his lips to mine he says four reassuring words. "Just trust me, Beautiful."