The wedding

A babysitter had been recruited (one of my great Uncles) and Harrison, Brandon, Harriet and I were let off the hook again. I was incredibly glad to hear this news, as I was despairing over how I would be able to be in the same room, as Harrison or Harriet. 

I managed (just about) to get over the trauma of wearing a dress. As I went downstairs, I was stopped by Harriet, "Mol! I'm so sorry! I don't like Harrison, honestly! I just want our friendship back to the way it was!" I smiled, properly, for the first time that day, "It's okay. It wasn't your fault. I miss you too." We hugged, before heading downstairs to the wedding. I know that Harriet didn't mean it, anyway. I'm angry at Harrison, and not her so much.

My Aunt just about managed to stammer through her wedding vows, without bursting into happy tears. (I'm not 100% sure how to burst into happy tears, but everyone else at the wedding seemed to be succeeding pretty well at it, and if half my family can burst into tears it's gotta be pretty easy, right?!?!) Finally, the formal part of the wedding was over. *Sighs of relief all round* and the party began.

I don't know what a flash mob looks like, but seeing all my friends and relatives pour down the streets of Cala Bona has got to be close to the actual image... Seriously, it was unbelievable, everyone who had come for the wedding, was coming down the street.

Is it legal for people who weren't invited to join in, because, by the time we got to the beach, I could definitely see a few people who I didn't recognise. I managed to avoid Harrison all the way down to the beach, but I could see him trying to work his way through the crowds towards me.

It was nearing midnight, which meant that if Harrison didn't know what I love the most, soon, then we wouldn't be able to get back together. I know I could just extend the time limit, but I'm not like that. And there's a small voice inside me, whispering to me, that if he really cared, he would know what I love the most. That's what's keeping me from forgiving him.

I spent the night with Harriet, dancing like crazy, talking, laughing, and, more to the point, enjoying myself far more than I had the past few days. When it was a minute until midnight, my watch beeped. ( Yes, I know, I'm a control freak, I can't live without my watch..) and I made my way over to Harrison.

"So. Have you figured it out?" I asked. Harrison didn't answer.  He doesn't know. He doesn't know. He doesn't know.

I turned, and, taking off my sandals,  so that I could move quicker, I ran down the beach, and away from the wedding. "Molly!" I heard Harrison yell from behind me. "Wait!" I think he expected me to wait for him. Maybe a few days ago, I might have.

I kept running, not looking back. I didn't want to know if he was following me, or not. I didn't know which one I would prefer: to see him running after me or to know that he didn't even care enough as a friend. 

At the end of the day, that was all he was. Not a best friend, or a boyfriend, or somebody who cares. He's just a friend who left me when I needed him most.

It's a shame that I don't try harder in PE, really, because, sadly, I underestimated Harrison's running speed. After about fifteen minutes of running, he caught up with me. "Molly!" he yelled, running up to where I was sitting. "I'm sorry, I.. just didn't think when I kissed Harriet.."

"You know that I don't care about that, right?"
"You don't?" Harrison looked astonished.
" Well, that's not strictly true, I do care, but you've hurt me more before. Like by moving to the other side of the world. Literally! I care that you came back from Australia when Alex asked, and you didn't come when me your best friend needed you. And the fact that you don't know what I love most. The fact that you don't care enough." I told him, for once looking straight at him. "It hurts," I whispered. "You know what I love most?"
"What?"
"Spending time with you."

Harrison's eyes widened. "Molly, I'm so sorry, I didn't want to leave to go to Australia. I thought you'd forgotten that I existed when you didn't answer my phone calls. I thought that you were too mad at me still. And I didn't think that you still cared that much, about me, after I kissed somebody else."

"I thought that you didn't care when you didn't call. Sorry."
"Good thing that I don't live in your imagination, then. And of course  I care."
"What does that mean?" I asked.
"What?"
"Good thing that I don't live in your imagination then," I answered. 

I wide grin spread across Harrison's face, "I just outsmarted you!" he teased, "It means, that, if I lived in your imagination, what you think about me not caring would be true. And it's good that I don't live in your imagination, because otherwise, it wouldn't be considered normal that I cared."
"It's not," I told him.
He winced. "I deserve that, I know. But, please, Molly. Can you just give me some time to make it up to you? Please? To show that I do care?"