Felicity

"You're shivering. Put your jacket back on."

"It's cold, Harry. Of course I'm shivering. Just give me a second to fix my sleeves."

"I don't like to see you cold. You're going to get sick."

"No I'm not."

"Yes, you are. Take your jacket."

I roll my eyes at Harry and grab my coat from his hand. "Fine. You're like my mom ... Ow! What was that for?"

"I'm not your mom," he pouts his bottom lip after he pinches me, continuing to walk down the street.

"You're acting like it. Asswipe."

"Shut up, pickle juice."

I instantly stop walking as the realization of his words hit me. Staring at him with a brow raised, I do my best to hold in the laughter that is dying to come out. Harry stops walking a few steps ahead of me, turning around to look back with a confused expression.

"Pickle juice?" I hiccup a giggle as he rolls his eyes at me. "What kind of insult is that?"

"A brilliant one," Harry folds his arms over his chest and cocks his hip out to the side. The sight in front of me is just too funny not to laugh. "Pickle juice is disgusting and no one likes it. I've compared you to pickle juice."

"What if I actually like pickle juice? That's a pretty crappy insult now, isn't it?"

He draws his brows together and frowns, as if he didn't realize that could most certainly be a possibility. "All that matters is that I don't like pickle juice."

"Okay ... douche nozzle," I start walking again, brushing right past him as I continue down the street.

Harry bursts out in laughter, throwing his head back and closing his eyes in pure amusement. He takes a few quick steps to catch up to me. "What on earth is a douche nozzle? That sounds ridiculous."

"I don't know. A friend of mine used to say it all the time. I guess I picked it up from him."

I adjust the green beanie on my head before Harry wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me close. He's still chuckling to himself, shaking his head and repeating the words douche nozzle in every possible way, imitating as many people as he can think of. I have to admit it's kind of funny but I don't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing me laugh.

The two of us just finished our breakfast at some tiny diner down the street from our hotel. The concierge in the lobby recommended it to us, and even though it might not have been the most amazing place to eat, it was actually pretty delicious. At least, my french toast was delicious. Harry's omelet on the other hand ... not so much. He felt the same way as he picked off my plate rather than eating off his own.

The diner was small and cute and had to have been fifty years old. Wallpaper was peeling on nearly every square foot of space on the walls, the seats in the booths were a little torn up, and the linoleum flooring was a hideous pattern from the 1970s. The way everything looked so worn out, mixed with the truly ugly decor, surprisingly made the whole place feel very cozy. The atmosphere was great. I'm sure all the staff have been working there together for years, if not since the diner opened up.

Harry and I had been seated in a booth at the back of the dining floor. At first I felt isolated from everyone else in the diner, but it turned out to be a good thing because the two of us were very loud and annoying with all of our laughter and friendly banter. The other customers around us kept staring and there was a little old lady that scowled in our direction every time Harry laughed too loud. Even our waitress seemed irritated to have to deal with us, which I wasn't sure why. We were never rude to her, but I suppose she found us obnoxious. I almost felt bad for everyone around us but I was having too much fun to actually care.

I'm not sure what caused a change in our interactions, but Harry and I seem to get along so much better than we did just yesterday. We tease each other a lot more, we make a few slightly insulting jokes at one another and we just can't seem to stop smiling at the other. I think there was an awkwardness between us before. Neither of us knew exactly where to draw the line with conversation topics and both of us were a little hesitant on certain subjects in case one of us was ultra sensitive. Now, it's like we talk about anything and everything.

Except for that thing that happened yesterday.

I don't think either of us is ready to talk about it or acknowledge that there was something there. I thought that maybe I imagined it, but after speaking with him this morning when I came back from the airport, I know for sure that he must have felt something as well.

The two of us walk the few blocks down to the Gateway Arch, braving the cold in our winter gear. The walk itself isn't too bad, it's the harsh wind and cold air that makes it worse. I don't know why Harry liked this green beanie in the first place. The wind blows right through it in certain places and doesn't keep my head that warm. Although, with his arm around my shoulders as we walk, I don't really care to think about complaining about a hat. The only thing on my mind is how tightly he holds onto me and how much of his cologne I can smell. It makes me want to melt on the spot, but the outside temperature makes sure that doesn't happen.

As we finally reach the Arch, Harry and I stare at the monument in awe. The stainless steel panels that make up the entire Arch are massive, causing me to feel extremely small in size. The sun reflects off the monument and the light glares directly at my eyes. We stand in the middle of a gigantic field as we admire what's in front of us.

"Wow. I never thought I'd actually see this thing up close," Harry says as he stares up at the top of the Arch, his mouth open in amazement.

"It's incredible."

He lowers his head and rolls it around, stretching out his neck. "It really is. I wonder how they made it."

"If we go into the museum, I'm sure we'll find out."

Harry nods as he drops his arm from my shoulders. I watch as he reaches out for my hand, my heartbeat beginning to pump faster within my chest. He brushes against my sleeve before he seems to come to a realization of what he's doing, quickly pulling his hand back and acting as if he's shaking something off his sleeve. His cheeks grow pink and he looks too embarrassed to make eye contact with me. Eventually he places his hand at my upper back and guides me toward one of the Arch entrances.

We argue at the ticketing booth about which admission to purchase. I want to go all the way to the top of the Arch, but Harry doesn't feel the same. The ticketing lady rolls her eyes at us as we can't agree on anything. Finally I tell him that I'm going to the top while he can wait at the bottom until I'm done, to which he shakes his head and motions for the lady to charge his credit card for two tickets to the top. When I look over at him in surprise, he rolls his eyes and claims that there's no way he would let me travel to something so high off the ground on my own.

The two of us walk through a security checkpoint before we go underground into the museum. There are lines of people everywhere and historical photos and statues with an accompanying description. We read all the walls and take in everything around us. There's a short documentary about the construction and completion of the Arch that we both sit down and watch. Harry's eyes are glued to the screen in fascination, and I can't help but smile as I have someone with me that is so interested in what we're doing.

By the time we get through the line for the elevator ride that takes us to the top, Harry is on the verge of a panic attack. Maybe he's claustrophobic, and the fact that we have to sit in a tiny pod-type elevator doesn't help him one bit. I continuously ask if he's okay and if he's certain he wants to do this, but he waves me off every time and nods his head.

Catching me by surprise, as we sit in the little elevator pod, he reaches over and takes a hold of my hand. He laces his fingers with mine and squeezes tight, staring at the floor as his leg subtly bounces up and down. He's fidgety and nervous, but the moment he holds my hand, it's as if he calms down almost entirely.

Holding his hand is ... strange. I know it's only to comfort him, but it feels like a lot more than that. I kind of don't want to let go. This feels right, the way my hand seems to fit perfectly in his. It's like they were made for each other. I look up at Harry to see him staring down at our hands, a hesitantly soft smile across his lips. He doesn't notice me watching him as he closes his eyes and leans back in his seat.

The ride to the top is over sooner than I expect, and as I let go of Harry's hand, a brief frown appears on his face. The top of the Arch is a long and slightly narrow room with nothing but tiny slivers of windows and a low ceiling. We're surrounded by lots of people with their families and loud children. I find one of the small rectangular windows that isn't being occupied by anyone else and walk over to it.

The view from the Arch is breathtaking. I can see the entire city and both the baseball and football stadiums. The capital building is right below us and there are so many buildings that come into view. It all looks like a little toy city that I can just pick up as easily as a Lego piece. As I turn around to point something out to Harry, I realize he's not standing beside me.

Harry stands in the middle of the room with a look of pure regret written all over his face. He barely glances at any of the windows as his eyes are trained on one of the signs that notes we are 630 feet above ground. He almost looks as if he's going to turn green, so I quickly walk over to him.

"Are you okay?"

He shuts his eyes and quickly nods his head. "Yeah. I'm good."

"Come to the window with me. It's amazing what you can see from here."

He shakes his head as his eyes open up immediately. "No thank you. I can see perfectly right here."

I raise a brow at him as I tilt my head to the side. I think his behavior is all starting to make a little more sense.

"Are you scared of heights?"

"I didn't say that."

"You don't have to. Your actions say it for you," I bite my lip as he doesn't say anything else. "Come on. It's really not that bad."

"I'm just going to stand right here."

"Are you serious?"

"Didn't you hear the tour guide in the elevator say that the Arch sways a little once the winds reach a certain miles per hour? I can feel it moving right now. We are all going to die in this thing, and I don't need to look down at the city to remind myself of just how far we're going to fall."

"You're being a little dramatic, don't you think?" I exhale a breath and step closer. "Will it help if I hold your hand?"

Harry stares at me for a long time, probably trying to process what I've said to him. It almost looks as if he's trying to read my face for something I'm not sure of. He starts to glance back and forth between me and the city outside of the window. It's becoming a little more obvious that he's internally debating on whether or not he really wants to see the view up close. I reach my hand out to him, giving him an encouraging smile. Eventually he looks down at my hand before slowly lacing his fingers with mine.

His palms are a little sweaty as I lead him over to the window. We stand side by side, leaning against the ledge with our hands held tightly together. I admit that I tease him a few times about being scared, all of which earn me the unhappiest of glares.

Even though he was so intrigued by the documentary and everything else downstairs, Harry doesn't care at all about being at the top of the Arch. We don't stay at the top for long as I can see how uncomfortable he is being here. He only came up to keep me company, which I think is incredibly sweet of him. He's less fidgety as we ride the elevator pod back down to the ground floor and I'm unsure if it's because we're descending or if it's because he still hasn't let go of my hand.

When we reach ground level, Harry is the first out of the pod as he drags me right behind him. He's back to normal as his feet are now on solid ground and I think I hear him exhale a sigh of relief.

We walk into the gift shop and after several arguments about whether or not he should buy me something he finally convinces me to pick out a keychain. He makes a quick walk around the shop before picking out a shirt for himself and putting our items on the cashier's counter. Once he pays for our souvenirs, he hands me the gift bag.

"They're both yours."

"What? The shirt is yours."

A triumphant smile crawls across his lips as we walk out of the monument. "I didn't buy it in my size, so it's not going to fit me. It's yours now."

"You did that on purpose."

He shrugs his shoulders as a smug look takes over his facial features. I roll my eyes at him and laugh. As much as I would protest him buying anything for me, I do find it charming and adorable that he did.

We walk back to our hotel in the cold, holding our jackets tighter and nearly running from street to street. The wind is painful and our hands are frozen. We quickly stop into a tiny coffee shop to warm up and grab a hot drink, mainly for my hands to hold.

The two of us order hot chocolates and sip them as we start to walk again. Harry attempts to point something out to me, knocking my drink out of my hand in the process. The cup nearly explodes when it hits the cement, the lid flying across the sidewalk as the drink flows everywhere. The look of surprise and shame on Harry's face is evident, and he can't seem to stop apologizing for the accident. I stop him from running back to the coffee shop to purchase another one, to which he huffs out in frustrated embarrassment until I agree to take his instead. It really isn't a big deal, but he feels really bad about it.

When we get back to the room, I toss the now empty hot chocolate cup into the trash and sit down on the bed. I'm in the middle of peeling off all the layers of clothing I have on when I hear my phone begin to ring. I don't think much about it until I see Colton's name flashing across the screen, causing my stomach to drop.

"Oh god."

Harry looks over at me with concern as he tosses his beanie into his duffle bag. "What's wrong?"

I hold my phone up for him to see. "I completely forgot to call him earlier."

"What are you going to say?"

"I don't know," I feel a sense of panic begin to rise within my body, and I think Harry notices as he steps over to me and holds my hand.

"Hey, relax. It'll be fine. If you can't bring yourself to tell him the truth, just find a way to blame it on me. I'll take the fall for you."

"I can't blame you, that's not right."

"Wouldn't it be better if he's mad at me and not you?"

"He will be mad at me regardless."

"Then tell him the truth."

"That won't work!"

My phone stops ringing as I realize I missed the call. I stare down at the device, feeling scared that it's going to start ringing again.

I have no idea what I'm going to say to Colton. I can't tell him the truth that I didn't want to get on the flight. Honesty is not the best policy in this particular case. He's not going to like the fact that I have more fun with Harry than I do with him, and if I do tell him this truth, he's going to go on accusing me again of sleeping with Harry. Although, maybe coming dangerously close to kissing him is just as bad. I don't even want to know how he'll react if he ever found out about that.

I also can't just blame Harry for not getting on the flight. Just because he tells me I can, doesn't mean I should ... right? I would feel bad for placing all the blame on him, even if he says it's okay.

"You didn't answer it," Harry says as he tosses his coat onto the mattress.

"I didn't know what to say."

My phone begins ringing again, the jingle piercing through the silence in the room. After this trip, I'm going to have to change my ringtone to something that won't give me nightmares. With a shaking hand, I slowly answer the phone. This is a really, really bad idea.

"H-hi, Colton."

"Why didn't you answer the first time?"

"I, uh. I didn't hear my phone."

"Of course you didn't," I can hear the irritation in his voice as he speaks. If he were standing in front of me now I'd be able to see the unhappy look upon his face as he rolls his eyes. That specific image is enough to send me into a downward spiral. "Where are you? I'm driving by the terminal."

"Oh. Um. I need to-"

"Are you outside? Come on, Felicity. I don't have all day to wait for you at the fucking airport. I do have shit to do as well."

Harry reaches his hand out for me to hold, looking down at me as if to let me know he's here for comfort if I need him. It takes me a minute to decide whether or not I want to accept his offer, but after I hear Colton lay on the car horn and shout profanities at other drivers in the background, I immediately grab Harry's hand.

"I didn't get-"

"Where are you?" Colton interrupts me again. "I don't see you. Did you even walk outside? I told you I'm not here to wait all day. Get the fu-"

"Colton! Stop talking over me and let me finish what I have to say!" I surprise both myself and Harry as I nearly shout into the phone. I've never raised my voice like this at Colton, and I'm almost terrified of how he's going to react.

"What the fuck do you need to say that can't wait until you're in the car?"

I hesitate for a moment, feeling nervous and anxious to speak. But as I feel Harry give me a light squeeze of my hand, I feel a little more confidence to speak the truth.

"Well ... for starters, I'm still in St. Louis."

The line goes silent for a solid ten seconds before I hear Colton exhale a very frustrated, very angry breath. "Are you fucking serious? What the hell is wrong with you?! You don't get on a flight and you don't even bother to tell me?"

"I honestly forgot to tell you."

"How do you just forget? I spent over three hundred dollars on that ticket."

"I'm really sorry, truly. It's just-"

"What the fuck!" He cuts me off as I hear him bang his fist on the steering wheel. "I called you beforehand! You were on your way to the fucking airport! You said you'd see me in a few hours! How do you go from that to not getting on the damn plane and not telling me about it?"

"I was scared! It's hard to talk to you!" I can feel my voice beginning to break as I stare at the carpeted floor. Harry lets go of my hand and wraps his arms around my body. My head is pressed against his chest as I hold the phone to my ear. How bad do I look as I talk on the phone with my boyfriend while finding comfort in another man's arms? "I didn't know what to do because I was scared, and I needed time to think about what I was going to say."

"Well now you've wasted my time and you're wasting your own time. Get back to the airport and get on a later flight. I can't believe you'd be so stupid as to-"

"Please don't raise your voice at me," I nervously say as I feel about two feet tall due to this conversation.

"I'll do whatever the fuck I want. You can't tell me what to do."

I straighten up my posture as his words actually start to make me angry. "And you can't tell me what to do either! I can make my own decisions. I'm having fun exploring new cities, even if it's with someone that isn't you, and I'm not going to let you tell me to leave."

"Do you hear yourself? You sound like an idiot."

"No, you're the one that sounds like an idiot! You throw profanities left and right as if that makes me want to listen to you at all, and you boss me around without a care for how I might feel about it. I don't like it."

"You act like you don't do anything that I don't like," Colton scoffs. "So here's the deal. Either you get on a plane to Los Angeles within the next twenty-four hours or you find yourself somewhere else to stay whenever you decide to get here because my place will not be open to you. Make your decision quick and let me know."

He hangs up the phone just a fraction of a second after his last sentence. I'm so frustrated with him that I pull away from Harry and toss my phone onto the bed.

I'm nervous and irritated and apprehensive and angry. A mix of emotions courses through my body as I stand in the room. I've never spoken to Colton like that. I've never been so rude and honest. Actually, I've always thought I'd been honest with him but this made me realize I really haven't. I hate when he curses at me and demands that I do things with his highest expectations riding on my shoulders. I guess I never thought about it until now. I never realized that I actually hate it.

Now I have an ultimatum laid out in front of me: either I get to LA as soon as possible and things go back to how they were, or I don't show up within these twenty-four hours and I have to find somewhere else to stay. As much as I don't want to get there so soon, I also don't want to be left without a place to sleep. I might be able to convince my parents to help me out with paying for a hotel room, but my mom would be furious with me for putting myself in a situation where I don't have a place to stay.

Is it possible I'm digging myself a hole that I'll never be able to get out of? Would it be smarter for me to just get on a flight to California?

Harry clears his throat to break the silence and grab my attention. "So ... that was an interesting conversation."

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Is he pissed?"

"Of course."

"I have to be honest," Harry scratches the back of his head as he nervously looks around the room. "Your confidence ... the way you stood up for yourself ... that was pretty damn hot."

My cheeks burn red at his statement. I don't know how that one measly sentence can make me feel so fluttery inside. He flashes me a smirk as he sees the effect of his words.

That connection that the two of us once shared yesterday slowly makes a reappearance. It's not as strong nor is it as prominent, but I can feel it beginning to form between us. Harry is starting to have this weird effect on me, one that makes me feel all kinds of emotions. The way he looks at me makes my insides nearly melt. My heart jumps when he holds my hand. I feel relaxed and at ease when he holds me close. Whatever is happening, it's like I can't get enough of it. I love the way I feel when I spend time with him, and I love the person I become when I'm around him.