Harry drives us down a strip of beaches called "30A" and we enter a segment that is just about one the cutest towns I have ever seen. Rosemary Beach is a fairly long stretch of road with cute little shops and restaurants on either side. There are sidewalks and swaying palm trees that line the roads and cut through the surprisingly green grass. There's even a little plaza that is entirely laden with white cobblestone, and as I think we're about to pass it, Harry turns into it and parks his truck near the entrance of a very tourist-friendly cobblestone street.

Confused, I look to Harry questioningly, but he just shrugs and says a nonchalant, "We're here."

"What's the plan, though?" I ask, and he chuckles softly to himself before taking the keys from the ignition and looking over to me.

"Well, our hotel is just down this street, so I thought we'd change then go to the restaurant. It's right across from it, so there's no rush," Harry smiles at me briefly before opening the door and stepping outside.

Aight, that's chill. We are staying the night, then. I suppose this is okay.

Harry opens the door for me and I grab one of my two bags, much to Harry's dismay. But no matter how strong the boy thinks he is, there simply is no way that he could carry both my things as well as his own. It's just not a thing that's going to happen, nor is it necessary. I have arms. We walk towards the hotel, and y'all, let me just say that cobblestone streets are very aesthetically pleasing, but walking on them with a heavy duffel bag is not an easy task that I particularly enjoy.

The hotel is one of the first buildings down the wide alleyway, so we don't have to walk far. It's a fairly tall building with an all white exterior and dark wooden beams and shutters. We walk in, and Harry checks us in while I stare at the spacious, well-decorated lobby. I'm gonna be honest, I was expecting more of a Hampton Inn, but this place is super nice, and I'm kind of worried about how much it's costing him. Harry can be so extra sometimes, and this is definitely one of those times.

Once we're alone in the elevator, I ask him about how much staying here is going to cost, but he shrugs it off, saying that I shouldn't worry about it. This lowkey frustrates me because feminism, you know, but I don't say anything else because ya girl is very broke from buying this formal dress for tomorrow. If he wants to pay for all of this, then he is more than welcome to. I just have to pretend to want to contribute, so I'm not too much of a gold digger.

We get to our floor and I am surprised to see that there are two queen sized beds in the middle of our very large hotel room. Not gonna lie, I would have thought that Harry would have just assumed to get one bed, seeing as guys rarely understand that they've screwed up. I guess the week long period of barely talking made him realize that we aren't entirely okay right now, thus the need for two beds. If that's the case, then this is probably the one and only instance when the silent treatment will ever work in my lifetime.

Harry shifts his bag on his shoulder and looks towards me, a nervous tension presenting itself in his expression, "Which bed do you want?"

Though I knew the question was coming, hearing him ask it makes me feel extremely disappointed. I don't want us to be so distant towards each other because honestly, it's driving me crazy, and this small separation is only making it worse. But alas, I can't rush things to be back where they were; there are things that need discussing. Therefore, I set my bag down on the floor and choose the bed by the window. Hopefully he didn't have a preference.

I change out of my leggings and sweatshirt and put on some jeans and a nicer long-sleeve shirt. Harry  exchanges his sweatshirt for a nice button down, and I can't help but smile at the fact that he genuinely does look like a Southerner preparing to go to church on a Sunday. He's not wearing the khakis, but his blue jeans are close enough.

After getting dressed, we head downstairs and out onto that cute little street again, walking no more than thirty feet until we reach the restaurant. There's barely anyone at all on the street due to the fact that it's late November, but the restaurant is surprisingly full given the time of year. We are seated upstairs atop the roof with a perfect view of the ocean and the setting sun. I don't even really mind that we're eating so early since we get to experience this beautiful scenery in front of us. It's literally like a scene straight from one of those dumb movies that Harry likes so much, and I am one hundred percent here for it.

Once the hostess leaves us, I decide that I will relay to Harry just how thankful I am that he has planned all this. This sure as hell beats however many hours it is to New Orleans crammed into a bus with a bunch of sorority and fraternity people. They're probably loud and obnoxious anyway, so honestly, skipping out on that experience for this one is one of the greatest trade deals in the history of trade deals, maybe ever.

"Harry, this is amazing," I sigh, taking in the majesty of the early evening sky. This is literally one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen in my life... you know, besides Harry. I shift my focus to him and see a very pleased smiled on his face. It's not cocky or victorious looking at all; it's just very... content. Suddenly, I realize that he is actually looking at me this way, and in turn, a blush starts to rise to my cheeks. How is it that I still get so nervous around him? It's been months since I met him, but still, when I look at him, I feel just as much shock at his beauty as I did when I saw him for the first time. It's kind of annoying actually, because I seriously doubt he thinks the same thing when he sees me.

"I'm really glad you think so," Harry says softly, reaching his hand across the white table cloth and resting it against the surface with his palm exposed. I stare at his hand for a few seconds before gripping it gently in my own and looking up at him expectantly for what he is about to say next. Though he seems to be somewhat at peace right now, probably due to the relaxing atmosphere, there is evidently something on Harry's mind, and I think he might just be planning to share it with me.

Harry continues, fixing his green eyes on me with that intimidatingly intense stare of his, "I know you probably think that I'm trying to keep you from my friends by bringing you here."

Ha, you got that right buddy, but I wasn't thinking about it until now, so thanks for that unpleasant reminder.

"But I really don't want you to think that." There seems to be an earnest look in his eyes, and I can't help but think that I am about to unquestioningly believe whatever he tells me. Damn those eyes and that voice of his that enchants me to abandon all reason; it's really becoming problematic. "I brought you here because I wanted to try to make it up to you for not telling you about formal. I know I made excuses the other night, but it really doesn't matter what the reason was, because keeping that from you was really, really shitty of me, and I'm really sorry."

When the words leave his mouth, my insides do a mini celebration dance because this boy fucking gets it! He's apologizing, he's not making excuses, and I didn't even bring up the fact that I was upset about something for him to do it. Maybe we'll even get to maturely discuss the other shit too.

"Will– um, will you forgive me?" Harry looks at me uncertainly, and my heart does a little flutter in my chest at how there seems to be a bit of desperation in his voice and expression. This can't just be a game to him like with the girls John told me about; if it were, why would he be laying aside his pride like he is right now? I'm pretty sure people don't do that unless they really care about something or someone.

"I'm not going to pretend it didn't really upset me, because it did, but there's no sense in holding it against you." I smile and squeeze his hand gently in mine. "So yes, I forgive you."

I still kind of want to know why he kept it from me though, just because I really do think that might help solve my paranoia problems. Either that, or it'll justify all those times I felt like he was hiding something and I'll end up being really hurt and confused. But hey, it needs to happen and now seems like a pretty good time to discuss everything since we're already speaking so freely with each other.

Just as I am about to ask Harry about why he kept the formal thing from me, our waitress walks up and introduces herself. Harry orders our drinks rather curtly and she leaves us just about as quickly as she had arrived.

"Harry, can I ask you something?"

Harry looks at me with a rather nervous gleam in his green eyes, but he nods nonetheless, allowing me to finally voice the uncertainty I've been feeling during the last few weeks.

"Um, I know you said you were trying to protect me or whatever when you didn't tell me about it, but what's the real reason?" Harry sucks in a sharp breath, and I can practically feel his discomfort radiating off of him. That's not good. "I don't want you to feel like I'm interrogating you, but for my own sanity, I'd kind of like to know. I won't be mad, I promise."

A few moments pass before Harry anxiously moves to say something, "Look, if I tell you, please don't think badly of me. I'm not that person anymore."

Well, shit. That's not very encouraging at all.

I nod hesitantly as that feeling of really intense worry begins to rise in my chest again. I hate this sensation so much because it stresses me the hell out, but as of late, it's been an ever-present companion of mine. Here's to hoping Harry can make it go away at least for a little bit.

"Well, I, uh, I'm sure John's outed me to you already, but I used to be a real asshole."

I don't know what makes me do it, but I raise my brow and tease him, "used to be?"

Harry rolls his eyes and fights a nervous smile, but continues with a little more confidence than before, "Well, worse than I am now. I hate myself for it, but I used to be one of those guys that just played games with all the girls that would show interest in them. My friends would make bets on how quickly one would tell me she loved me, and then once she did, that would be the end of it. I would move on to the next one without a second thought, and I was okay with it."

Okay, that is terrible. Having one night stands is one thing, but messing with someone over their love for you is something entirely different. Frankly, that's just cruel, and I'm beginning to see just why Harry was keeping it from me. It makes me nervous to think he could do something like that with so little thought; as someone who has fallen for Harry, I can't help but wonder if he is going to do the same thing to me.

A panicked expression seems to seize Harry's face as he looks at me, "I really just didn't want you to be around them because I was afraid–"

Harry stops himself from continuing, but I urge him to just go for it, "You were afraid of what?"

Our waitress returns with our drinks before Harry can respond, and she tells us the specials then asks us if we have any questions about the menu. It is now that I realize I haven't even looked at it yet. This is somewhat odd for me, seeing as how food is one of my passions in life and reading menus just feeds that passion. It's like reading an interesting book, but like, just about food.

"Is it alright if I just pick a few things for us?" Harry asks me and I nod, knowing that he's been here before and he knows what's good. Apparently, you're supposed to pick a bunch of small plates to share, so you get a more complete sampling of items. I guess that's cool, but I don't know how I feel about sharing my dinner. But enough about food, I need this waitress to leave so we can continue this discussion.

Harry orders four plates along with a bottle of red wine, and to my surprise, the waitress doesn't even ask to see my ID before she brings us the bottle and two wine glasses. She seems somewhat mesmerized by Harry, so I guess that's why it slipped her mind.

When she finally leaves, Harry pours me a glass of wine and looks at me inquisitively, "Where were we?"

I take the glass from Harry as he holds it out to me, "You we're saying you were afraid of something?"

Harry nods in acknowledgement with a sigh of apprehension, "Oh, right... Well, honestly, I was afraid they would tell you about all the shit I've done and scare you away. I didn't want you to think that you were just another part of the game, because you aren't."

If it were socially acceptable to run to the edge of this rooftop and sing at the top of my lungs, I fucking would because this is literally the very thing I wanted to talk about. And what's more than just talking about it, Harry is being so candid with me that I really do believe him. He's not pretending to be perfect or anything like that, so I think he genuinely is telling the truth about his reasons for keeping me in the dark.

I do wonder, though, whether or not the end of his games came about before me or because of me. If it's the latter of the two, then that's definitely going to scare me. That would mean that there's still some character development in Harry to be made, and that's one thing that I sure as hell will not be a part of. I've always hated it when girls think they can change their man, because it usually ends badly for both parties.

"When did the games stop?" I ask him, a little more timidly than I intended. I'm honestly scared to hear the answer, because it kind of has the potential to change things between us.

Harry tenses momentarily and I take the opportunity to take a sip of the wine in an effort to calm my nerves. I know I said earlier that I shouldn't have any alcohol tonight, but I think just one glass of this will be okay. Besides, if Harry is about to tell me that it started out as a game and then he fell for me, blah blah blah, then I sure as hell am going to need this wine.

"Well, I'd say it started around the middle of last year."

Okay, I can work with that time frame.

"There was this girl that said she liked me, and I don't know, as I spent more time with her, I began to realize just what the fuck I was doing." Harry sighs and brings his own glass to his lips before continuing, evidently still nervous about what he's going to say. "You're going to laugh at me, but I, uh, I was virgin when I met her."

I nearly spit out my wine. He was a what, now?

"I know." Harry forces a small laugh at my bewildered expression. "There's a whole story there that I won't get into, but yeah, she was my first time, and it wasn't at all what it should have been."

A pang of jealousy surges through me at the thought of Harry with someone else, even though his actual story is much less terrible than the one I had allowed myself to believe. I should be thankful that it's one girl instead of fifty, but because I'm ridiculously in love with him, I guess it feels just as bad.

But still, what the fuck? All this time, I've been thinking that he was some Christian Grey type of guy who fucks like an animal or something. It's kind of comical, actually, that he's just about as inexperienced as I am. But as ironic as it is, I don't smile at him due to the regretful look on his handsome face.

Harry frowns as he continues, a gleam of sadness infiltrating his normally bright eyes, "She actually ended up playing me kind of like I had played the other girls. I thought she cared about me, but she didn't, which sucked for a long time. After that, I just decided not to mess around with someone's emotions ever again, because I learned that it fucking hurts when someone you love uses you."

He loved her? Despite my best efforts to keep away my insanity, I have the sudden urge to hunt her down and pull out her hair. To be completely honest though, I can't say if this desire is because of my anger towards her for hurting him or my jealousy over the fact that he has loved someone other than me. The second of those options is ridiculous, I know, but I'm feeling some things right now so it's kind of justified.

"Please say something," Harry says quietly, interrupting my thoughts. I deadass have no earthly idea of what to say to him right now. Part of me hates who Harry was, part of me is too shocked by Harry's confession about his being a virgin until last year, and the last part of me feels bad that that bitch broke his heart the way she did. So I really just don't fucking know.

"I honestly don't know to say," I shrug, looking into my wine glass to avoid his stare.

There are too many thoughts in my rattled brain to begin to express anything. I'm not mad, but I'm also not completely at ease either. This conversation has definitely enlightened me in a lot of ways, and there are a lot of paranoid thoughts that have been put to rest, but still, I'm a little nervous. Though I don't think I would tell him any time soon, I know that I am in love with Harry, and I'm honestly more terrified of that fact than I was before. Harry said I'm not a part of his game, but knowing that he is capable of making a mockery of someone's feelings really puts me on edge because what if he does it to me?

With a frown, Harry leans forward and clasps his hands in front of him, "I get it if you need some time to think about all this; I know it's a lot. But before you dwell on it for too long, I really want you to know that all of that was behind me by the time I met you. I'm still learning how to navigate a proper relationship, but I swear that this thing between us is real. I would never treat you, or anyone, like I did before; I care about you too damn much to even think about doing that."

I hate myself for how easily Harry can obliterate any determination I ever have to think rationally through things, but I genuinely can't help how my heart melts with his words. It's like he can read my mind about what concerns I'm having and he's just making them all irrelevant in one go. I know I should probably consider things more, but what he has just said to me has pretty much eased every fear of mine. He's not a project where I'm going to have to try and make him into a decent human, he's not using me for his own entertainment, and he cares about me. That's just about all I need to know about honestly.

I surprise myself by laughing softly, and Harry looks up at me in confusion. "How is it that you do that?"

Harry cocks his head to the side, "Do what?"

I scoff playfully, "I don't know; sometimes you say literally the perfect thing." Harry seems encouraged by my praise of him, and I can see just a little bit of his fear and apprehension begin to melt away.

"Clearly, that's not true," Harry smirks, and I can't help but admire how that little dimple pops out in his cheek. "If it were, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"I suppose you're right; I'm glad we're having it though," I smile. "I'm not gonna lie, I've kind of been stressing out about this for a while now."

Harry seems surprised. "What? Like before last weekend?"

I nod and hesitantly decide to just be open with him, "Yeah... You were right about John telling me about your reputation, and I know it's stupid, but I've been really paranoid about it. I was worried I was just the next victim, but then you took me to your parents' house and I started to let myself think that I was just being ridiculous for doubting you."

"I wish I had known," Harry says softly, his face falling just a bit. "I hate that my stupidity has been causing you unnecessary concern; that's not fair to you at all."

I can't help but laugh, "Yeah, well, I was too chicken to ask about it, so it's not all on you. I really don't why I couldn't just suck it up and be an adult about it."

"Well, you are only nineteen," Harry smiles warmly, and I can feel the lightheartedness of our normal dynamic returning to us. "But I get it; bringing up stuff like this isn't easy, and it probably won't ever be. Regardless though, I want you to know that if you ever have something that's bothering you, you can talk to me about it."

"I know," I sigh, shifting my eyes to my wine and swirling it around in the glass. "It's not exactly that I thought you wouldn't receive it well or anything; I just struggle with starting a difficult conversation."

"Hey," Harry says gently but firmly, and I look up to see him staring rather intently at me. "You're not alone in that. I don't like it either, but it's just something we're going to have to learn to do together." Suddenly, Harry looks as if he has said something wrong, and he begins rambling, his voice more unsure and sad sounding than I have ever heard it in my life, "I– I don't want to assume anything, but I mean, that's only if you, uh, you decide that you still want to be with me."

This boy, my heart screams at me to put him out of his suffering. But like I've said before, Harry nervous and vulnerable makes me feel like he really does care about me, so I'm kind of loving this right now. I mean, obviously, I'm not going to break up with him over this, but the fact that he thinks that I would is kind of encouraging. It says to me that he realizes that in order for this to work, he's going to have to put in effort. I like that about him; he's not taking this for granted, and I honestly think that it's a really good indication of a potentially amazing relationship. We both know that we're going to have to put in the effort for this to work, and I'm pretty sure we're both willing to actually go through with it, too.

"Harry, don't be ridiculous. Of course I still want to be with you; I lo—" I stop myself, because I'm pretty sure I was about to tell him that I love him, which is not at all in the plan. I'd like to keep that one to myself for a bit longer, especially now. "I mean, I care about you too much to let your past change my opinion of you."

What the fuck, brain? I thought we agreed we would not be mentioning the L-word to Harry any time soon, and yet, here you are, trying to sneak your way into the conversation. Not fucking cool.

Glancing up at Harry, I see that his eyes are somewhat wider than usual and he seems to have this generally stunned look about him. He almost appears like he has had the breath taken from his lungs entirely, and with that look, I'm pretty sure he knows exactly what I was about to say. Harry opens his mouth to speak, but the waitress comes back with our food in hand before he manages to say a word. I may have wanted her gone last time, but now, I'm highkey dreading the moment she leaves. Because when she does, I have the feeling that we're about to talk about some real shit, and I sure as hell am not ready for it.

•••

So sorry for the late update, but this part is really long and I was trying to make it just right so hopefully I succeeded in that

Y'all, I'm really pumped bc I'm making brownies tomorrow and these shits are like straight fudge with sea salt and peanut butter. It is the GREATEST 10/10 would recommend.

Also, can we talk about Harry's Seattle shirt?? I link it above but I know some of y'all already know what I'm talking about like the black sparking sheerness wOW I DIED YOU COULD SEE HIS BACK AND HIS CHEST TATTOOS

aight that's enough of that! I just wanted to say a huge thank you to everyone reading! You for real have no idea how much you all mean to me like I get so excited every time I get a vote/comment or even just another read. Even my ghost readers, ily y'all are the greatest too!!

-Kate❤️ (sorry for such a long (a/n) I got excited)