Page 80 of Meant to Be

When silence meets my ears, my throat is bone dry. I shouldn’t have listened to it. I know how he is, why did I expose myself to it?

There’s a rustle outside my window and everything inside me stills. I barely breathe as I hear footsteps. I scramble to my feet, turning on all the lights. I rush to the door, to check if it’s locked, when I see the dark hair of Harley. His electric eyes peer at me through the glass, his lips wet, a near-empty bottle of whisky in his hand.

“Josie,” he mumbles, pressing heavily into the door. “Did I scare you?”

“Yes,” I hiss, unlocking the door and swinging it open, my heart jack-knifing painfully in my chest. Considering he was leaning on it, he topples over in a mess of long legs and dark clothing. He rolls onto his back, grinning.

“Hey.”

“Harley, what the fuck?” I demand. “What are you doing here? And drunk, might I add?”

He holds up his thumb and pointer finger, holding them together so that they were only millimetres apart. “Just a wee bit tipsy.”

I scoff. “Yeah, right. Get up.”

Using the wall, he eventually gets to his feet. His eyes land on my bare legs,and I realise then that I’m only in a white t-shirt, which is clinging to me because of sweat.

He gulps. “You look fucking fantastic.”

A flush burns through me, and I fold my arms over my breasts. Words like that from a boy like him would have consumed me with delight once upon a time.

Yeah …a snide voice in my mind jabs at me.Once upon a time.

“What do you want?”

He reaches for my arm and steers me to the lounge. He lightly pushes me so that I collapse onto it. He moves my coffee table out of the way and drops to his knees.

“Why do you look like you’re about to propose?” I deadpan.

“Josie,” he says, one hand held dramatically in the air, his other over his chest. “I may have had to get roaring drunk to do this, but I truly mean it.”

“Thought you were a ‘wee bit tipsy’?”

“Shh.” He holds a finger over his lips. “Let me speak.”

I press my lips together and lean back into the lounge.

“Josie Mayor.” He hiccups my name and blinks a few times. “You were the best thing to happen to me, and I fucked it up.” My breath catches in my throat as his eyes bore into mine. “You didn’t deserve what happened to you. That part of the night is a blur … I don’t remember … It doesn’t matter now. It’s all pathetic excuses. I just want you to not hate me.”

I blink at him in silence.

“That’s it,” he says. “That’s what I wanted to say.”

“Well,” I say, still not sure how to react. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

He moves closer to me, still on his knees, and places his hands on my bare thighs. My heart surges in my chest, and I clamp my knees together.

“Do you forgive me?” he asks. His eyes are desperate. His hands are warm. The stench of whisky fills the space between us.

“No,” I whisper, casting my eyes down.

“Is there a chance you might not hate me forever?” he asks.

“I don’t know.”

He nods. His thumb caresses the side of my leg, and I watch it. I tell myself to push him off.

But I don’t.