Complicated

by Ashley Love

  He glowers at me through the mirror, watching as I pull my hair back, twisting it up and securing it with a clip. I brush the long strands of my bangs away from my face and survey it in the mirror. I wrinkle my nose and repeat the process. Harry stands silently behind me, his eyes never leaving me, silent anger emanating off of him.

  I start to freshen my makeup, throwing out random art questions which he answers dutifully, jaw tight, voice flat and emotionless. I finish my makeup, puckering my red lips in the mirror and surveying my face. My dark eyes flit to him through the reflection and he's still sulking, his arms crossed over his chest, gaze roving over me through the mirror. I sigh.

  "I need to change," I tell him, turning to face him and he leans against the shower door, snaking his tongue out to wet his full bottom lip.

  "So change," he replies, nodding his head at me. I roll my eyes.

  "Come on, Harry," I say, pointing to the door. But he doesn't move, just stands there and raises an eyebrow in challenge.

  I sigh, turning away from him as I tug my shirt over my head. But the mirror does little to hide my nakedness. I avoid his gaze while I unbutton my jeans and push them down my hips, hooking my big toe in the elastic of my socks as I kick the denim off my legs, taking my socks with it.

  My eyes meet his in the mirror and he's watching me intently, his eyes roving over my scantily clad form, his tongue sliding against the inside of his lip. I sigh as I turn to face him again, fisting my hands on my hips and nodding towards the door.

  "Seriously, Harry, come on."

  "What?" he asks, his voice hard. "You act like it's some shit I've never seen before." He grins at me cockily and I scowl, turning to the mirror again, reaching behind me to undo my bra. Fine, he wants it this way, it can be this way. I hear him gasp as I let the material fall from my shoulders and toss it aside. I hesitate as I hook my thumbs in the waistband of my panties, but I shake the insecurity away. He's right. He has seen it all before.

  I shove them down and grab the black lacy pair I have chosen for this evening, pulling them up my legs. I gasp when I feel him slide up behind me, pressing into my back, his large hands coming around me to cover my breasts.

  Why was I excited to go on this date again? Khefren who?

  His long fingers pluck at my nipples and my eyelids flutter before I come back to myself and push him back. He can't keep doing this. Seducing me and winning me over just to get his way. He needs to let me go. I need to let him go.

  "Excuse me," I say, reaching past him to grab my dress from over the shower door and he doesn't move, making me brush my breasts against the bare skin of his arm in the process.

  I turn back to the mirror and bring the dress over my head, raising my arms to let the soft cotton fall down my body. I adjust the fabric over my frame, situating the empire waist just under my breasts, tugging on the material until the low neckline is straight and showing just enough of my chest to entice. I bring my arm back and grip the zipper, doing my best to tug it up. My arm cramps and I struggle...If I could just get it up a little more, I could come from the other end and...

  Harry sighs, stepping forward, and I feel his fingers graze my skin as he grabs the zipper and pulls up, his knuckles smoothing up my spine as he zips me. He pauses and I can see him in the mirror, his eyes locked on the back of my neck. He purses his lips before heaving a sigh that rushes against my skin, causing goose bumps to prickle before placing a soft kiss at the nape of my neck. I shiver hard, my eyeslids fluttering as I watch him look at the floor sadly, his hand going up to flatten his curls against his head.

  I turn, cupping his face in my hand, stroking his cheek with my thumb and I have no words. I can't say what he wants to hear. I won't say what he wants to hear. This is good for us. He'll have Gigi and I'll have Khefren and we'll be happy...normal. This is the way it should be. He and I... apart.

  I turn away from him, going back into the bedroom and, glancing at the clock, I see that it's five till seven. I should go downstairs. I reach in my suitcase and find my small black handbag and shove a few things inside it. The silence in the room is deafening.

  "Don't go." His voice is soft and it breaks in the middle, jumping an octave, and I close my eyes, trying to force down the wave of emotion that threatens to swallow me whole.

  "Harry," I say warningly, grabbing my jewelry bag and rummaging through it to find my silver dangly earrings.

  "You don't have to go," he says quietly, shifting from foot to foot, his eyes wide and imploring. "I can go down and say you're sick, or you have to work on your thesis...or that you're my girlfriend."

  The last part is so quiet I barely hear it but the effect that it has on me is unfathomable even to me. Panic and adrenaline, hot as lava, shoots through my veins and I charge toward him, my terror making me nervous. "Don't..." I say, my voice low, and I swallow hard, my tongue like cotton in my mouth. "Don't ever say anything like that again."

  He looks down and away, the way he does when his mother tells him he's getting a little too big for his breeches, or when the vocal coach scolds him for doing too many runs in a song. My chest is heaving, my body trembling slightly.

  "But I could...I would," he says softly. "We don't have to keep it a secret. People will understand. We are in—"

  "People will not understand, Harry!" I exclaim, cutting him off, my mind fighting to wrap my head around what he's saying. He can't be serious. "You're seventeen years old. I'm your teacher. Do you understand that I could go to jail for what we've done?"

  "My mom wouldn't press charges," Harry starts but I snort disbelievingly and he scowls down at me. One thing Harry hates more than anything is being interrupted. "She wouldn't!"

  "Yeah," I say condescendingly. "She was so understanding when she caught you having sex before. She practically threw a parade."

  "Don't talk about my mother," he growls and I silence instantly, knowing I've hit a serious nerve and while I'm looking to deter him, I don't really want to hurt him.

  "You promised me," I say lowly, "You promised me that if we started this thing you would keep your mouth shut. That was the only thing I asked of you. To keep your mouth shut."

  "But—"

  "No buts!" I exclaim and I take a deep breath, stealing myself for what I have to say next. "I'm not your girlfriend, Harry. We're not in a relationship, and..." I pause, gritting my teeth, "I have no emotional attachment to you whatsoever. It's just sex."

  His eyes are hard and unblinking and his hands are fisted at his sides, jaw clenched. His chest is heaving and I can tell that it's taking everything in him not to fly into a rage. The fact that he's even trying to hold it in is a testament to how much he's grown since I've known him.

  "You don't mean that," he says finally after a moment, shaking his head and jutting his chin out defiantly.

  I swallow hard, praying that my voice stays steady. "I do."

  "No," he says shaking his head and laughing slightly. "No...you don't," he says and then he repeats it emphatically, "No, you don't!"

  "Harry," I say, stepping forward and reaching to touch his face, but I stop myself, letting my hand fall to my side. "You're sweet," I sigh. "You're a sweet boy and you deserve a nice girl that can give you what you want."

  "Boy?" he asks and I wince. I chose the word knowingly, deliberately, but that doesn't make his reaction to it any less brutal. "Since when do you call me a boy? Last time I checked my dick got hard like a man and I fucked you like a man."

  "Harry," I sigh but he cuts me off with a wave of his hand.

  "No, I don't need a nice girl to give me what I want. I have you. You give me what I want. You're a nice girl...well, right now you're being a bitch but usually you're a nice girl."

  I give him a condescending look and roll my eyes, pulling my black heels from my suitcase and slipping them on before grabbing my purse off the bed. I see his eyes climbing up my legs. He loves it when I wear heels.

  "Don't go tonight, Scarlett," he pleads, his voice low and threatenin
g and I laugh in his face, the action almost hurting me as I push the sound out.

  "Yeah," I reply, moving past him to open the door, "I'll do that."

  And with that I step out of the door and leave him, my chest tightening with every step.

  21

  I have never laughed so hard in my life. My ribs are aching as I stumble back to the car, Khefren's arm warm around my waist. Tonight...tonight has easily been one of the best nights of my life. He was the first thing I saw when I stepped off the elevator, waiting next to a table adorned with a vase of fresh flowers. His face lit up in a grin when he saw me and I was pulled forward by the warmth of his smile. He plucked a daisy from the flower display and presented it to me, which I took with a giggle, a blush warming my face.

  The ride to the restaurant was filled with pleasant banter and careful innuendo and for the life of me I didn't see how I'd gone two months without him. The way he would look at me from the corner of his eye as he drove, or when he would turn to face me, eyes wide in shock when I'd said something particularly scandalous.

  "Scarlett!" he had exclaimed, chuckling disbelievingly. "What on earth has gotten into you since I left? You're downright sassy!"

  I had laughed out loud at his choice of words, but he was right. I have become more bold since I've seen him last. Having steady sex always seems to do that to me. Harry...I had nearly gasped as his boyish face planted itself in my minds eye, smirking and licking his lips seductively. I had shaken my head, trying to rid myself of the image and I did, but only for a little while.

  Dinner was intimate, Khefren having taken me to a small Italian restaurant that, if he hadn't known where it was, I would have walked right past it. Inside it was quiet, the lights low and the tables were small enough to lean over and kiss.

  I found myself staring at him as he perused his menu, taking in the smooth curve of his jaw, the pinkness of his lips. The way his tongue was running along the inside of his mouth as he weighed his decision between the manicotti and the salmon, much the same way Harry's tongue did when he was surveying me, trying to make a decision as whether to grab me right then or wait just a little bit longer. Harry... I had cleared my throat and abruptly asked Khefren what he'd been up to, banishing Harry's face from my brain, but he was still there. He was always there.

  Khefren had told me he had taken some time off, traveled a little. When I had asked where he blushed and my stomach somersaulted. Maybe I had missed him after all. Maybe...maybe Harry was a compensation for him. Harry...

  I'd snapped back into the moment when he mentioned he'd gone to Egypt and I was enraptured, hanging on his every word as he told me of the pyramids and the culture and the art.

  "You went to museums?" I had asked, the shock evident in my voice. "I thought you told me you hated museums?"

  "I wanted something to be able to talk with you about," he had said, grinning at me bashfully and I was more than shocked. But then he looked up at me, his face solemn and serious, the flecks of gold in his eyes shining in the candlelight as he said, "I've missed you, Scarlett."

  It took my breath away. That he had missed me all this time. That he had longed for me in some way, shape, or form. That he had gone all the way to Egypt because it made him feel close to me. He told me these things, his voice hushed, his hand reaching the small distance across the table to take mine. I was completely lost in him.

  He told me about how he's been working on a few theatrical productions in his hometown, just waiting for the fall tours to start. He told me bashfully how he'd spent the five hour drive here rehearsing what he was going to say when he saw me again. He told me he'd never stopped thinking about me, that I was always in the back of his mind. That the drive was nothing if it meant he'd get to see me again.

  And now...now as we're giggling our way back to the car, I'm looking at him differently. Or more likely, the same as before...before Harry. I shove his face away. This is not about Harry tonight. This is about me. This is about me doing the right thing. For once.

  He opens my car door for me and I slide inside, my body tingling, tingling the way it does with... I push it down. I watch Khefren hurry around the front of the car and slide in the driver's seat, watching him for a moment before the light goes out and he's a mere silhouette against the night. He turns to me and all I can see are his eyes, shining through the darkness.

  He's staring at me intently, teeth working his bottom lip and I can feel my heart quickening. He leans over the center console and I hesitate for a moment. I pause and a thousand things are running through my mind. How this has been the best date I've ever had. Except for that date at the museum.

  Wait, that was not a date!

  How Khefren looks at me, how his eyes soften and hold mine with an uneasy confidence. Harry's gaze is smoldering, deep green eyes adoring and needy.

  Ugh, this is NOT about Harry.

  I take a deep breath and lean in, my lips finding Khefren's in the dark. He's slightly taken aback by my forwardness but returns my kiss earnestly, his hand going up to cup my face gently. My hand moves to fist in the soft cotton of his polo, tugging him closer and his arm that was supporting him on the console slips down and he struggles to retain his balance, his hand falling onto my thigh and gripping as he catches himself. I gasp into his mouth and he starts to pull back but I keep a firm grip on his shirt, pressing my lips harder into his and he stays where he is, hand pressing warmly on my upper thigh.

  This is what I need, I think. This, with him, this frantic scrambling for each other, this passion for someone... someone other than...

  I pull back gasping, my chest heaving as a deep burning pain lodges itself between my ribs. How can I do this to him? Harry adores me, he cares for me, more deeply than I do. The pain stabs me again and I gasp. Khefren's hand is caressing my cheek and I try to concentrate on it. I try to think of only him, but deep green eyes are all I see. I push it down.

  "Scarlett?" It's Khefren's voice, low and deep, slightly breathless and I grip his face in my hands tugging him into a passionate kiss that sets my skin on fire.

  I definitely need this. His hand is snaking down to my knee, searching for the hem of my dress, searching for my skin. He finds it, soft fingers caressing my inner knee, softer than Harry's guitar-calloused fingertips. My arm moves to wrap around Khefren's neck, pressing my heaving chest to his as his free hand moves to grab at my waist, trying to tug me closer. The hand on my thigh is inching higher and my stomach is quivering in anticipation (or is it dread?), my tongue sliding hotly against his.

  "Scarlett," he heaves, pulling back from me panting and I'm panting too, swallowing hard, hands grabbing at his chest, just touching, enjoying the feel of the unfamiliar. "Do... do you wanna go back to..." He swallows hard. "My hotel room?"

  My heart practically stops beating at his request. He's panting, his eyes pleading and maybe this is exactly what I need. Harry has Gigi now, and I have Khefren and we can finally stop this thing. We can let each other go. This is good for us. This is the right thing to do. Whether Harry will think so or not, it's the right thing to do.

  "Yes," I pant, my hand moving up to smooth down his face. "Yes, let's go."

  22

  My heart is racing as I walk down the hallway towards his room. I have to see him. My entire body is propelling itself towards him, my mind frantic, that indescribable emotion that has been plaguing me all night settling itself in the pit of my stomach.

  Guilt, bitter and unrelenting, bites at my heart. I shouldn't have done it. I shouldn't have let it go that far. I need to get to Harry. For some reason I feel like I need to explain. Which I don't... I mean we're just...we're just...fucking. I don't owe him anything. But I feel like I do. And maybe I do owe him an apology, for earlier, for the yelling. Or at least that's what I'm telling myself as I reach his door and knock, slightly breathless, waiting for him to answer.

  All night this has been in the back of my mind, sitting there and festering, tainting what would have been a perfect evening
. A perfect date with a perfect man, but the only thing I could think of was getting back to him. Why, I'll never know but that's the way it is sometimes. Your body wants what it wants. And my body...always wants Harry.

  The door swings open and I nearly moan when I see him standing there in nothing but a pair of blue basketball shorts, the white band of his boxers peeking out of the top. His face registers shock and I speak before he can say anything.

  "Look, I know you're mad at me. I get that but—" My sentence is cut off when a girlish voice calls from inside.

  "Who is it, Harry?"

  His eyes slide closed and he winces. My heart stops, my mouth falling open and rage explodes in my chest as I see her walk up behind him, clad in tiny pajama shorts and a tank top that exposes so much skin she might as well not even be wearing one. She places a hand on Harry's shoulder and leans on him, looking up at him adoringly and then looking at me.

  "Oh, it's your teacher?" she says, cocking her head to the side so that it rests against his bicep. "You guys don't study this late, do you?"

  "Yeah," Harry responds, his eyes holding mine as he turns his head to her. "We do."

  "Really?" Gigi asks, her voice high as she looks at him, and I fight the urge to rip her face off. What is wrong with me?

  "Yeah," he replies, smiling down at her. "You should call it a night anyway. Big day tomorrow."

  "Oh yeah," she says, rolling her eyes. "Lots of interviews." She grabs onto his shoulder and bounces up to her tip toes, puckering her lips and Harry turns his head away just in time to allow her to catch the corner of his mouth. He smiles down at her, and I watch him. His eyes don't dance the way they do when he smiles at me but I can see happiness there. He likes her. Which should be a good thing...right? I've said it before that it's better for him to date someone his own age.

  She gives me a tight lipped smile as she brushes past me saying, "Nice dress."