Anywhere With You ? {J.C.}

||Twenty-Nine|Wish I Had||

"Guess you got it on with two chicks last night then, huh?"

"No... just one." Julian trailed to Harlow in careful steps. "I'm really sorry. I, um... I thought you... you know, knew what was goin' on."

"No. I'm sure I wanted it to happen." Harlow spoke remorseful, but knowing it was the truth.

"You, um... you kinda... took the initiative." Julian flashed a half smile full of shame, remembering the things Harlow couldn't. She had climbed on top of him in only a robe, practically forcing him to do it. If he didn't want her so bad, he would've rejected her, but he couldn't, not after what she had said.

It wasn't everyday a beautiful girl threw herself at him, and yet since he and Harlow had been friends with benefits, that's all that seemed to happen when they were alone. She was everything he could ever want, and last night he was willing to accept that. But today, she didn't remember—it was a clean slate, last night completely wiped away.

"I can take you to work. You're more than welcome to shower here." Harlow turned, leaving Julian alone to either get dressed or shower.

Soon after the door closed, she heard the water kick on. She dressed in a daze, wishing more than anything she could remember what all had happened last night—at least the good parts. She recalled barging in on Julian and another girl; she could still clearly see the horror etched on his face as if he had been caught doing something he shouldn't. But that was the issue—Julian had done nothing wrong, it was even part of the agreement.

But, it didn't excuse his absence for the week; why he didn't reach out or even leave with a measly, half-assed phone call. It all started make sense—Julian had planned to cut Harlow from his life completely. He hadn't even told her about his move into the city, or that he had a job now. His plan had been for them to go their separate ways—in all ways.

Harlow started down the stairs, thinking of the inevitable. After today, she and Julian would go their separate ways... for good. It's what he wanted.

She stopped at the landing, freezing in her tracks as she stared blankly at the closed door. She hadn't been in there in nearly a year—since it happened. Come to think of it, she didn't think Frankie had either. Her mother slept in the spare bedroom downstairs.

Harlow stood in front of the door, closing her eyes before drawing in a deep breath. Without a second thought, she opened the door.

Everything looked the same—the bed still made and the closet door still open. Her jaw tightened at the thought, trying to restrain the ache in the back of her throat. Stepping over the threshold was like stepping into another world—perhaps another time.

She wanted to believe that things were better when her father was alive, but truthfully, they had been almost the same. The only difference was that he was there—alive and seemingly well.

She sat in the bed, looking ahead to see the vanity a straight shot to the closet, the mirror showcasing where it had happened.

She closed her eyes, releasing a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She wanted to cry, but what was the point?

The water kicked off—Julian stepping out of the shower and using the same towel as the night before. He dressed quickly, unsure of the time as he rushed out of the bathroom. He nearly panicked when seeing that Harlow wasn't in the bedroom—fearing that she had left without him, forcing him to call a cab. She had every right to do it, after the way he had tried to abandon her like a lost cause. "Fuck." He huffed, starting out of the room.

He stopped when catching a glimpse in his peripheral of a body sitting in the bed of a room he'd never been in. It was Harlow, sitting in the middle of the queen sized bed—alone. He swallowed hard at the sight, what felt like gravity pulling him toward the doorway.