Chapter 5
The field is quiet as I pack up my camera gear after the game.
Most of the crowd has left, and the stadium lights cast long shadows over the grass. I like the quiet; it gives me space to think and breathe.
“Aria.”
I freeze at the sound of his voice. Brandon.
Turning slowly, I see him standing a few feet away, his hands shoved into his pockets.
He looks disheveled, his tie loosened and his hair a mess, like he hasn’t slept in days.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, my voice cold.
“I needed to see you,” he says, stepping closer. “We need to talk.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” I reply, slinging my camera bag over my shoulder. “You need to leave.”
“Aria, please,” he brings out and his voice cracks as always.
“I know I messed up, okay? I know I hurt you. But I can’t lose you. I love you.”
I laugh bitterly, shaking my head.
“You love me? Is that what you call it? Because it sure didn’t feel like love when you were with her.”
Brandon flinches, his jaw tightening.
“I made a mistake. A stupid, horrible mistake. But I can’t let you go. You’re my everything.”
“Stop,” I say sharply, my hands trembling. “Just stop. I don’t want to hear it.”
“Is this guy bothering you?”
I turn to see Harry walking toward us, his expression dark and protective. He must have stayed behind after the game.
“This has nothing to do with you,” Brandon snaps, narrowing his goddamn eyes.
“It does if she’s uncomfortable,” Harry shoots back, stepping between us. “So why don’t you back off?”
Brandon’s face twists in anger. “Who the hell are you?”
“I’m someone who cares about her,” Harry says evenly. “And I’m not going to let you harass her.”
“Harass?” Brandon scoffs. “She’s my fiancée.”
“Ex–fiancée,” I correct, my voice firm
Brandon’s eyes flick to me, pain flashing across his face. “Aria, please. Don’t do this.”
“She’s already made her choice,” Harry says, his tone like steel. “Now leave her alone.”
That’s the breaking point. Brandon lunges at Harry, shoving him hard. Harry stumbles back but quickly regains his footing, his fists clenched. “Hey!” I yell, stepping forward. “Stop it!”
But they don’t stop. Brandon swings at Harry, who ducks and counters with a punch of his own.
The sound of fists connecting with flesh makes my stomach churn.
“Enough!” I scream, running between them. “Stop it right now!”
Harry steps back, breathing heavily, blood trickling from his lip. Brandon glares at him, his chest heaving.
“This isn’t over,” Brandon growls before turning and storming off.
I turn to Harry, my heart pounding, “Are you okay?”
He wipes his lip with the back of his hand, wincing.
“I’m fine. You didn’t need to step in, though.”
“Are you kidding me?” I ask him almost loud, with my words shaking. “You didn’t have to fight him!”
“He wasn’t going to back off,” Harry responds, the frustration clear in his voice. “I wasn’t going to let him hurt you.”
I shake my head, letting out a deep sigh. For real, I don’t even know what to do.
Back at Harry’s apartment, I sit him down on the couch and grab a clean towel from the kitchen.
“Hold still,” I say, dabbing at the cut on his lip with a damp cloth.
He winces but doesn’t pull away, his blue eyes locked on inine. “You didn’t have to do this, you know.”
“Don’t be stupid,” I mutter, focusing on the task at hand. “You’re bleeding.”
He chuckles softly “You’re kind of bossy, you know that?”
“Shut up,” I say, but I can’t help the small smile tugging at my lips.
For a moment, the room is quiet, the only sound the faint hum of the fridge in the kitchen. I can feel his gaze on me, heavy and intense, and it makes my pulse quicken. “You didn’t deserve what he did to you,” Harry says quietly.
I freeze, my hand stilling against his face.
“You’re an amazing person, Aria,” he continues in a soft voke.
1/2
Chapter 5
“And you deserve someone who sees that. Someone who values you.”
My throat tightens, and I look away. “I don’t even know what I deserve anymore.”
“Well,” he says, his fingers gently brushing mine, “I think you deserve the world.”
I meet his gaze, my breath catching. The way he looks at me–like I’m the most important person in the room–makes my heart ache in a way I’m not sure I’m ready for. “Harry,” I whisper, unsure of what to say.
Before I can think too much, he leans in, his lips brushing against mine in the softest kiss.
For a second, I don’t move, too stunned to react. But then I kiss him back, my hands sliding up to his face as something inside me shifts.
The kiss is slow and tentative, like we’re both testing the waters, but it quickly deepens, the emotions I’ve been trying to suppress spilling over.
When we finally pull apart, we’re both breathing heavily, our foreheads resting against each other.
“Sorry,” he apologizes lowly. “I didn’t mean to—”
“Don’t apologize,” I interrupt, my lips still tingling.
His eyes search mine, his expression uncertain. “Are you okay?”
I nod, a small smile right on my face.
“Yeah. I think I am.”
What a kiss that was. Tell me more about it. It’s nice, great, and I’m going to start asking myself now. Why do I want more?
