Thirty-one

The sight of Harry’s jeep parked outside his apartment was a relief. Part of me felt guilty for not going with him. I knew he had been drinking, and although Erik was right to hit him, we still allowed a person, who I cared about, to drive, knowing they were not only hurt, but intoxicated. What a great friend I was.

I imagined he would want nothing to do with me anymore. Which, given my track record with Archer boys, made sense. He would have felt betrayed and insulted that I chose to go with the guy who had just punched him. Still, I wanted to see if he was okay. I had to know for my own sanity.

The apartment door opened, and the sight of Harry in the light was alarming. His jaw was swollen and already a shade of purple. Damn. Erik had really hit him hard. I was grateful he hadn’t hit him in his eye. To hit a guy with glasses was pretty low. At least Erik had a code.

Harry’s hair was a mess, and his pupils were small pinholes. He looked a little crazy. “Why are you here?” he asked, his face mirrored his confusion.

“I wanted to see if you were okay.”

“I’m fine,” he said like he had stubbed his toe, my concern invalid. He shrugged and stepped to the side so I could come in. When the door clicked behind me, I immediately regretted coming here alone. My gaze wandered around the room. There was a credit card on the table and some powdery residue from where Harry had used. I remembered all the things I had read online about how highly addictive this drug and similar opiates were. How it worked differently in different people, and I knew Harry had been drinking, too.

“You need ice,” I said more to myself than to Harry. I headed into the kitchen, noting the half empty bottle of Jack Daniels on the counter. I had no way of knowing if he had drank all of that tonight, or if he took a shot occasionally and I simply caught him on a bad day. Either way, it was alarming. My hands shook while I dumped the tray of ice into a Ziploc bag. Wrapping the bag in a kitchen towel, I took a breath and spun around, jumping when I found Harry behind me in rather close proximity. “Here, ice that bruise. It’s all swollen.” I reached out to his jaw, but he took the ice out of my hand and tossed it behind me in the sink.

“I don’t need ice.” He stepped closer. “I need you.” He pulled me against him by my waist and slammed his mouth against mine. I was shocked and admittedly nervous by how forward he was being. I felt like a doll, unable to move as he played with me. His kiss wasn’t hot, nor was it romantic. It was hungry. This man was a stranger, and I was alone with him.

I managed to pluck my mouth away, taking a breath and trying to make sense of his behavior. “Harry, stop.” I pushed him by the shoulders, but I may as well have tried to move a mountain. He was solid stone.

He buried his face into my neck and began kissing me aggressively. His hands were still locked on my waist. He dragged his lips to my ear and whispered, “I’ve loved you from the moment I first saw you.” His words were shocking and downright confusing. I wanted to believe they were sincere, but he was under the influence, and for all I knew, Brit was right, and this was just a way to get me in his bed. Would Harry do that? I didn’t know because this wasn’t Harry.

“That day, in your bedroom, I wanted you so bad.” His words confirmed my suspicion, and I knew exactly how he wanted tonight to go. I slammed my hands against his chest and shoved him hard. He let go of my waist and snapped his head up, his eyes narrowed in confusion.

“That day in my bedroom was probably a mistake,” I said, trying to control my voice so it wouldn’t shake.

“What? How could you even say that?” His face was inches from mine. “You wanted it. I asked you. You told me yes!” He was yelling now, and the sad part was, he was right. He had asked, but that didn’t make any of this right.

“We had taken something, Harry. We weren’t thinking clearly,” I pleaded, taking a step back. His face only twisted into more rage.

“It’s that fucking group of people you surround yourself with. They don’t want you happy. They don’t want you to have a good time. Look at my face, Kris!” He stepped closer, pointing to his jaw that was discolored and misshapen. “Look what they did to me!” He was wild now, pacing the kitchen like a tiger. I looked out into the living room, the front door seemed miles away.

“Harry… I think you need help.”

His eyes widened, and he shook his head. “I can’t believe you. Last time we were together you were doing the same thing I was. What changed? Who the fuck are you to judge me? You’re playing sick games with my head!”

“Harry, I’m not. I would never!” Tears threatened, stinging my eyes.

“I’ve had to watch you, listen to you, with him for years!” he shouted. “Moaning like a whore with him but pushing me away.” His words stabbed at my heart like a jagged dagger, clumsily hacking away.

“Why would you say such things?” My eyes glazed over with tears. Newly enraged, I pushed past him and stormed into the living room. I started tossing pillows on the couch, looking for his stash. The tiny white pill that turned Harry from Jekyll to Hyde. I was determined to flush them away. I couldn’t allow him to spend another night in this apartment if he still had those pills.

He grabbed for my wrist, but I was able to twist it away. “Don’t touch me!” I screamed. “Where are they? Where are your pills?”

Something in him snapped. His rage quickly faded as fear took over his eyes. “You need to go. Now.” He was seething with a newfound sense of panic.

“No. Not until you hand over what you have left.”

“I’m not playing games, Kris.”

“Neither am I!” I darted past him into his bedroom, throwing the light switch on and seeing my prize on his dresser. A clear plastic bag with the small white pills. I lunged for them, but Harry caught my waist. “Let me go!” I squirmed in his arms. “Don’t touch me!” I shouted again, this time able to stretch far enough to grab his pills.

“Give them here. Now!” he yelled, holding me too tight.

“Harry, you’re hurting me!” I cried.

“And you’re hurting me, Kris!” he shouted, his words silencing me into submission. I stopped fighting him, just stared into blue eyes I no longer recognized. He loosened his grasp on me. We were both panting. “I don’t want to feel this way, Kris. I just want to feel…” He kissed me again. Soft at first, then with more fervor. I could taste the whiskey. I turned my face away, denying him, his lips landing on my cheek.

“Harry, please stop,” I pleaded, speaking to the man who had taken care of me and not this imposter. “Don’t kiss me like this. Not with all this crap in your system.” My body was trembling, my grip on the pills so tight my nails were digging into my skin.

“It’s still me.” He looked so confused. He leaned in again, but I took a step back, feeling my body hit the door. He stepped closer, his gaze taking me in. “It’s still me, and all I want is you.” He placed one hand firmly over my fist that held his pills.

“No, Harry, it’s not you.” As he leaned in to kiss me, I kneed him in the groin.