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The next day I entered the building, a feeling of nervousness settling into my chest at the thought of seeing Harry again.

Even though I'd had the whole night to think of what had happened, I felt like I'd come nowhere close to solving the issue.

The truth was, I liked Harry. I liked him way more than I would've ever wanted to admit. But he wasn't the kind of person it made sense for someone like me to spend time with. He wasn't good for me. His presence was addicting, but paralysing at the same time. And the fact that he didn't even know his current girlfriend's name made me think that, even if not by his actions, he was a player at heart. He attracted people to him like a light attracts moths in the darkness, but he didn't seem to care about them. It was obvious. He cared about nobody but himself. And knowing it, I couldn't help but wonder if he'd kissed me to play some kind of fucked up game with me. It was in his nature, after all. He sat back, looking at the world and silently judging everyone and everything. How could I tell whether he'd done it because he truly felt like it, or because he just wanted to see what my reaction would've been?

I couldn't. And I couldn't allow myself to trust him.

For that reason I had to gather the feelings of mine that were scattered on the ground and ignore what my gut wanted, and walk inside with my head held up high as if I didn't regret my actions of the day before. Because I did. The soft touch of his lips on mine had been haunting my mind ever since, I could still taste the sweetness of something I couldn't quite put my finger on on my tongue. I was a goner.

It turned out that all my worries had no reason to exist, because he didn't sit next to me that day, nor he came to keep me company during our free period.

I felt kind of lonely, but at the same time I knew that I'd done the right thing. Besides, he probably regretted it way more than I did. I wasn't what someone like him would've gone for, and I bet he knew it as well. I wasn't popular, or particularly good looking, or particularly interesting. I was just average, and I enjoyed being average. But he didn't look like the kind of person that enjoyed anything average. He attracted everyone's attention, and he seemed to love doing so. I wasn't his kind of thing. And the fact that he'd disappeared from my life as soon as I'd shown him I wouldn't have been played by him just proved it.

I spent the whole day listening to Ella's insistent chatter about things I really couldn't have cared less about, glad that at least she wasn't trying to convince me to go out with Aiden again. I kept glancing in Harry's direction whenever we were in the same room or corridor in what I hoped was a casual way. Despite what had happened and what I'd led myself to believe, I was still drawn to him. More like, I felt even more drawn to him than usual. I had to force myself not to cross the room and go to him and ask him the meaning of his actions.

"Okay, what's wrong?" A voice distracted me from my thoughts.

I turned to look at Ella. "Nothing."

"That's a lie" she replied fast. "What, did you finally realise that Harry doesn't care about you?"

I looked down as we walked down the few steps outside, knowing that she was right. She'd been right all this time, I'd been an idiot to even believe someone like Harry could've ever truly liked me. He'd played his cards so well that he'd led me to believe he was interested in me, but the truth was so far away from that. I just felt stupid at that point.

"I knew it" she replied under her breath at my lack of response. "Not gonna lie, it isn't surprising at all. That's just how it is."

I looked up just to see that Harry was sitting on the bench again, looking completely unaffected by what had happened, with Janette on his lap, next to his dark haired friend and a somewhat annoyed looking Niall. I glanced down as we walked past them, not wanting to know whether he'd looked at me or not.

I sighed. How could he truly not even remember the name of a girl he literally had on his legs every day? And how did Janette just... not care? I didn't think I could've ever done it.

It was in that moment, as we surpassed a careless looking Harry who didn't even seem minimally touched by what had happened, that I decided that he was dangerous for me, and that I wanted nothing to do with him ever again. I was already starting to care about him way more than I should've, and I had to protect myself in order not to get hurt in the end.

"Well I'm going home" Ella said all of sudden before crossing the street and leaving me there alone, just a few feet away from Harry and his friends.

My resolution melted for a second and I looked towards the bench, discovering that his green eyes were already burning into mine from over Janette's shoulder.

I looked down fast, turning around and rushing towards my house.

The issue was, though, Harry had walked out of my life only theoretically speaking, given that I was still paired up with him. Which meant that he would've still come to my house later that day.

I closed my front door, leaning heavily against it. How was I supposed to even do it? I couldn't have just stood there and pretended nothing happened. Or could I?

I took off my coat as an idea started to resemble into my mind. There was no way I would've ever talked to him about the kiss, I would've certainly looked like a fool if I had, and it would've led him to believe he'd indeed won me over. But nothing could've stopped me from acting like the day before had never happened. As long as I completely ignored it, we could've at least kept an image of professionalism. I smiled to myself. That was what I was supposed to do.

I went upstairs and gathered all the things I'd wanted to use the day before, that I'd left lying messily on my desk, and I brought them downstairs.

I sat on the couch and tried to resume my reading, but I was way too nervous at the simple thought of being alone with him again to concentrate on what I was doing. I put the book down when I realised I'd reread the same sentence for at least five times and resorted to curl up there, my knees to my chest, staring at the clock hands ticking and waiting for 4pm to come around.

All of sudden I heard the doorbell ring and I sat up from where I was sprawled over the armrest, realising I'd fallen asleep. The doorbell rang again and I stood up fast, realising that it was indeed Harry. I rushed into the bathroom we had on the ground floor and I looked at myself in the mirror, passing my fingers through my hair to make it look decent before rushing into the kitchen and drinking some water straight from the bottle and running to open the door, hoping that Harry hadn't already left.

He gave me a weird look when I opened the door breathing heavily because how much I'd run all around the house, and I opened the door wider to allow him to walk in, a wave of embarrassment washing through me.

He walked inside and left his coat on the hanger, revealing the thin light blue shirt he was wearing underneath. I noticed he'd changed it, given that the shirt I'd seen him wear earlier that day was black, but shrugged it off, not having any intention of asking him the reason behind it.

"Outside" I simply told him, getting my things and walking towards the back door with him following me.

Once we stood in the middle of the garden I turned around and threw the blanket at him, having absolutely no intention of touching him in any way.

"Cover your shoulders."

He did, not a word being spoken, and sat down on the ground.

I closed my eyes for a second as I heard the shuffling sound of him sitting on the grass. "Can you lie down?" I asked him, hesitantly taking a step towards him, and he did.

I knelt down with a sigh and took the piece of paper and the book, starting to draw some basic lines under his attentive stare. Even though I was barely looking at him I could feel his presence burning into me, almost begging me to glance up at him again. I brushed my hair back in a nervous move. I couldn't do it. I couldn't keep up the act for much longer. I couldn't pretend he didn't have my attention when I was supposed to be drawing him.

I slowly put the paper sheet down and looked at him. He was already looking at me. It was as if his stare hadn't even moved at all since he'd lain down.

I looked into his eyes and saw nothing, if not the golden and olive speckles in his irises. No sign of any kind of emotion that could've proved me there was more behind his actions of the day before than the simple desire to fool around.

I couldn't do it.

I opened my mouth as if to say something, but I stopped right before making a fool of myself. I suddenly stood up and took the camera I'd carefully left sitting over a couple of spare paper sheets, turning it on and taking a picture of him, careful to get the light and position right, before putting it down again.

"Done." It felt as if my words, barely said, heaved down into the garden, the proof that I was, indeed, done with seeing him as anything more than my model. Even though I wasn't.

He widened his eyes as if he'd indeed been caught by surprise before sitting up and slowly taking the burgundy blanket off his shoulders. He left it on the ground as he stood up and walked inside without looking back.

Less than thirty seconds after I heard the sound of the front door being shut.

I sighed and brought my knees to my chest, freezing in the cold weather but not feeling like going inside.

Why did I feel like I'd fucked up somehow?

I pushed away the sudden need to cry that invaded my mind, leaning my forehead on my knees.

Despite the cold, I felt like I could've stayed outside for hours.

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