chapter twenty-four

sebastian

It's one a.m. on a Thursday night, and Harris has me all alone in his basement.

It's only my third time seeing it, yet it feels familiar. A mix of lived in and bare-bones, all mixed up with the dash of chaos one would expect when dealing with Harrison McCammon. When we came down earlier, I was surprised that his bed was made and that his laundry was in the hamper, honestly.

"You're sure I won't get you in trouble?" I ask him for the fiftieth time. His mom hadn't seemed particularly thrilled to have seen me walking out all that time ago, although she was really nice. It's not like I would have expected a better reaction from a parent discovering another teenager of the preferred sex sneaking out of the house in the wee hours of the morning, after all.

Harris either doesn't know about this, or doesn't care to dwell on it. "You're fine," he says. "She won't find out. And even if she asked, my grandma would vouch for us, no question."

Silently, I give praise to the great Granny Mac.

We had left for Paco's, eaten there, and now we're back at La Casa de McCammon. Despite everything we did earlier, I'm somehow even more nervous now. I just hope it doesn't show.

Dressed in flannel pajama bottoms and thick West Denton Track sweatshirt, Harris sits on the edge of his bed and looks at me, silently inviting me to join him. I sit down next to him, and he places his hand atop mine.

"I'm sorry things have been so weird," he says softly, rubbing his thumb atop my own. "And hectic. And thanks for everything that night."

"Of course," I tell him, even though I'm sure he doesn't remember the extent of everything that went down. I almost want to say that that's probably better for him. I'm just glad that he's possibly admitting that things happened.

He leans his head against my shoulder and sighs. "You've been great," he says. And for a moment, selfishly, I panic. Because that feels like final words, somehow. Whatever this is, whatever we're doing, whatever we are, I don't want to lose it. I don't want him to break it off, but I'd have to respect his decision either way. Somehow, I can't envision my life suddenly being sans-Harrison.

"You are great," I tell him, because I don't know what else to say.

I feel the muscles in his cheek stiffen when he smiles. "Thanks," he whispers.

Instead of saying anything, I just turn my head and press an awkward kiss against his temple. I don't know what else I could say to him.

Harris tilts his head up, his lips parted just slightly, his eyes searching for mine. My heart thuds in my chest. I don't know why, but over the course of just a few weeks, I feel so much better about moving fast with Harris. That first night, I couldn't fathom having sex with him. But right now, if he asked, I would. It no longer feels rushed, or like we're grasping onto some fleeting, short-lived burst of chaotic coalescence. Goddamnit. Just the brief thought of him gently guiding me through my first time—fuck, okay, not right now, Sebastian.

"I'm going to kiss you," he whispers, and then he does.

His lips are soft against mine, each sweet movement of our mouths together drawing out the entirety of my breath till my lungs are empty, my chest is sore and on the verge of collapsing, but I can't stop to breathe, won't let us stop this. Harris's hands press against my chest, and I let him push me down onto the mattress. One of his legs goes over my torso, and he sits back just enough to feel me beneath him. I gasp.

"Wow," he says, his eyes sparkling, "someone is having fun." He grinds against me just a moment, and holy fuck.

"Shut up," I whisper, squeezing my eyes shut, my head going back. I didn't know that this would feel so good. "You're so fucking evil."

He smiles, coy. "But this is okay?" He removes the pressure, and I want to call him back, beg him to move against me like that again.

"Yes," I breathe, "it's perfect. Don't stop."

"Okay." He grinds against me again, just right, so right that I can't even fathom it. Fuck. Wow. Okay.

"Come here," I tell him, largely breathless. I hold my hands out right as he smirks and leans down towards me. Then I'm pulling his face to meet my own, his hands gently grabbing my wrists while our mouths work in sync. His breath is hot on my face, and he's still grinding softly against me, and it's all I can do not to groan with pleasure against his lips.

He shifts forward, approaching his movement from a slightly different angle. I prop myself up on one elbow so I can wrap one hand around his hair and place a soft kiss against his neck. He always seems to like those best.

Harris freezes. I feel it as his thighs stiffen and squeeze mine together, in the worst possible angle.

"Ow, ow, Harris—"

He's looking down at me, his eyes wide and not quite there, but when he hears his name, he seems to snap out of it.

"Sorry, sorry." He scrambles off me and sits on the edge of his bed, kneeling with his hands on his knees. His chest heaves for breath.

"Are you okay?" I ask him.

When he looks up at me, his eyes are still wide, but more vulnerable and frightened than completely distant. "I–I'm fine," he promises. "But ... I wanted to talk to you about something."

Dread sets in, but I know this conversation needs to happen, if it's the one I've been thinking of. I had wondered how much he remembered from that night. I think I'm about to find out.

"What's up?"

"What...." Even though we both know the question he's about to ask, he struggles to find the words, instead looking up at the ceiling. His Adam's apple bobs when he swallows nervously. Finally, he looks back at me. "What happened that night?"

"How much do you remember?" I ask him quietly.

"Can you just tell me everything you know? Everything is really random and sporadic for me."

So I tell him everything, just like he told me that night, and Saanvi rehashed the next day. When I'm finished, he's still sitting on the edge of the bed, hands on his knees. He's trying to breathe deep, probably in an attempt to calm down. I don't know that it's necessarily working.

"Are you okay?" I ask him. I don't care about hooking up or anything right now, I just want to make sure that Harris is alright. I'm too scared to touch him though, too scared that it'll be too much. So I sit there, my hands hovering over my lap until I let them drop, fingers curling slightly against my thighs.

It's like I can see him shake himself off. He looks over his shoulder and smiles weakly. "I'm okay."

"Are you sure? Because, you don't have to be."

His voice quavers, but he looks determined, I think. "At least I know now. What happened."

I don't know what to say to this. "Yeah."

"I'm really glad you and Saanvi were there," he says.

"Saanvi did the most, believe me."

"I don't care." He rubs his cheeks with the heels of his palms, closing his eyes. "You guys ... you don't get it."

I want to ask him what he means by that, but I'm also certain that it's not anything he's required to explain to me. So I ask instead, "Are you okay?"

"Mm." He nods. "Yeah, just processing."

"Okay." I watch as he bites his lip, his hands moving to rub his neck.

"I just ... I feel so stupid. I should have seen this coming from him." He sighs. The sigh is shaky. "He oversteps boundaries a lot. And he made me uncomfortable a while back, so I kind of wanted to stop being friends with him. But I just, I fucking couldn't, no matter how hard I tried."

He blinks hard, stopping to think before he continues. "I wish I had known how bad he was before all this. But, Seb, I'm looking back, and there were so many signs. I just couldn't make myself quit him. He's fucking addictive somehow. Like, fucking worse than cigarettes. That's a lame analogy. Fuck. I don't know."

I don't say anything, just listen to him.

"I don't want to think that maybe, if I were stronger or smarter or just knew better, I'd have ended things," he says slowly, staring down at his hands. He clenches and unclenches his fists a few times. "Stopped talking to him. Avoided him, told him to fuck off, whatever."

I'm gearing up to tell him this wasn't his fault when he says, "But I'm also not the ... fuck, the attempted rapist, so I'm gonna chalk this up to this being a Liam Problem, not a Harris Problem." He looks up at me, smiling weakly. He's so expressive. Every thought he's ever had has had to have been written all over his face, no doubt. And right now is absolutely zero exception. "Is.... I'm not crazy for that, right?"

"You're not crazy," I assure him immediately, then ask once more, "Are you sure you're okay?"

He nods. "I'm okay. But, could we just watch a movie or something instead of...." His voice trails off, and even though I want to ask him to fill in the blank and tell me where he thought this was going, I don't.

I smile. "I guess. So long as the movie is good."

Harris grins back. This time, it's sincere.

A/N - @Spruce_Goose just posted the SWEETEST review of BOWD and I literally cannot function, omg. I LOVE YOU AMELIA AHHHHHHH 😭 I'll link it in the external link. GO READ HER BOOKS GODAMMIT.

Aaanyways. See you guys on Tuesday!