It's long overdue by the time he steps foot back into his apartment in New York, shifting through the doorway and setting his bags down with a gentle huff.

Christmas had been savoured - somehow. After a heartfelt apology to Gemma and a ridiculously long heart-to-heart with his mother, all was well, and Harry had managed to smile his way through Christmas and New Year. And now he's back - and tomorrow is Monday, and he has to face the inevitable.

Sophie Ashford.

He's not quite sure how he's going to do it; but he knows he has to. She's not quite sure how to go about it either, but she knows it's unavoidable.

Sophie wants to talk to him - but she doesn't know how to. She knows that he arrives back in New York today, and she knows that she should approach him before they return to class - but she can't do it.

Alice had gotten a flight home yesterday afternoon, after - thanks to Harry - a long week and a half with Sophie. Sophie has no idea how to thank him for that - where to even begin.

The next morning, Harry's alarm sounds at nine. He's not sure he's ever dreaded a Monday so much in his life - except maybe in primary school when his class would visit the local swimming pool on the first day of every other week from March to June, and the other boys would poke fun at him in the changing rooms for being 'too lanky', or act as if 'the gay one' 'might try and touch them'.

He has three texts to respond to. One from his mother, one from his sister - and one from his new friend, Elle. He'd ran into her twice more in the period between Christmas and New Years' - and it was nice to make a friend who hadn't gone to his high school, and jumped on the bandwagon of making fun of the feminine boy who liked to paint.

Elle had a slightly weird vibe to her - but nothing that Harry would take note of. She was friendly, and she'd caught him in a moment of weakness - and so when she'd asked for his number and offered to meet for coffee the next time he was back in town; he saw no evil. But, then again - Harry's optimistic. He looks for the good in just about anyone.

Harry gets up - slightly reluctantly, but he's up all the same. He looks in the mirror, pushing his face in slightly and watching the blood rush back to his cheeks. A sigh leaves his lips, as he tears his t-shirt over his head and strips down the rest of his clothes, getting into the shower.

Thirty minutes later, he's out of the door, in a baggy striped sweater, and his typical jeans and boots, with his camera sitting comfortably on the strap around his neck. The cold air whips at his face, but he chooses to ignore it as his bag hangs from his shoulder, and he heads for the coffee shop.

He picks up his regular coffee, sending a warm smile in the direction of the barista as he wishes her a good day. He walks out of the coffee shop, and for a moment - he feels okay. Though it's only a matter of seconds before his worries return, the dark cloud of anxiety drawling back over his brain and he makes his way towards campus.

It'd be wrong to say he hadn't paid it much thought. In fact, it would be incredibly far off - even while preoccupied back home in Manchester, his lingering thoughts had been of - and only of - Sophie. How to address her; whether he should address her at all. It's not like he has the will or the confidence to do it; he was sort of lacking in that department.

What is he going to say to her? Is he even going to say anything at all? No - probably not. He should stay out of her way - she'd rejected him and that should be enough. Maybe the ability to reject him was almost a scapegoat for her - she'd needed a reason to get rid of him and he'd given her one. Maybe she'd been sick of him for weeks and finally she could make her escape - that would make sense, no?

Harry pushes open the door to the classroom, and his chest falls in relief when landing on the empty chair which Sophie usually occupies. She's not here yet - good; some time to think.

"Hi, Harry!" Thinking time shattered. He turns his head, to face the girl sitting herself down beside him. 

"Hey, Layla," Harry forces a small smile onto his face, hoping his exhaustion wasn't too prominent in his voice, "good Christmas?"

"Oh, the best!" she squeals, clearly excited that Harry was properly engaging with her. Her persistence had begun to lessen between Thanksgiving and Christmas, when realising that Harry was far too preoccupied with Sophie to pay her much mind; catching him on his own was a rarity, at this point - but here he was. "How was yours?"

"Yeah, it was good," he nods, sparing much detail, "was nice to go home."

"Yeah!" she nods enthusiastically, "I'd miss it."

His ring-clad fingers fumble with his coffee cup as he listens to her ramble about her life - though he honestly isn't taking much of it in, he's far too polite to make that manifest - he simply nods when she looks up to him for confirmation.

Harry's phone buzzes, and he goes to glance at it, interrupted by the opening of the classroom door. His eyes dart upwards, and sure enough, they land on the brown-eyed girl he hasn't seen for near three weeks. 

Is her hair shorter? It barely brushes her shoulders, while before it was past them - he's sure of it. Is that a new jumper? It's knitted; oversized. It looks something like one he'd buy, too. Is she glowing even more than before? Is that even possible? Is that a halo over her head? A billion and one thoughts race through his mind, but her eyes are on him and he quickly looks down at his lap.

"Did you hear what I said?" Layla asks, and Harry chews on his lip, feeling guilty for being so dismissive. 

"Yeah, yeah - the cupcakes your Mum makes," he tries to sound enthusiastic, as the chair to the left of him is pulled outwards, and Sophie sits down.

"Yeah! So, they're-" He's zoned out before he can hear her continuation. His heart is beating so fast he's scared he'll faint. His knee is bouncing up and down in an anxious repetitive moment, and his lip is brought between his teeth. Say something, Harry.

"Good morning, sunshines," Michael wanders into the room, a grin on his face, "all had a good Christmas?"

Some students grumble in response, and Michael chuckles quietly.

"Oh, come on - you guys know by now that's not good enough. You," he points to a random guy on the left side of the circle, "tell us about your Christmas." He reluctantly begins to talk, and Harry finally takes it upon himself to sneak a proper glance at Sophie - her defined side profile in his view, her lip taken between her teeth in concentration as she listens to the guy talk.

Sophie can feel Harry looking at her, but she doesn't dare look back. Her lips are twitching simply to whisper him a 'thank you' - that won't even begin to suffice. He'd flown her best friend across the country so that she could spend her Christmas with her - and she'd rejected him. She hadn't meant to - she truly hadn't meant to; that's what she's aching to say - that all she wants is for him to listen and to understand that there's so much more to it; so much more that he doesn't know, and that she's now ready to tell - but she doesn't know how to approach him.

Harry is different from anybody she's ever met. He's quiet; easily nervous. But she's fallen into pure infatuation with the way his eyes light up at any hint of a compliment; the way his cheeks flush when his tongue slips and he says something out of his comfort zone. The way that he's desperate to see what she's painting all the time, and the way that his hands still shake a little when they have a conversation; but once he begins to settle his arched eyebrows soften and his dimples show, as sometimes he laughs a little too loud and slaps his hand over his mouth in embarrassment.

Michael talks for another forty minutes, and then before Harry or Sophie have managed to get ahold of themselves - class has ended. Layla tries to start up another conversation with Harry, as he stands up, pulling his sweater sleeves over his fingers and dumping his coffee cup in the trash.

Sophie stands up, opening her mouth to speak, finally plucking up the will to take a step towards Harry, before Layla takes note of her advance, shooting her a quick glare and stepping in front of her, cutting off her access to Harry.

"Ha-" Sophie had barely begun, before Layla's voice sounded over hers'.

"Harry, where are you headed now?" Layla's shrill tone catches Harry's attention, and he reluctantly gives her a response. When he turns to look at Sophie, she's no longer looking at him, as she heads towards the door and leaves the room without another word. 

Harry can't help but watch her exit over Layla's shoulder, unable to stifle the sigh that falls from his tired lips, as he watches her walk away from him once again.

-

HELLO HOLY FUCK

it's been literally two months since i've posted an update on this book and im so sorry i've been so busy and i needed to get my priorities in check !!! i'll try and be more frequent with updates here but i hope this was worth the wait <3 

xoxoxoxo S