Smooth Operator

Four

When Harry woke up the next morning he felt like he had been hit by a truck. He felt like he would have after a night of drinking tequila, only he didn't have an ounce to drink the night before.

Everything flooded back to him the moment his mind was awake enough to allow it, still crystal clear and burning. When he ended the call with Brielle, he tossed his phone to the end of his bed and pushed the heels of his palms into his eyes, feeling the wetness seep from his lashes onto his skin.

The way he felt when he talked to her was unlike anything he ever felt before, the feeling only intensifying every time they coaxed each other to their orgasms.

The words spilled out of him the same way his orgasm did. He had no control over it, too overwhelmed with how he felt about her to stop. He replayed the way he practically begged for her; reached his hand out for her to take but was left standing alone.

He watched her call come through the night before, choosing not to answer it. His throat burned with emotion as his vision blurred from the tears brimming his lash line. He rubbed his palms into his eyes as he took a deep breath before placing it face down on his nightstand.

Normally he had an antsy feeling in the morning, eager to start the day with a message to her or to find her reply from whatever he said the night before. But not this morning. This morning he didn't want to see another simple call me message from her.

He left his phone in his jacket during his guitar lessons. He kept it face down when he was watching Netflix that night. The more he told himself to get over it, he figured the better off he'd be.

But when his willpower wasn't strong enough and he found himself pulling up their text thread, he couldn't help the sinking feeling he had deep in his chest. So he muted their chat, out of sight and out of mind. At least that's what he told himself. But she wasn't out of his mind. Not even a little bit.

***

Brielle woke up much earlier than she would have liked on a Sunday, the chill of her room making her shiver. As her eyes blinked slowly, adjusting to the sunrise filtering in from her window, she thought the same thing she did every morning. She thought of him.

Those first few seconds were bliss, her mind conjuring up an image of him laying next to her, pale green eyes already looking back at her. But just as quickly as she imagined it, reality snuck back in.

They hadn't spoken in two weeks, and every day broke her heart a little more. When Harry ended the call that night she tried calling him back immediately, crying harder when he ignored her. She was overwhelmed and taken by surprise, never expecting that he actually wanted them to meet. If she had some time to process it and think it over, she wondered if she would have reacted differently. But when he sprung it on her the way he did, all she felt was nerves and anxiety.

She had plenty of time to think about it now. It still made her nervous, but not enough that she wanted this to continue. This silence; this torture. She missed him. It's crazy how he is the very first thing she thinks about when she wakes up. But now as she thinks back, he had been her first thought for a while. She fooled herself into thinking the reason she thought of him as soon as she opened her eyes was because of the text that was undoubtedly waiting for her. She didn't have his morning texts anymore, but she was still thinking about him.

She pulled her phone from under her pillow, checking their text field to find nothing, again. She sent him a few texts, all sitting in their chat, unresponded. The first few he saw, the double blue checks being lit up beside them, but the rest were unread.

When he ignored her first call she texted asking for him to call her back, remembering how she watched the message mark as read, waiting a few minutes for a reply that never came. She tried again the next morning only for the same thing to happen. Watching him read her messages and choosing not to respond felt like a knife stabbing into her stomach and twisting with every message that he ignored.