Ease My Mind | Finley & Harlyn #1.5

Chapter 5

Finley

July 12th

3:08 AM CDT
Harlyn:
Morning love
Harlyn:
I know today's the day
Harlyn:
Just breathe
Harlyn:
And know that whatever happens, we'll figure it out
Harlyn:
I'm not going anywhere.
Harlyn:
This quintuple texting this is fun. Might do it more often.

Harlyn's messages are the first things I see when I wake up, as usual. And in my sleepy, happy haze, I miss the email notification below them until after I've answered him. When I do see it, I'm wide awake. I sit up, still tangled in my blankets, and stare at the email preview in my inbox, heart pounding. All I can see is "Dear Finley Bowers..."

Me:Are you free?Me:To call?

Harlyn:
Of course. You got the email?

I open the messenger app and press the call button with trembling fingers. It only takes a couple seconds and Harlyn's face pops up on the screen.

He smiles. "Hi, love."

"Hi," I whisper. And I hear it before I feel it. I'm breathing too fast.

"Hey. Breathe. It's alright. Look at me."

It's hard to make eye contact over a video call, but I try my hardest to keep his gaze through the slightly pixelated screen.

"Good. You ready?" I shake my head, and he smiles. "Finley Bowers. You're ready for anything."

"I don't think I'm ready for this."

"You want to know, right? One way or the other?"

"Of course."

"Then let's find out, yeah?"

He's good at this, talking me down. The first couple weeks, we floundered. Before, we'd been able to hug each other or hold hands. But without physical touch - the one thing that really grounds me and comforts him - we had to learn to use our words. Over text or on the phone, Harlyn has found ways to bring me back. And this morning is no different. I take a few deep breaths, untangling my legs from the blankets and sitting on the edge of my bed.

"Your hair is cute," Harlyn says.

I run my hand through my hair and check it in the camera facing me. It looks like it always does when I wake up - rumpled and sticking up at odd angles. I finally cut it when I got home, but it's almost long enough to push behind my ears again.

"You and my hair," I mumble, laughing. If only he was here to run his hand through it.

"Yeah, well," he says. "You ready?"

I nod, and finally click on the email. As hard as I try, my eyes jump to the third sentence, and my breath stutters again. "I got in."

"What?"

"I got accepted."

My brain, try as it might, cannot actually process what that means. I know what those words mean individually. But strung together...what does that mean? I read the whole email at least three times before Harlyn manages to get my attention again.

"Finley?"

I tear my eyes from the email and back up to Harlyn's face floating in the corner of the screen. He's grinning.

"Finley, you know what this means, right?"

I take a deep, shuddering breath. "Um. I'm not - My brain's not working right now. It's - um -"