thirty-nine

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JANIE'S POV

I woke up in Harry's arms, protective and comforted. The morning light floods in from the window, shining down gloriously across our tangled bodies. The events of last night flash through my barely awake brain but all I can feel is drowsy warmth. 

I feel Harry shift behind me, his arms tightening comfortably around my frame. I hear him inhale deeply before nuzzling into my hair. 

"God, I love you," he whispers. My eyes fly open as I tense, revealing the fact that I am very much awake, resulting in him whispering "ohhh shit." I sit up suddenly and face him. His eyes are wide and wild as he scans my face quickly. 

"Janie--" he starts but I shake my head. 

"I gotta get out of here," I say under my breath throw the covers off of my naked body quickly.

I wordlessly fumble around the room, searching for my clothing. I grab my underwear, sliding them up my legs quickly. I spot where my bra has been thrown as move swiftly to grab it from the floor. 

"Janie, what's wrong baby?" He asks worriedly from the other side of the room. He pulls his own underwear up as he watches me with scared eyes. 

I wish I could explain it to him. I wish I could give him a reason why I flew out of bed and pulled my clothes on as quickly as I did. I wish there was a concrete reason why I felt the need to flee the scene as quickly as possible. But I'm not even entirely sure why I did. 

"Talk to me," he demands softly, crossing the room to where I was fumbling to pull my dress over my head. "Seriously, Janie. What the hell is wrong?" He reaches to touch my shoulder and when I pull away in response, hurt floods his features.

"I need to get out of here," I repeat myself, heart pounding out of my chest. "We can talk about it later, I just can't do it right now." 

"Can't do what?"

"This," I say, motioning between the two of us. "I just need a minute." I nod once before turning on my heel and walking out of his bedroom. My heart is pounding in my ears as he follows quickly on my trail, not letting me leave without a fight. 

"Did I do something wrong?" He asks from behind me, following me down the stairs. 

"No, Harry," I shake my head in protest. 

"Then what is it?" 

"I just need a minute," I repeat myself, my tone getting more aggravated. It wasn't towards him, he didn't do anything wrong. I just needed a minute, just a day to sort out how I'm feeling. To unpack those three little words he said. 

I reach the bottom of the stairs and look around for my bag, forgetting where I left it. I quickly find it on a table next to the staircase and sling it over my shoulder. 

"It's just me, Janie. I know you're scared, but I'm not Charlie. I'm not going to hurt you like he did." His words make my head snap up at where he was standing. Confusion swam in his eyes as he watched me 

"Don't do that," I spit, surprising myself with the anger in my tone.

"Do what?" He says, taken aback. 

"Psychoanalyze me."

"I'm not psychoanalyzing you, Janes, I--"

"Yes, you are. You don't know me well enough to do that," I shake my head and I feel guilt flood through my veins at my own words. 

"I don't know you?" He asks in pure shock, his face scrunched up in confusion. 

"No, you don't." 

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