Chapter 5: Two Lines
1485 Words
The tension didn’t leave.
It clung to my skin long after I walked away from his table, long after I forced myself to focus on other customers, other orders and other conversations.
Harry had said almost nothing to me all night, and somehow, that made everything worse.
Because when he spoke, he irritated me.
But when he didn’t, I thought about him.
Too much.
I hated that.
I hated the way my body still remembered him, like it hadn’t gotten the memo that he was exactly the kind of man I should avoid.
By the time my shift ended, I was exhausted mentally and emotionally.
I untied my apron and stepped out of the kitchen, towards the back exit, with Harry at the top of my mind.
“Stop thinking about him already, Mia,” I muttered to myself.
I grabbed my bag and headed toward the back exit before I did something I would regret, like walking back into the main finding area to purposely get Harry’s attention or something.
The cool night air hit me the moment I stepped outside, wrapping around my skin like a quiet warning.
For a second, everything felt still.
Then…
“You always run this fast after work?”
My heart dropped.
I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.
Of course, it was him.
I closed my eyes briefly before facing him.
Harry leaned casually against the wall, like he had all the time in the world. His suit jacket was gone, his sleeves rolled up slightly, exposing just enough of his forearms to make it annoyingly distracting.
“You’re following me now?” I asked with an expression of irritation.
His expression didn’t change.
“You walked out.”
“That’s usually what people do when their shift ends.”
His gaze lingered on my face, steady and unreadable.
“You didn’t look at me once.”
I let out a short laugh.
“That’s not true. I looked at you enough to take your order.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
I crossed my arms.
“Then what did you mean?”
He paused.
“You were avoiding me.”
I shrugged, forcing indifference.
“Maybe I just don’t like you. Besides, you barely said anything to me, except for when you felt you had some life advice to offer me,”
I snorted.
“Maybe that’s just how I am.”
“Then I think it’s time you took a deep look at yourself and fixed up,” I barked back.
He smirked.
“You know you weren’t this feisty while in bed.”
The words landed harder than they should have because he was right.
“That,” I said slowly, “was a mistake.”
His jaw tightened slightly.
“Was it really?”
I hesitated for a second, but he noticed.
He pushed himself off the wall, closing the distance between us in a few slow steps. Not rushed. Not aggressive.
Deliberate.
Like he knew I wouldn’t move.
The worst part? I didn’t.
“Say it again,” he murmured.
“What?”
“That it was a mistake.”
I lifted my chin.
“It was a mistake.”
His eyes dropped briefly to my lips.
Then back up.
“Then why are you still standing here?”
My breath caught.
Because I didn’t have an answer.
The silence stretched between us, thick and charged.
Dangerous.
“You should go,” I said finally.
But it didn’t sound convincing.
“You don’t mean that.”
My pulse jumped.
“I do.”
“Look at me and say it.”
I forced myself to meet his eyes.
Big mistake.
Because the moment I did, everything came rushing back.
The heat. The tension.
The way he had touched me was like he wasn’t asking for permission, but somehow still giving me the choice to walk away.
And I hadn’t. I swallowed.
“You should go,” I repeated.
Softer this time. Weaker.
Harry’s hand lifted slightly, like he was debating something.
Then his fingers brushed my wrist.
My breath hitched before I could stop it.
And that was it.
That was the moment everything snapped.
“Tell me to stop,” he said quietly.
I didn’t. I should have.
I knew I should have.
Instead, I stood there, completely still, as his hand slid from my wrist to my hand, his fingers curling around mine like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Say it, Mia.”
I shook my head.
His thumb brushed slowly over my knuckles, and the simple, soft contact sent a wave of heat through me that I couldn’t ignore anymore.
“This is a bad idea,” I whispered.
“Yes.”
“We shouldn’t–”
“No.”
I let out a shaky breath.
“This ends badly.”
“It probably will.”
He paused again.
“Tell me to stop.”
I looked at him.
Really looked at him this time.
I looked at the control he was barely holding, looked at the tension in his jaw, and I looked at the way he was waiting.
And that did something to me.
Something worse than if he had just taken what he wanted.
Because this?
This was a choice.
My choice.
Harry’s grip tightened slightly, as that small movement permitted him.
“Still think it’s a mistake?” he asked.
I exhaled slowly.
“Yes.”
“Then walk away.”
I didn’t.
“Stop talking.”
That was all it took.
He pulled me into the alley by the building and within seconds, his hand came up to my face, fingers brushing my jaw before tilting my head slightly.
And then his lips were on mine.
It was controlled. Intentional.
Like he was holding himself back even now.
I kissed him back, my hands gripping the front of his shirt as everything I had been trying to ignore came crashing to the surface.
“Harry,” I breathed against his lips.
“Say it again,” he murmured.
I shook my head.
“I shouldn’t.”
“Say it.”
I hesitated.
Then gave in.
“Harry.”
That was it.
Whatever restraint he had left snapped completely.
The next moment was a blur.
Movement. Heat.
His hand in mine again, pulling me with him.
I didn’t ask where we were going.
I didn’t care.
All I knew was that I wasn’t stopping him.
And he wasn’t stopping me.
The room was quiet.
Too quiet.
The kind of quiet that only comes after something intense.
Something irreversible.
I stared at the ceiling, my breathing slowly evening out as reality began to settle back in.
This had been a mistake.
Again.
I turned my head slightly.
Harry was sitting at the edge of the bed, his back to me, running a hand through his hair like he was trying to process what had just happened.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
“This changes nothing.”
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
I pushed myself up, grabbing the sheet around me.
“Good,” I said.
Because that’s what this was supposed to be.
Just another bad decision.
Right?
Harry stood, turning to face me.
His expression was unreadable again.
Like he had already locked everything away.
“You should head home,” he said.
I almost laughed.
“That’s it?”
“What were you expecting?”
I shook my head.
“Nothing.”
“Exactly.”
The words were cold.
And they did exactly what they were meant to do.
They reminded me of who he was.
And where I stood.
I forced a small nod.
“Right.”
Silence settled between us again.
Without looking at him.
“Goodnight, Mr. Michelson.”
I walked out without waiting for a response.
**********
The days that followed felt… off.
I was more tired than usual, and my body felt strange. Different.
At first, I ignored it. Blamed it on stress, on work, and really on everything except what my mind kept trying to circle back to.
Eventually, I couldn’t ignore it anymore.
Standing in the small shared bathroom at home, I stared down at the box in my hand that contained the home pregnancy test kit I was about to take.
“This is ridiculous,” I whispered.
But my fingers were already moving to open the box.
I told myself I was just being cautious.
Just ruling it out.
Nothing more.
Minutes later, I stood there, frozen, eyes closed with the small plastic stick in my hand.
Waiting. Hoping. Dreading.
I finally brought myself to open my eyes and look.
Two lines.
My breath stopped.
No.
No, no, no…
I blinked, staring harder as though the result might change if I looked at it long enough.
It didn’t.
It was positive.
- Writer
