CHAPTER 12
casey
I ’m alone. And I hate being alone. My house is too big, my walls too white. My thoughts too loud, too enormous, too unsettled. I shouldn’t be left alone. Doesn’t anyone realise that I shouldn’t be left alone?
I almost begged Harrison to come home with me at the airport earlier this morning. But he’d been giving me some vibes that he maybe needed a break from me. And I get that. I know I’m a lot. I know I lean on him more than I should but he’s just … my Harry. And Harry is my best friend.
And best friends phone each other, right? Like, it would be totally acceptable for me to just pick up my phone and call him. That would be well within the boundaries of best friendship. Like having full access to his dimples. It’s just the same really.
I sigh and throw my phone to the other end of the sofa and try to ignore it. Netflix is on in the background and it’s competing for my attention. There’s a lot of sex on the screen. A lot of skin and naked bodies and jiggling parts getting it on in a way that is kind of sexy.
I sigh and reach for my phone. I dial Harrison’s number before I can stop myself.
“Case,” he says. I can hear the smile in his voice, can hear his cosiness and the way his dimple shines when he looks at me. He sounds sleepy and I picture him lying on his sofa, those long legs taking up all the space, his brown curls loose around his face.
“Hey,” I say. “Am I disturbing you?”
“You never disturb me,” he replies. I smile and relax further into the sofa.
“What are you doing?”
“Just lying here on the sofa, flicking through Netflix. What are you doing?”
“Same. Just put on a show and thought of you.”
“What are you watching? I’ll watch with you.”
“Okay,” I say with a grin on my face. I tell him the name of the show and he sets it to play. I restart the episode which is no issue as I’d only been watching the sexy bits anyway so we can watch together. Kind of.
I can hear the opening credits of the program down the line and settle back into the sofa a little more, getting nice and comfy. “So what did you do today?”
Harrison chuffs a laugh. “I did some really boring but very necessary things that I shan’t bore you with the details of.”
“Please do bore me,” I protest. “I want to know.”
“Well, if you must know, I did three loads of washing including the sheets and towels and then I wandered down to the corner shop for supplies for the week.”
“For your gross green smoothies?”
“They are not gross, thank you very much,” he huffs. “I’m going to make you a smoothie next time you’re here. And you’re going to love it.”
“Agree to disagree. But I’ll try it. For you. Cos we’re best friends.”
“Right. Yes. Best friends,” he replies. I hear him shuffling a little and picture him settling into the sofa more.
Like I’m doing on my end of the line. “And then I made the mistake of phoning my sister and that ended up being an hour of her mostly talking down at me from her lofty height of perfect daughter status.” His voice is full of fondness, and I smile even though I don’t recall him mentioning a sister before.
“You have a sister?”
“I do. She’s five years older than me and thinks that makes her an authority figure.”
“Ha,” I bark out. “I have a sister too but she’s, like, ten years younger than me. Pretty sure she was an oops baby but neither mum or dad will confirm or deny.”
“Yes, well, it’s rather uncomfortable talking to one’s parents about the act of making babies.”
“That’s a truth I cannot deny. So what’s your sister’s name?”
“Henrietta.”
“You Thornfield’s really like your fancy names, huh?”
He chuckles, the sound buzzing down the phone line. “Traditional parents is all. What about your sister?”
“Would you believe me if I told you her name is Luna?”
“Why would I not believe that? It’s a lovely name,” he says. “Do you and Luna get along?”
“As much as it’s possible to get along with a hormonal twelve-year-old girl,” I grin. “But I do miss her. More than I thought I would.”
“Yes. They can be a real pain in the backside but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
I stretch out on the sofa, both of us quiet for a moment. Probably thinking about the sisters we both kind of miss but would deny ever admitting to the death.
“Hey, Case? This show is a bit naughty,” Harrison suddenly says. I glance across at the screen and just manage to hold in my laugh.
“Is it?” I reply, all innocence.
“Mmm. You like this kind of show?”
“It’s pretty good. Quite realistic I think,” I return.
“You think pinning your paramour up against the cowshed and railing them from behind is realistic, huh?” There’s a smile in his question.
“Definitely.”
“Huh. Maybe you’re a little more adventurous than I realised.” I laugh. He’s totally wrong. I am not adventurous. “You ever had sex like that?”
“Course,” I grin. “Who hasn’t?”
“Well, there’s not that many cowsheds lying about in London so can’t say I’ve crossed that particular bridge.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing, H,” I chuckle.
“Oh, it’s H now, is it? Harry wasn’t short enough for you?”
I shrug, aware he can’t actually see me. Maybe I should have FaceTimed him. Next time.
“Seemed more fitting,” I say.
“Fitting for watching this R rated sex scene on Netflix together you mean?” he chuckles.
“Exactly.”
We’re silent for the moment, watching the cowboy rail into his love interest, plenty of skin on display for the camera, and I feel myself getting slightly turned on.
“So, when you said earlier you were watching a show …” Harrison mulls thoughtfully. “And you said you thought of me?”
“Mmm?”
“Was it this scene that made you think of me?”
I burst out in a laugh, reading back on my earlier thoughts and where they had taken me. Cos in a way he’s kind of right. I was watching this very scene and thinking of Harrison. But that right there pretty much sums up my weird brain. Who knows what it’s thinking. I take no responsibility for it.
“Kinda, yeah,” I eventually admit. Harrison’s quiet on the other end of the line and I hope I haven’t offended him. “Not, like, in a bad way,” I hurry to add.
“Yeah. Course,” he replies but something sounds slightly off, and I grapple with what to say next.
“Sorry. I’m shit at boundaries,” is what I say.
He chuckles, soft and low. “I know, Casey. You don’t seem to know the word. But you don’t need to apologise for it. I think I like it about you.”
“You do?” I sigh, relief making me smile. “I never know. Some people just take me as I am, like Sonny for instance. Other people don’t know what to do with me.”
“And me? Where do I sit in that mix of people?”
“Ah, see that’s my dilemma. In my head you’re one of my people. Boundaryless. But I’m not sure if that’s just in my head and in truth I’m actually offending you constantly.”
Harrison is silent for a beat. Or two. “No, not in your head. I like being one of your people.”
I smile wide, the sounds of the rampant sex scene finally abating on the television screen. “See I knew that about you, Harry. I could tell from the moment we met. I can pick out my people in a crowd of a thousand.”
“That’s kind of sweet,” he mulls in return.
“I can be sweet.”
“Oh I know, darling, that’s not up for debate. You’re extremely sweet. I bet if I licked you you’d taste like candy.”
“Well,” I shrug. “Only one way to find out.”
Harrison splutters on the other end of the line. “Careful, Case. That sounds like flirting.”
“I can flirt with my best friends,” I reply. “That’s kind of the thing about having no boundaries.”
“So you think it’s within the best friend limits to lick each other, huh?”
“Definitely. Like poking your dimple.”
“I have never given you permission to touch my dimple,” he retorts, voice all gruff and cute.
“You’re funny, H,” I grin back. I can feel his answering smile down the line, and I tip my head back against the cushions. And because I’m feeling extra relaxed and cosy, I shove my hand down my pants for good measure because that sex scene has gotten me a little hot.
Besides, best friends shouldn’t mind if their best friend happens to touch themselves during phone calls. At least, I think that’s within the realms of best friendship. Either way, I don’t think I’m going to mention this to Harrison. Something tells me there might be a boundary there.
***
I wake up early the next morning to get dressed for dawn Pilates. I hope Harrison is still okay to make it because we ended up talking for hours on the phone last night. I gave him ample opportunities to hang up because I think we both knew I wasn’t going to be the one ending the conversation.
But he never did and so now I know stuff about Harrison that I’m pretty sure nobody else knows. Like how he tried out for the local soccer club when he was nine and made it onto the list only to discover he was really quite terrible at it but the club were desperate for numbers.
Of course, Harrison had called it football but everybody knows what is really meant by the word football.
And then Harrison told me about how a bunch of boys had been so mean to him that he ended up quitting the game after two seasons.
And how that had led him to sports physiotherapy because he really did still love the game but he had come to realise his skills were better directed off the field than on.
I learnt all about Henrietta and Harrison’s parents and the country manor they had grown up in in the Cotswolds that sounded so idyllic and even fancier than I had pictured in my head.
He told me about his first kiss and the first time he’d gone all the way even though he’d been very coy about giving me names. Or details. He doesn’t kiss and tell , apparently which is something I found classically Harrison.