"I think I'm gaining a little flab," Harry pokes at his stomach, pressing his finger into the fabric of his white t-shirt and shoving a pastry into his mouth. I laugh at how he contradicts himself as he continues to poke at his stomach while chewing on the pastry. "We might need to stay some place that has a gym tonight."

"You are not gaining flab," I roll my eyes at him.

"Oh really?" he turns his head to me, crumbs falling out of his mouth as he talks. Somehow even with his sloppiness and the eyes he's giving me like he doesn't believe a single thing I just said he still manages to be uncontrollably attractive. "Come over here and feel then," he says it like it's a challenge.

He nods his head, inviting me closer to him. I stand up from my cushioned seat in the coffee shop and nearly trip over my backpack on the way over but I make it to his, sitting on the arm of the chair. He grabs my wrist moving my hand to his stomach and presses it down firmly. Even through the fabric I can feel his warm skin, and despite his pastry stuffing mouth that insists he's gaining flab, I feel nothing close to squishiness.

"See," he raises his eyebrows at me. "I'm getting soft."

"You're so dramatic, Harry," I laugh at him because the only thing I feel is hard muscles.

He smiles at me again, wrapping an arm around my waist and then looks up from where I sit above him. "That's because I was flexing. Here, feel now," he breathes out, speaking quietly to me. His stomach becomes less tense but there isn't much of a change.

"Okay, maybe a little flab," I smile at him, my tone clearly showing that I'm joking. "Maybe you should lay off the pastries."

Harry stick his tongue out at me with laughter following. His arm wraps tighter around my waist to where I almost falling off the arm of the chair and straight into his lap.

"I'm only joking, Harry," I smile at him sweetly, patting the top of his head. "Don't mind a little squish. It isn't fun to cuddle with a rock."

"So you appreciate the flab for cuddling purposes?"

"Yes," I nod, laughing quietly. "You have the optimal amount of flab."

"Flab and abs?"

"Mhmm," I smile at him. "Now stop worrying about that."

He nods his head, grinning widely and I know with the look on his face that the conversation wasn't at all serious. Harry is just being his normal silly self, trying to get a reaction out of me and it feels so nice that it's back to this.

Even with the confession and apologies there wasn't an immediate switch back to purely happy moments with us. It's only been a few days since that not so great night and with every day that passes his carefree attitude begins to return more and more.

The rest of the day after our intense morning talk was spent catching up on sleep. Harry needed it for his head and I needed it because it felt like we had been going nonstop for days. He didn't say a lot for the rest of the day, still appearing a little sad, but he managed to squeeze in at least a dozen more apologies. It was sweet and of course I appreciated it, but he's been very cautious the last few days. Like he's afraid to get too close or to kiss me for too long and truthfully I don't want him thinking that much into it.

I'm not this fragile flower that can easily be crushed by one person kicking around in the dirt. I understand why Harry's being cautious and it's obvious that he hasn't stopped thinking about the small incident that night, but at this point it almost feels like he's overthinking it.

It's nice that he's concerned because it shows even more how he truly feels about me and that I'm not just this thing he wants to conquer. But at the same time I don't want him babying me through it. I've always known what I wanted and generally I do a good job of getting myself there. I don't need him to be overly careful around me.

"Thanks for the reassurance, sweet girl," he rubs the side of my arm, his fingers brushing softly over my skin. "Sure means a lot coming from you. Glad my flab can make you happy," he chuckles lowly as I shake my head.

"Your non-existent flab," I correct him.

"Right," he nods. Then he kisses lightly on my shoulder because that's the only thing he can really get to with me sitting above him right now. He smiles up at me, a full one too with teeth and everything, and I decide that everything is going to be okay.

It feels like one of the first genuine smiles on his face since the drunken night. He's smiled in between of course, even when Harry's thinking hard about something he still smiles. But they always felt like the kind that's trying to cover up other emotions. Even though there was no strong significance to this moment right now it got a true smile out of him, one where his eyes almost sparkle, and I feel like I can finally let out a sigh of relief.

Of course I've been worried about him. Even though I feel like we're in a much better place since our talk I can still see things are bugging him. He lets it out every once in a while, shows some sign of annoyance or sadness or frustration, but for the most part it feels like he just tries to laugh it off.

I look away from him for a moment, my eyes searching past the corner of the coffee shop we secluded ourselves in and watch people going about their lives. It isn't extremely busy in here, but enough that the majority of the seats are occupied. It feels nice to be in here reading, talking, drinking coffee, and doing something that many other people do. I love all the moments with Harry that feel unique and sometimes a little strange, but there is something about these simple moments that warm my heart too.

I guess it feels reassuring that maybe Harry and I can make it through it all. It doesn't matter if we're on some overdramatic adventure Harry's made up in his head or simply sitting with each other in silence. It all feels easy. Even with the bad moments and the silly arguments over things that only happen because it's been a long day of traveling, I still feel this sense that this is the one thing in my life that is 100% right.

I know this relationship is new and we're only in the stage where we shouldn't have gotten sick of each other yet. But it's also different for us because from what I know, new couples don't spend every single moment of the day together for weeks at a time. I know we'll have many other trying moments, ones I can't even imagine right now, ones that will feel like they'll break us... but at the moment I feel optimistic.

Harry and I have almost done this backwards. We practically live together and we have been since the second day of knowing each other. It doesn't make a lot of sense when you compare it to the way it's typically done, but it makes sense for us.

"Do you want some more coffee?" he asks me as he begins to stand up from the chair, his arm no longer around my waist. "I think I'm going to get more. Or tea?"

"More coffee sounds nice," I smile at him, moving my hands to rest in my lap.

"Want cream?"

"Just a little, but no sugar."

"Got it," he nods. "Be back soon," he kisses my forehead quickly then turns around, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket while he walks to the counter to order.

I watch him as he walks away and then stand up from the arm of his chair and walk the two feet over to mine, flopping onto the velvety cushions. I pick up the magazine I was flipping through earlier, tucking my legs in and leaning back to reread the article I was distracted away from.

My thoughts are fully consumed by the words on the paper for a few minutes. And when I move my eyes over the page and look to the counter where Harry's at, he's bent over, looking in a stroller, making funny faces at a baby who is giggling loudly at Harry's silliness. The mother of the baby is smiling widely as she watches Harry interact with her child and I'm sure I'm making a facial expression very similar to hers. If I thought Harry hanging out with Charlie was overwhelmingly adorable, this is at an even more extreme level.

Harry is surprisingly different than most boys my age when it comes to children. While I'm positive he doesn't want a kid right at this moment I can tell it's something that he's very much looking forward to. It feels like when you typically mention the idea of kids to someone our age they want to run to do the door at thought, it even scares me tremendously, but Harry loves babies and they love him right back.

When I feel my phone buzz in my lap it pulls me away from watching Harry play with the baby while he waits for our coffee. I pick it up, prepared to acknowledge it and then go back to admiring Harry but when I notice the name on the screen the thoughts of that are suddenly gone.

Blair.

I haven't talked to her since our argument. When I first called home she didn't want to talk to me. Laurel told me it was because she was scared that I was angry with her, I understood but it still hurt. Every other time I've called home it's been bad timing. She's either at one of the extracurricular activities my mom forced her to sign up for or busy with something else. I've thought about calling her directly but I guess I was scared that she was angry with me too.

I know it's silly for us to be acting this way because we're sisters. But we all do silly things that don't make a lot of sense sometimes.

The phone continues to buzz in my hand as she calls me and it takes a few seconds of me staring at it before I finally answer.

"Hello?" I stumble on the word. "Blair?"

"Greta?" her voice is shaky on the other side, clearly distraught.

"Blair? Are you okay?" I ask sensing that something is up. It might just be the same sort of reaction Laurel and my parents had when I first spoke to them after leaving, simply feeling emotional, but my gut is telling me otherwise.

"Do you think I'm a bad person?" she asks and it sounds like she's on the verge of tears. "Do you think I've messed everything up?"

My heart breaks into two hearing her ask this. Even with our disagreements and the differences in our personalities, it has always upset me when Blair feels like this. When we were younger and my mom yelled at her for something I would cry right along with her. Usually she deserved it because she was being a brat about something, but I always sympathized with her. She's my baby sister and even if I haven't talked to her in nearly two months, this moment doesn't hurt any less.

"What?" I ask with my voice cracking as I say the word. "Of course not, Blair. You aren't even close to being a bad person. Why would you think that?"

"Because I'm the reason you left," she says it quietly, almost like she's said it so many times in her head that she's not sure what's real anymore. "Right? You left because of me... it was my fault."

"No, no," I'm quick to stop her before she continues on the self-loathing thought. "That was part of it, but don't blame it on yourself. I am perfectly capable of making decisions that don't lead us to things like this, and I didn't. It isn't your fault and you're not a bad person."

"But-,"

"Blair," I try not to let my emotions influence my tone, trying to appear strong. "You made a mistake... not even that it was a mistake, you're just so young. You're certainly not the only person to have done that and you absolutely won't be the last. You're just so young," I repeat. "It worried us. You know that's the only reason why we were angry, because we love you, right?

"Yes," she sniffles. "Yes, I know that. I'm so sorry, Greta."

"You really can't be putting all of the blame on yourself," I continue, hoping to get her into a better place in her mind. "That's what life is about, Blair. Sometimes you have to make the wrong decision to learn. You'll be doing plenty more of that, trust me... I'm sorry for leaving you and making you think it was your fault. I don't want that."

"You don't think I've ruined my life?"

"What?" I almost feel like laughing, but stop myself before it actually happens. "No, not at all. You're thirteen, you have plenty more of life to get through and at some point this moment won't even feel like a big deal. You might even laugh about it."

It's easy to assume when you're young that one wrong decision is going to impact everything about your future. In some ways it does because you have to make a decision on how to handle it. But for the most part it won't be a concern years from now when you're looking back on it and you'll wonder why it felt like such a big deal at the time.

While this moment with Blair is a little more on the serious side, I know that someday she'll realize it's just a small part of her life and it won't affect the person she is in the long run.

"I don't think I'll laugh about it," I hear her voice again and there is slightest amount of happiness in it as she sniffles. "I'm sorry I said that I hated you... I don't hate you, at all. I didn't mean it."

"I know that, Blair."

"I was just scared."

"I know, Blair," I repeat, hoping she'll really believe me. "It happens... it hurts of course, but sometimes you say things that you don't mean."

For the entire length of my conversation with Blair I've been busy picking at lose strings from the hole in my jeans near my knee, trying to focus on her words instead of busy coffee shop around me. And when I look up for the first time in minutes I see Harry walking back to our corner with two mugs in his hand and a smile on his face. He says some parting words to the baby and the mother he was talking with and then turns back to look at me, appearing confused as he notices me on the phone.

When he reaches where I'm sitting his face stays the same, setting the coffee mug on the table in front of me. He can obviously tell this isn't a casual conversation with Laurel or even me filling my mom in on the basic details that I'm okay. He can that it's much more serious.

I whisper, "It's Blair," to him, pulling the phone away from my mouth temporarily. He nods his head with his eyebrows still scrunched together and then takes a sip from his mug.

"I think I'm doing it again," I hear Blair's voice, pulling my attention away from Harry. "I think I'm making a mistake."

The way she says this scares me, like something is seriously wrong. My heart starts to beat faster as I try to process what she's just said. And it's clear that my reaction is obvious because Harry scoots closer to me, putting his hand on my shoulder.

"What do you mean, Blair?" I ask, trying to remain calm and not jump to conclusions. "Why do you think you're making a mistake?"

She doesn't answer right away, silence on the other side of the phone, and my mind is losing its ability to stay collected.

"Remember Danielle?" she finally answers, bringing relief to my shakiness for a moment. "She was the girl I was with when... you know," she pauses for a moment and I tell her yes. "I told Mom I was going to knitting club she made me join, but I'm not there. I'm with Danielle and her boyfriend, and I don't want to be. I don't think I should be here."

"Why? What's happening?"

"Nothing at the moment," she says slowly. "But I don't have a good feeling about it. Something feels off... like it did before."

Blair has always had a good solid group of friends growing up who are all extremely nice girls with parents who really stay on top of their lives, making sure they don't grow up too quickly. Unfortunately within the last year Blair has started hanging out with a few people who are older than her. And I'm not saying this is true of every one of them but they certainly haven't been an amazing influence on her.

"Blair, I think you should leave then," I tell her quickly, hoping I can help her even though I'm miles and miles away. "You don't owe her anything, you can leave. If you don't feel safe then you shouldn't stay. Get on a bus and go home or walk, doesn't matter... just leave if it doesn't feel right."

"I'm so stupid," she sighs out. "I should have known this was a bad idea. I don't know what I was thinking."

"You're not stupid," I try to convince her. Even if I do think she's a little stupid for hanging out with Danielle again I don't see how telling her this will help anything at the moment. "Just go home, okay? "

"I can't," she sounds nervous again, talking quieter now. "We're not in Portland. Not far outside of it... but too far to walk. And I don't know the busses here."

The nervousness from before returns once I realize that she doesn't have a way out. I look over at Harry who is staring back at me and still holding onto my shoulder. He blinks slowly like he's trying to figure out how to help me and I hope if keep staring at him an answer will pop into my head.

I'm not sure if it's because of Harry but after a few seconds of silence something does.

"I'll call Pat," I tell her. "He'll come pick you up. Just walk to a gas station or something, somewhere you feel safer and he'll come and get you."

"Pat is going to yell at me," she says quickly, not liking the entirety of my solution. "Can't you call Laurel? Pat is almost worse than Mom."

"Laurel is already back at school," I remind her. "She's too far away. I'm going call Pat, okay? He'll understand."

Blair is right, in some ways Pat will be worse than my mom. He easily gets worked up over something, letting his immediate emotions take over any sensible actions. But part of me feels like Blair already knows her mistake and is punishing herself enough for it, so sending my mom is my last resort. Pat will give her a good enough lecture without adding even more to her current punishment.

"Okay," she agrees. "I miss you, Greta."

"I miss you too," I tell her and truly mean it. I like where I am right now, I love being with Harry, but I still miss home at times and more specifically the people I left behind. "It's going to be okay, Blair. I promise. Just tell her you need to leave and go somewhere else. I'll make sure Pat gets there soon."

"Thank you," she breathes out, sounding relieved. "I love you."

"I love you too," I say quietly and it feels so nice considering where we were before this conversation. "If you need to, you can call me back but I'm going to get Pat, okay?"

"Okay," she responds quickly. "Bye."

I end the call and quickly scroll through my phone, dialing Pat's number from memory. I hear Harry to the side of me and I briefly look up at him, before pressing the call button on my phone.

"Is everything okay?" Harry asks me as the phone stars ringing in my ear. "Is Blair alright?"

"Yes and no," I answer him. "It's going to be okay. I don't think she's in danger or anything... she's just not in a good situation. It should be okay though."

Harry nods his head and squeezes on to my shoulder a little tighter. I can tell he's trying to do his best of supporting me with this even though he has no idea what's going on. He continues to sit as close as he can from our separate chairs, looking at me like he wants me to know he'll do anything to help.

"Oh, look who it is," Pat's voice interrupts the ringing of my phone and I let out an annoyed sigh. "Little miss runaway is finally calling her brother after, what has it been... two months?"

I've also managed to avoid Pat when calling home, although that one was somewhat on purpose. I love Pat but he can be very snarky and I knew he'd only make me feel guilty for leaving, which was something I hadn't been ready to face until now. And sure enough the first thing he says to me fits just along these lines. I don't think he means to be this way. It's just how he copes with things.

"Pat, I don't have time for this," I say shortly, not wanting to give into our normal back and forth. "I'm sorry for not calling, but we can talk about that later. Blair needs you to pick her up... I'll tell you the address when she texts it to me."

"Why would I do that?" he asks, frustrating me even more. "I have a life you know. Ashley is over right now."

Pat doesn't live with my parents anymore but in an apartment where his girlfriend Ashley is constantly over. It doesn't surprise that this is his first reaction to my request because he likes to be difficult almost anytime we have a conversation. But I honestly am not in the mood for it after getting off the phone with Blair and hearing how upset she was.

"Just be a good fucking older brother for once and pick her up," the words slip out of my mouth with my frustration. And when I briefly look over at Harry his eyes are wide, surprised by my reaction considering how calm I normally am. "Please. She isn't where she's supposed to be right now and she needs help."

"Okay," he responds quickly, the snarky tone completely absent from his voice now. "Yeah, I'll go. What's going on?"

Even if Pat is a dick a good percentage of the time, he cares about us. He can pretend all he wants that he wishes he was an only child or that he doesn't love his little sisters, but we all know better. He'll protect us when it really comes down to it and I know this is responsible for the immediate switch in his attitude.

"I think it's similar to before," I try to explain to him even though I don't really know myself. "I'm not sure but Blair doesn't sound too great, she needs our help."

"Yeah, alright," he says seriously and I hear him moving things around on the other side, like he's scrambling to get things together. "I'll leave now."

"Thank you," I breathe out, finally feeling relieved. "I'll figure out where she is."

It's quiet on the phone again but I hear the rustle of Pat walking quickly on the other side, saying something to Ashley. I look at Harry and I can tell he's trying to figure out if everything is okay now. I smile at him briefly then look down when I hear Pat's voice again.

"Greta?" he asks, still making sure I'm here and I respond in return. "I'm sorry... for, you know. I'm sorry for being me, or how I am sometimes. I miss you. It feels weird without you here, even after months... I've missed you."

"I miss you too, Pat," I tell him simply and I can't help but smile when I hear him say this. "Let me know once you've got Blair, yeah?"

"Sure thing," he says, breathing out loudly and I hear the slam of a car door. "Talk soon, love you."

I say the same thing back to him and then end the call, finally feeling like I can breathe properly again. I text Blair asking where she is, hoping to relay the message of her location onto Pat, and then I set my phone on the table in front of my seat. I turn to Harry again and he's staring back at me, anxiously awaiting some sign of something good and all I do is stare as I try to figure out what to say.

"You okay?" he asks sweetly, speaking quietly.

"Yeah," I nod. "Just a lot stuff all at once. Haven't talked to them since I left and... it's just a lot to take in."

He reaches for my hand, squeezing tightly and smiles at me like he understands exactly how I feel. I look at him for a few more seconds and then turn to the coffee he returned with while I was forced to remember moments of the past that were creeping their way in. I grab the mug by the handle, taking a slow sip because it's hard to tell just how hot it is, then set it back down on the table.

I look at Harry again who is still watching me carefully as though he's ready to jump in the moment I say I need him and I automatically feel a little better. I stand up from my cushioned chair again, moving back to his and sit on his lap, resting my head on to his chest.

He doesn't hesitate to hug me, even though these last few days he's been much more careful about how close his touch is. I think he realizes now that I need this closeness so he decides to forget whatever rules he's made up in his head.

"I saw you talking to the baby," I smile, breathing in the smell of his clean t-shirt.

"Yeah?" he laughs quietly and I can feel his heart beat in his chest.

"Yeah," I whisper. "It was really cute, made me smile."

"Good," he breathes out, kissing the top of my head as he continues to hug me. "Cute kid. He was a happy baby that's for sure."

"Can't blame him," I smile again. "He was looking at your face."

We're quiet for a few moments and I try to focus on the sound of Harry's heart, blocking out the noise around us. I'm not extremely keen on public displays of affection and for the most part Harry and I keep it to a minimum, but I don't care right now. I need this.

I close my eyes for a moment, feeling Harry's hand rub up and down my arm. When I hear his voice I open my eyes again, leaning my neck back to look at him, laughing as soon as I register what he's said.

"So," he smirks, pushing my hair to the side with his hand. "How does the flab feel?"