Love after the Forum [Love at the Forum Sequel]

Chapter 8: Not Charles

I sat at the pub from the day before on my third beer. I was thankful the bartender knew Harry well enough and remembered me as I didn't have my wallet.

I traced the rim of my beer glass as I bit into a fry. I hated that I ran out on Harry like I did. I hated that he probably thought I was making it all about myself. I hated myself for not telling him what was going on back home.

I knew in my heart he would understand if I explained everything, but I didn't want to be saved. Not again. I didn't want him to feel a responsibility to help me like Charles did.

Charles, that was the other thing. I knew once I did explain everything, he would be so upset at me for telling Charles and not him. I kept digging my hole deeper and somehow blaming everyone else.

Of course not excusing Olivia's stupid article, but I knew I could have handled this better if I didn't have fifty other things piling on me. I didn't know who this person was. I hated not having a plan, a timeline, an answer. My ever so put together self was suddenly a giant mess.

Harry's POV

I paced around my living room checking my phone consistently, even though I knew she left her phone here.

"Where could she be?" I said to Becca, who was laying on the couch.

"Harry, she can't be far. She doesn't even have her purse on her."

"I'm just going to go look for her. I can't just wait around anymore."

I went into the room and grabbed my sweater and one for her, knowing she left without one and it was cold outside. My phone started ringing and it was Floyd from the pub down the street.

"Hello?" I said, placing the phone on speaker as I slipped on my sweater.

"Haz, can you come down? Your friend fell asleep, I may have served her one too many beers."

"My friend? Small, brunette?"

"Yup. And she's got a hefty tab I need paid."

I sighed rubbing my hand through my hair, "Thanks mate. I'll be right there."

I walked out past Becca, yelling out to her as I made my way out the door, "I found her Becks, I'll be back."

I quickly ran out and hopped in my car, not giving her a chance to ask questions.

At the pub, I walked, quickly making my way to the bar, "Hey mate." I called out to Floyd.

He turned to me, handing me a tab when he realized it was me and nodded his head to a back round booth, "Don't worry, I've kept the creeps away."

I threw some money on the bar to cover the tab, and some extra for Floyd, "Thanks again."

I made my way over to the booth, and when I got close enough, I saw my beautiful mess. Her hair in a messy bun, that I just knew she did and undid a couple times, until finally settling on the small nest of hair. Her head was nestled in her folded arms, and a single empty beer glass was left next to her.

The thing about seeing someone like Maggie a mess was, that it hurt more than it should. She was always so put together. So on top of everything. That when she crashed, she really burned herself down.

What hurt even more is knowing it was my circumstances that had made her burn down this time.

I slid slowly into the booth, as to not scare her, and kissed her cheek softly, whispering, "Maggie. Maggie honey, wake up baby."

She stirred a bit, before squeezing her eyes, opening them slowly, "Harry?" she whispered.

"Yeah baby, it's me."