Dear Jen,

                 I've not had a nightmare in forever! The last time I remember waking up to a cold sweat was three years ago when I bumped into Gregg at the grocery store. Now—as I lay in bed, gasping for breath—I wish more than anything you were here.

"Anna?"

I told Harry.

I hope you don't mind.

"Anna!"

The mattress dips as he clambers in the darkness to check on me.

"It's just a nightmare," he soothes, lightly caressing my arm.

My eyes adjust to the darkness and I notice he's shirtless. Smooth and defined, his muscles stare back at me. In the years I've know Harry, I've never seen him without clothes on. I've studied his body on numerous occasions and have imagined it countless times, but nothing compares to the real thing.

"I'm just—just—"

"Take deep breaths," he encourages, gently placing his hand on my stomach. "You're okay."

I do as instructed and inhale through my nose. An image of Gregg flashes behind my eyes and I freak out, feeling as though he's in the room with us.

"Anna, I need you to breathe," instructs Harry, turning on the lamp.

In seconds, the room is illuminated and his toned torso is all I can see. I dread to think what I must look like with messy hair and pyjamas wet with sweat.

"Anna."

His words fail to initiate calmness and before I know what's happening, he's tugging at my drenched top.

"Can I take this off?" he asks, waiting for my consent before committing to anything.

"Yes."

He pulls the material over my head, leaving me in my lace bralette. I'm not at all embarrassed to have him see me like this, and that alone should terrify the life out of me.

"Come here," he says, positioning himself at the head of the bed.

He guides me to sit between his legs and encourages me to lie back, his front pressed to my back.

"Breathe when I breathe," he instructs.

I close my eyes and focus on his movements, replicating each breath. I reach for something to ground me and end up grabbing his hand, holding on for dear life. His fingers entwine with mine, silently conveying his support.

"You're doing great," he encourages.

His chest presses into my back and I inhale, allowing the flow of oxygen to light me up from the inside out. Bit by bit, I feel myself calming down and eventually find myself breathing independently. Harry is warm to the touch and I find his heat a huge comfort. His skin is smooth as it moulds to mine and although I feel guilty for thinking this, there's nowhere else I'd rather be.

"Thank you," I breathe, exhausted from my panic attack.

He holds me in place against his chest and squeezes, making sure to rid any potential worries still plaguing my mind. I can feel the steady rhythm of his heart and stare up at the ceiling, entrapped by the peace washing through me.

"Better?" he asks.

"Much better," I reply.

Jen—your boyfriend is amazing.

"Thank you."

"Do you want me to stay here?" he whispers, unable to speak his question any louder.

Yes.

"You're Jen's boyfriend," I say instead.

This extinguishes any heat previously between us.

"I meant as a friend," he defends.

Yeah, right!

"Harry—"

"Anna, I'm not Jen's boyfriend anymore. She's dead."

His words—although brutal—are true.

And as much as I hate that you are, I have to let you go, Jen.

"Okay," I agree. "You can stay, but will you put a shirt on please."

He laughs. "Does the sight of me shirtless repulse you?"

The opposite, actually.

"Yes. I'm disgusted," I say.

He smirks. "There she is."

"Who?"

"The Anna I know and lo—" he coughs. "Lemme grab a shirt."

I scoot across and make room for him, feeling much happier about sharing a bed with him now that he's covered up his top half. Still, his smell is intoxicating and attacks just about all my senses. I turn my back on him and am pleased when he doesn't follow and spoon me from behind.

Is Harry even a hugger in bed, Jen?

I feel fucking awful for even asking that. What kind of friend am I?

"This isn't weird is it?" he asks, needing validation.

"It is a little bit weird," I admit, facing the darkness. "I can't stop thinking about Jen."

"Why? It's not like we're kissing or anything."

"But do you want to?" I ask, needing his truth.

"Want to what?"

"Kiss me?"

Oh, shit!

"Actually, don't answer that!" I quickly twist in my position and cover his mouth with my hand. "I don't want to know."

He licks my palm and I pull back, utterly repulsed.

"That was gross!" I complain.

He laughs. "Anna."

"Yes?"

"Do you want to kiss me?"

My stomach flips. "No."

Another laugh.

"I just want to be kissed."

He bolts up in surprise. "You've never been kissed?"

I shrug.

"Anna?"

"No. I just—couldn't. Not after Gregg."

He stares at me a moment; half stunned, half in awe.

"Whenever the opportunity presented itself, I would freak out."

He cups my cheek, soothing away the bad memories.

"Let's change that," he vows.

My heart picks up, thinking he's going to kiss me. But he doesn't, thankfully.

"Let's add that to Jen's bucket list. Let's find someone who can give you the mother of all first kisses."

I laugh.

"I'm serious. Let's travel Europe looking for the perfect guy!"

I think about it for a moment, not entirely opposed to the idea. It will certainly take my mind off of kissing Harry.

"Okay," I agree. "But no douchebags!"

"Of course."

"And no clingers!" I insist. "I want a kiss, not a boyfriend."

He smiles, linking his pinkie with mine. "I promise."

He lies back down and this time, he's much closer to my side of the bed. I can feel the heat rolling off of his body, and secretly bask in the calmness that comes with it. Just last week, I swore I hated Harry. Now, he's making it his mission to travel Europe in the hopes of finding me the perfect first kiss. If only he knew how much I wanted my first kiss to be with him.

No—Jen—I swear I won't do that to you. Harry is off limits. A total no-go. And finding someone else to fill that role is going to be the perfect distraction from my growing feelings.

If I need to move on from you, I need to move on from him too.

Lot of love,
Anna xo