All Chapters of It should have been just once: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Harriet~ “He knows you've been eye fucking him all evening,” Shirley says taking a sip of her alcoholic drink. The music isn’t loud enough that anyone needs to shout but it’s enough to keep the party I’m at moving. “You can't blame me, he looks so good I am actually down to reach second base with him, despite him being a total stranger,” I tell her trying to pretend like he didn't just catch me staring at him again Shirley whistles. “Go girl. Never thought I'd see the day you'd go wild. If you keep at it you may get rid of that card tonight.” I blush furiously looking around to see if anyone else had just heard what she said. “You’re loud Shir, besides I said just second base. I’m not having sex with a stranger.” She shrugs and takes another sip of her drink. I take a chug of mine as well noting that I’ve barely paid it attention in the past half an hour and it’s getting warm. Shirley and her boyfriend made come home a day earlier than I was supposed to just to make me tag

Harriet~ “Hi mum, I just arrived.” I lie getting ready to head home. My foster parents have no idea that I’ve been back for a day now, came in yesterday, attended a party with Shirley and fucked a stranger named Von out of my own sheer stupidity and I can’t even find a place in me to regret it. I’m no longer a virgin but I can’t even tell Shirley the story because she probably won’t understand. “Hi darling, did you get my text last night?” I check my phone to see it had come in around the same time Von was giving me aftercare. Wait. “Mum what do you mean by I’d be spending the Christmas with Dev? I haven’t seen him in years and suddenly You're leaving me alone with him?” Dev was the boy who loved me like a sister just before we got adopted. After our adoption we grew so wide apart that he only spoke to my foster parents not me, for reasons I never knew. “Listen baby…” I cringe as the endearment, the lady person who called me that was a stranger and he was touching me

Harriet~ By the time we finish eating, the whole house smells like onions and pepper and something faintly citrusy that must’ve been on Devon’s hands. He barely speaks while we wash up. He just nods when I pass him a plate, grunts something that sounds like thanks, and keeps his gaze fixed anywhere except on me. It’s ridiculous because he’s seen every part of me, dragged orgasm out of me with a stranger’s ease, but now he can’t even look at my face. Fine. Two can play that game. The night settles slowly around the house. I hear the old pipes groan when he goes down the hallway to brush his teeth, hear his footsteps soften like he’s trying not to disturb me even though I’m the only other human inside this grey, too-quiet house. I take my toiletries to the bathroom, partly because I want to shower and partly because I’m avoiding the moment where we both lie in that room pretending the memory of last night doesn’t hover between us like smoke. I turn the water on hot. Steam fog

The house sounds different in the afternoon.Morning noise had been sharp and intrusive, filled with boots scraping concrete, voices bouncing off unfinished walls, the clang of metal on metal. It had been impossible to forget there were people everywhere, tearing the place open, leaving it exposed.Now the sounds are muted.The workers have moved upstairs. Their presence registers only as distant thuds, the occasional vibration through the floorboards, like a pulse rather than a disruption. The walls also feel thinner without being loud about it.The house feels… aware.I carry a towel down the hallway, bare feet silent against the floor, and lock the bathroom door behind me. The click is soft but final. Habit more than necessity. I’m not sure privacy exists here in any real way anymore.The mirror catches me before I can look away.I don’t recognize myself, well not fully.My hair is flattened on one side, tangled on the other. Sleep has left shadows beneath my eyes, faint but notice

Harriet~Dinner is done, the dishes are stacked and drying, Devon and I are sitter in front of the TV with the volume turned down so low like it’s afraid to interrupt us. Devon stretches out on the armchair, his legs long with one ankle crossed over the other, he holds the remote control loosely in his hand. I curl into the corner of the couch, not far enough to be distant but not close enough to be obvious.We don’t talk about the food, actually don’t talk about anything important and I guess that’s kind of the point.He flips through a couple of channels absentmindedly, not really watching either of them. I know this version of him though, I’m extremely familiar with it.It’s the one that needs noise to keep his thoughts from getting too loud in his head.He’s always been like that. Even when we were younger, he was the one whole always stayed silent even with his questions.My feet slide out from under me, bare against the cool air. I don’t mean to stretch them toward him, but I