The pesky sound of the high pitched alarm clock screeched throughout the darkness. A low grumble of a groan escaped the mountain of sheets and pillows that were toppled over the king sized bed. A lanky arm reached out from under the rubble and searched blindly for the maker of the high pitched beeps. Not once did Harry look out from under the pillows and blankets, but was still able to turn off the alarm clock. 

It was the second day in May, and it was the day that Harry was dreading. He knew that the time that he would be moving to Los Angeles for the summer had finally hit. He climbed out of his bed and shuffled his feet towards the kitchen. He pulled out a mug from the highest cabinet and poured some water into the kettle. A few minutes later, a mug of steaming tea and a bowl of cereal were sitting in front of him. He stared into space - something he had quickly grown accustomed to doing. It wasn't like he was thinking about anything, or that his thoughts were going a mile a minute. In reality, his mind was blank. In fact, his whole body was blank and numb. He had been like that for the span of April. He had found himself in a funk and quickly grew into a routine. 

Every  morning he rolled out of bed at ten past nine, put the kettle on, poured himself a bowl of corn flakes, and stared out into a blank abyss. Each morning he did that. It was a routine that he had grown to know too well. His ever y day life was the same. It had been since the break up. He had gone through all the stages of grieving the breakup.

First he was in denial. He couldn't admit to himself that she broke up with him. He didn't want to admit that she ended things. He was in way too deep. Women would throw themselves at him at bars, but instead of going back to their place to do whatever they wanted with him, he told them he was in a relationship. He knew that he wasn't. She made that clear to him when she told him to leave that day, but he would deny it. He didn't want to let her go. But at the end of it all, he knew he lost her.

The next stage was anger. That was a stage he had grown to know too well. Throughout the week that he endured this stage of grief, he drank too much alcohol and smoked way too many cigarettes. He broke too many glasses, and punched too many holes into his wall. He was angry that she would dump him like that, over something that he did for her. He couldn't wrap his mind around it. He couldn't comprehend why she would leave him over something that he did for her; that he did for them. He kept questioning her love for him. If you truly, fervently, unconditionally love somebody, you don't let them go so easily. You don't drop them at the smallest lie or conflict. You fight for them. But she didn't. She let him walk away and never once called him back. He hated her for that. It drove him mad to know that he was nothing to her. It drove him to the point of anger. 

The next stage, and the stage that Harry was currently stuck on (and couldn't seem to break from) was depression. Once the denial left and the anger subsided, he felt his body morph into a state of numbness. Everything became one big routine. He got up, ate, went out to see Rose, went back home, wrote, went to bed, and repeated it the next day. Sleep in itself was a struggle. Whenever he would close his eyes, her face would appear. The way she would smile at his corny jokes or crude innuendos, or the way her nose would crinkle when she laughed too hard, or the way she fit perfectly in his arms as they would sleep the night away- all of these things that he loved so much about her, would play whenever he tried to sleep. She had consumed all of him. She was in his dreams, in his nightmares, and in his daydreams. He couldn't shake her away. It came to the point that he would close his eyes and not even bother fighting it any more. It hurt too much to even try. 

He loved her. Hell, he was still in love with her. She was his- no matter what she would say. 

As angry as he would try to stay at Ava, the anger would never last. He knew that he was in too deep. But the more that he thought about going back to her would cause a vile taste to creep up his throat. 

Harry knew that he would always be in love with Ava. But he knew that she would never truly love him back. She showed him that when she took the first true conflict in their relationship and left him in her dust. He didn't hate her any more, but he couldn't forgive her.

This had been the first time that he had truly let his heart go on the line, but it was left to be knocked over by the heavy winter wind. It was now scattered throughout the city in a fucked up mess in which it could never, ever be put together again. As much as he wanted her, needed her, he wouldn't go back to her. There was a reason why he promised himself he would never love again. Love only brought pain. Harry saw that once with Delaine, and was reminded of it again with Ava. Maybe he was stubborn, or maybe his pride was too big, but he could never put himself back into that situation again. He could never love again. This time he was keeping that promise to himself. 

- 

The bus was croweded. A heavy aroma of sweat and fast food drifted to the back of the bus where Harry layed across his seat. A loud cry could be heard from the front where a mother tried to bring her baby to sleep. Two seats ahead sat a pretty red head who's eyes kept shifting back to where Harry sat. He ignored her constant stares and focused on the book in his hands. He continued to read The Bell Jar as the Greyhound finally passed through Washington and into Oregon. The ride from Vancouver to Los Angeles would be twenty-one hours. He was already six hours in and was ready to gouge his eyes out. The constant cries of the newborn child mixed with the ungodly stench of McDonalds and body odor made Harry ready to jump out of the moving bus any second. But it was the cheapest way for him to get to California- and that was what he kept reminding himself. 

Fifteen hours. It had been a long fifteen hours when they made it to Napa, California. The bus pulled over to a nearby gas station. "Alright ladies and gentlemen," the bus driver's booming voice spoke, "We will be stoping here for twenty minutes. This is the time for you to stretch your legs, use the bathroom, and grab some snacks. We will not be stopping anymore until we reach Los Angeles." One by one, people began to unload themselves from the bus. 

Harry stood up from his seat and stretched his body out. His eyes shut as he reached his arms above his head and a small groan escaped his lips. He opened his eyes and noticed that he was the only one left on the bus. Making sure his wallet was in his back pocket, he stepped off the bus and made his way over to the gas station. Crowds of travellers were scattered throughout the small area, some eating different kinds of snacks, while others made small talk at a nearby bench. He walked over to one of the fridges and pulled out a water bottle. The line at the cash register was short. Harry grabbed a bag of chips and an apple and placed all of his things in front of the cash register. 

After paying for his items he turned around and was faced with two piercing blue eyes. It was the red head from the bus. 

"Hello," Her voice was silky, but was nothing compared to Ava's. Stop thinking about her, Harry scolded to himself. 

"Hey." His voice was low and his response kept short. He turned away and walked out the door. He could hear footsteps close behind him as he walked into the bus. Nobody was inside leaving Harry alone with the mysterious red headed girl. 

"What's your name?" She asked him as she followed him towards the back of the bus. Harry sat down at his seat whereas the unknown woman sat in the seat in front. 

"Harry," He answered. 

"Nice to meet you, Harry." 

"Yup." 

Harry didn't mean to be rude, but he had no interest in speaking to any other woman. He had been down that road before, trying to rebound his broken heart away, but this time around he didn't feel the urge to do so; Ava's face always popped up whenever he remotely tried. 

"Are you not going to ask me what my name is?" She flirted, clearly not taking a hint. 

"Sure." Harry looked up at her and noticed how bright her eyes were. As much as he hated to admit it, they were rather mesmerizing. 

"Libby." She smiled, "My name is Libby." 

Harry returned the smile and took a sip from his water bottle. "It's nice to meet you, Libby."

"You too." Her smile grew wider. "What brings you to California?" 

"Business."

"Intriguing." She cooed. "A sexy, British business man?" 

"You could say that." Harry smirked, "Yourself?"

"Visiting home. I'm a California girl." She winked back. 

"Ah," He smiled at her and took another sip from his water bottle. 

"No girlfriend?" 

Harry looked up at her, his eyes narrowing a bit. "No girlfriend." 

"Hmm. I see." Libby got up from her seat and walked back to the front of the bus. "If you get lonely over there," She stopped to look over at him, her voice smooth as silk, "Feel free to come and visit." She winked at him as she walked off the bus not looking back at a bewildered Harry. 

There was something different about Libby. He couldn't help but feel a slight attraction to her. He could blame it on his broken heart or his own personal needs but perhaps a little rebound wouldn't be too bad after all. 

- 

The remaining hours on the bus flew by. The bright sun had quickly faded away and was replaced with a clear night sky. Everywhere you turned, a palm tree stood. The roads were full of the hustle and bustle of people. Even at ten at night, the streets were full of energy. It was a laid back feeling but still full of an indescribable energy that made Harry overflow with an eerie sense of excitement. It was as if this city had taken a hold of the numbness that occupied his body, and replaced it with a tiny bit of feeling. As he stepped out of the bus, his duffle back in hand, he was hit with a warm breeze. He breathed in the fresh scent of the springtime air and was overwhelmed with the realization that he was no longer in Vancouver. He was in California- his new home for the summer. This was where he would be traveling and spreading the word on his book. As much as he had originally been looking forward to going to New York, he couldn't help but be thankful that he had made the decision to switch over to the west coast. There was something about the sunshine and laid back aroma of the West Coast that brought a sense of peace to his troubled soul. 

As he was about to call a taxi, a small hand reached out and grabbed his arm. Harry quickly turned around and was faced to face with the familiar pair of blue eyes that kept staring at him. Libby. "Hey stranger," she purred. "Do you have a ride to wherever you're going?"

"I was about to call a cab." 

"I can drive you. My car is just over in that parking lot. Save some money." 

The offer was tempting (but so was she). Without giving it another thought Harry answered with a "Why not" and followed Libby to her shiny BMW. "Are you staying at a hotel?"

"No, an apartment."

"What kind of business are you doing?" 

"I'm living here for four months, doing some book publishing stuff." He answered her without giving too much information. She was already going to know where he lived. He didn't want her to know too much more about him. 

"Intriguing." She smirked and lightly brushed his thigh with her fingers. He looked up at her and she winked in response.

Harry gave her the address and they drove in silence. She would "acidentally" brush his thigh every time she would change gears. He ignored the passes that she was clearly leaving on him. It was obvious that she was searching to spend the night with him.

The apartment was quaint. East Side had helped him out in finding a place within his and their budget. It wasn't too fancy but it would do. Besides, he knew that he would be traveling for many of the days. He didn't want to be forking up money for an expensive rent if he wasn't going to be there fifty percent of the time. 

Libby pulled up to the curb and turned the car off. Harry's hand hovered over the door handle while an internal battle occurred in his head. As much as he didn't want to invite her in, he couldn't help but feel a pull towards her. "Would you like to come up? I haven't actually seen it yet but if you want to-" 

"I'd love to." She smiled at him and began to open the car door. Harry followed suit as they walked inside the building. An older woman sat at the desk in the apartment lobby. After exchanging information and signing the necessary documents, Harry and Libby made their way up to his new summer apartment. 

The apartment was small but spacious. It had already been furnished which had been one less thing Harry had to worry about. "Cute place." Libby walked over to the couch and sat down. Harry threw his duffle bag inside the first room that he saw. He walked over to the kitchen and studied the white painted cabinets.

"Yup." Was all he said in return. He walked over to the fridge and internally thanked his boss for telling the guys at the Publishing office to stock his fridge with some groceries, but most importantly, beer. He grabbed two - one for him and one for Libby. 

They sat their in silence, side beside, neither one speaking a word. Harry chugged down the beer while Libby took dainty sips out of her own. She slowly turned her body over and brought her knees to her chest. She laid her head against the back of the couch and watched Harry. He had his right hand  tight around the bottle and his left hand draped over the couch. "You don't talk much, do you." 

Harry snapped out of his trance and looked over at Libby. She had a small smile playing at her lips while taking a long sip from the bottle. He shook his head whilst letting out a small chuckle. "Not really."

She chuckled back and stretched her legs out. "I'm glad I met you, Harry. Even if you don't talk much." She winked up at him flirtatiously and nudged his long leg with her foot.

He looked over and smirked, "Yeah." He smiled at her and nudged her foot back with his leg. He didn't know why he was going doing this. He knew in his heart that he couldn't fall for her or give her whatever it was that she was searching for. Ava was still in his heart and occupied his senses, his soul, and mind. But regardless of how he truly felt, he knew that she was gone and out of his life. He promised himself that he would let her go. 

Maybe, just maybe, Libby was what he needed to truly move on be free from the constant turmoil that wreaked havoc inside his mind, body and soul. 

Harry slowly moved closer towards Libby and brought her feet to his lap. He finished up his beer and sat it on the nearby coffee table. He slowly took her flats off and began to rub her feet. She let out a soft moan as he worked the tension out of it. The sounds that left her lips did not bring the same butterflies and goosebumps that Ava's did. He kept massaging her feet and slowly pulled her legs closer so that her body was now leaning against his. His fingers crept up her legs and pulled her so that she was now straddling his lap. She finished her bottle and threw it on the table.

Libby opened her eyes, her breath becoming shallow, and looked at him. "I've been hoping you'd do this since the first moment first I saw you on the bus." She whispered. "You are so damn sexy," She spoke as she leaned closer to him. 

Everything was telling Harry to stop. He knew that this was wrong that she was wrong. But he yelled at his subconscious and leaned in. There was nothing wrong with a one night stand. He had needs that hadn't been met in a month. Maybe she was what he needed physically. He was a man after all. 

Harry leaned in closer as the distance between their lips decreased. Before he knew it, her pink stained lips met his own. The kiss was soft but soon became harder. 

She wrapped her arms around his neck. "It's not like Ava's" his subconscious reminded him, "Stop kissing her you idiot!" Harry ignored his subconscious as he brought her body closer to his. As nice as her body was, it didn't compare to hers. Stop comparing her, he told himself. "Stop fucking kissing her", his subconscious spat back. Pushing all of his thoughts away he laid her on the couch while deepening the kiss. His hands travelled under her shirt and began to feel every crevice of her body. It didn't feel the same, but he reminded himself that it didn't matter. That was the past. This was now; Libby was now. 

She let out a loud moan as he slipped his fingers into the waistband of her jeans. He unbuckled them and began to pull them down slowly.

Harry knew that this was it- he was moving on. 

---

A/N: PLEASE don't kill me. This is necessary for the story, trust me. Vote + Comment! Also- Winter Air is currently ranked #223 in fanfiction. What the heck!! Thank you!!!