The Babysitter » styles

XXXII

We spent a couple hours at the mall, and in that time, I got a lot of clothes. Harry, the gentleman he is, wanted to make sure that I had nice and comfortable clothes, and he bought anything that I showed the slightest interest in, even if I told him that I’d probably never wear it.

“Thanks for doing this,” I said as we sat in his car, heading home. “I really appreciate it.”

He waved his hand dismissively. “It’s no problem, really.” I nodded quietly, and Harry briefly glanced over at me before returning his eyes to the road. “Seriously, it’s not. I’d buy you the moon if you wanted it.”

I blushed, smiling as Harry reached over and took my hand in his.

When we got home, Harry insisted upon helping me put everything away. I accepted his offer, handing him a whole bunch of clothes hangers and telling him to get started.

Halfway through, my phone began to ring. I glanced at the caller ID, tensing when I saw who it was. Harry looked at it too, a scowl forming upon his features.

We both stared at my phone, not bothering to swipe to decline the call from my parents. Eventually, the screen went dark again, signaling that they had finally been sent to voicemail.

I stared at the phone still, and sure enough, it lit up again, like I had been expecting. Harry scowled again, putting his hands on my shoulders and turning me around.

“Come on,” he said gently. “We’ve still got a lot of clothes to put away.” When I hesitated, he held my hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Answer it, if you want. I’m not going to stop you from interacting with your parents.”

“No, no,” I said, shaking my head. “I don’t want to talk to them, not now.”

We continued to hang clothes like nothing had happened, and soon, all of my new clothes were hanging in the closet.

“I’m going to make us some celebratory food,” Harry announced, grinning. I smiled back, shoving my phone in my pocket before skipping down to the kitchen. I sat down at the table, watching as Harry opened the fridge and rummaged around. “I hope you’re up for some, like, pancakes and stuff.”

“That sounds great,” I assured him as he set a carton of eggs on the counter and grabbed the box of pancake mix. “Do you want me to help?”

“I’m good,” he assured me, nearly dropping the mixing bowl.

I smirked. “You sure?”

“Positive.”

While Harry cooked food, I gave in and checked my phone. I had three new voicemails, all from—guess who!—my parents. I pursed my lips, debating whether or not to listen to them. I glanced at Harry before putting my phone up to my ear to listen.

“Voicemail number one:
Clara! Where the hell are you? You’d better answer the phone next time we call, young lady.”

Okay, not bad.

“Voicemail number two:
You ran off with your boyfriend, didn’t you, you slut? I hope you don’t show your face back here until you are ready to apologize for what you did. That was very inappropriate to act that way towards your parents. And after everything we’ve done for you? We fed you, clothed you, gave you a roof to live under? This is how you repay us? And to think, I thought we’d have an obedient child who does what she’s told. You bitch.”

Okay, a little hurtful.

“Voicemail number three:
If you’re thinking about coming back here, think again. We’re selling all of your stuff. Not like you need it, you ungrateful shit. I hope you have fun being a homeless, teenage mom, whore.”

Okay, ouch.

I licked my lips, deleting all of the messages. I leaned against the back of the chair, glancing up at Harry. He was still cooking away, humming happily to himself. I closed my eyes for a moment, focusing on my breathing. In, and out. In, and out. They didn’t mean it. In, and out. They love you. In, and out.

I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling. Who was I kidding: of course they meant it; obviously they never loved me.

“I’m done, and—Clara?” I looked up, focusing on the green of Harry’s eyes. “What’s up?”

I shrugged, mumbling, “My parents.” Harry somehow heard what I said, striding over and sitting down on a chair next to mine.

“Look,” he said, “I don’t know whatever the hell they told you, but—”

“They’re selling my stuff.” I spoke quietly, unnervingly calmly. “They don’t want me to come back.”

“Baby—”

I surprised both of us by laughing. “Good. Good. I don’t ever want to go back to that hellhole. Why would I? Give me one good reason to want to go back there. I know they’re my parents and all, but they never gave a shit about me.”

And then I broke down, and then Harry was pulling me into his chest. I sobbed like a child, and Harry was there, rubbing my back soothingly.

We sat there that way for a while. I pulled back, wiping my eyes.

“Your parents are shitheads,” Harry said in a childish tone, and I smiled a little bit. “I know that nothing I say will automatically make you feel better, but I love you, so much that it hurts me to see you like that. I wish I could make your pain disappear, and I’d do anything to make you feel better. It’s okay to be sad, Clara; they’re your parents, even if they never quite acted like it. Now, in an attempt to distract you, how about let’s go eat the totally delicious food I cooked up and watch a movie or TV show or whatever, alright?”

We headed into the living room, snuggling up on the couch and watching some Doctor Who while eating pancakes, scrambled eggs, and sausages.

Later into the evening, when the room was dark because neither of us had wanted to get up to turn the lights on, I lifted up to look at Harry. His eyes were drooping with exhaustion, but he stayed awake with me, squeezing my hand every now and then to let me know he was still there with me.

“I love you,” I whispered, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. He smiled, kissing me back, and as we lay intertwined on the couch, I knew I had unknowingly given my heart to this boy, and I regretted nothing.

~~

I think next chapter is going to be the last but you never know bc I planned this one to be the last and then it wasn't

Sorry sorry sorry for not updating sooner

So question for people: what is/are some of your favourite TV shows? Mine are Teen Wolf, Gravity Falls, and Doctor Who

ugh I want to be an actor rn why do all my dreams seem unreachable

ilyasm xx