SAVED

Chapter 8

I honestly don’t know why I keep complaining to myself about going home. It’s not like I have much of a choice. It’s not like I have anything planned to do. I’ve got a paper to write that I intend to finish as soon as possible. Maybe then my stress level will diminish a bit.

Harry’s little smirk is still plastered on his face and I can’t fathom the reason behind it. It’s making me uncomfortable. 

I ignore the heat I feel on my cheeks and glance awkwardly at the floor before peering up at him. He really is beautiful. Too bad for you. I fight back the tears unleashed by my subconscious and clear my throat. “Well...I better get going then.” 

“Would you want to hang out with me?” He questions quickly and in a more quiet tone. 

I hope he’s messing with me for both our sakes. He can’t be serious. My voice is gone and I’m left stunned. 

“Em?” He waves his hand in front of my face as I snap back into reality. 

“I don’t know...” I lie. Spending time with Harry is more like a dream or a jumbled thought to keep me up at night. Something I could spend hours thinking about, but know will never happen. Maybe if I was a different person, but no. I’m worthless, boring, awkward Emma. 

“It doesn’t have to be today. I mean we could pick a time and day or whatever works best for you.” He’s even compromising with me? I want to know what his plan is. Guys just don’t ask me to hang out. I find myself thinking of Zayn and what caused me to warm to him so quickly. He isn’t like other guys I’ve come in contact with. He’s nice and actually looks me in the eyes when I speak. He listens to what I have to say and didn’t end up trying to run off away from me. It didn’t feel awkward with Zayn. It was a new feeling that I also happen to feel with Harry, but two guys in one day?

“Or we don’t have to...” I watch him frown and a small pain forms in my chest. 

“I-I’d like to, Harry. Just not today.” My head is spinning and I can’t think straight but I give him a reassuring smile. I need time to think.

“Fair enough.” He chuckles and pulls his phone our of his back pocket. “Here, put your number in so I can text you later.”

My heart is pounding as I nod and shakily add in my contact before handing it back to him. 

“Thanks, love.” A smile forms on his lips and I can’t help giving him one in return. “I’ll catch you later.” He places his hand on my shoulder and sends a zap of electricity through my veins. What the hell was that. I notice his eyes widen also and his breath has become shaky like mine. Weird. “Have a safe trip home.”

I turn up my iPod and turn up the volume as I wait for the train. I’m not used to having this much to think about and as much as I want to drain out my thoughts in music, I know they’re inevitable.

I huff and yank my headphones from my ears as the headache from earlier slowly returns. The train arrives within the passing minutes and I make myself comfortable in a corner secluded from everyone else on the train. I’m not trying to be rude or anti-social. It just makes me feel more comfortable and less likely to be judged or stared at.

I should have known today would be weird when Anna approached me before English. I really like Anna, though. She never gave me a reason to dislike her and evidently was only being kind when she asked me out to lunch. I want to consider her a friend but I don’t know if she feels the same. Probably not. She probably has loads of friends and has parties and goes shopping or to the movies like normal 19 year olds. 

I find it odd how I managed to get a number from two guys when I don’t even have Anna’s. I’ll have to ask her for it Thursday when I see her again. Too bad you only have Zayn’s number. My subconscious reminds me. Oh...that’s right. I instantly draw back to the memory of punching my number into Harry’s phone as I desperately tried to keep my shaky hands at bay. 

It’s a little after five when I approach my house and curse under my breath as my mother pulls into the driveway. Doing what I could to avoid her, I rush to open the door when I realize it’s triple locked. A paranoid habit of my dad’s. “God dammit.” I mumble. I jump as my mother slams the car door shut and hurries up the stairs, shoving me out of the way. I’m used to her never acknowledging my presence but she didn’t need to shove me. With a heavy sigh I bite my tongue and use everything I have not to say something I regret before rushing off to my room and slamming my door, making sure to lock it. I could only get away with doing that when my mom was around. The slam was the only out-lash of anger I could express towards her. My dad would have broke everything in my room. 

After taking a quick shower I change into loose, comfortable clothing. They’re more of what my mother referred to as ‘rags’ but I don’t care what she thinks...about that anyway. I set my phone on my iHome and blare The Rolling Stones before getting to work on my paper. 

I’m already on my fourth page when there’s a loud bang on my door, breaking my concentration. I lower the music and gulp nervously. “What is it?”

I cringe at the sight of my dad with that painfully familiar look of annoyance on his face. “Turn that fucking music down. Your mother and I have been calling you. Come and eat.” His tone is low and harsh.

The last thing I want to do is sit around the table with my parents but I choose not to argue. I’m in no mood to get screamed at. I make sure to save what’s written of my paper before closing the lid of my laptop.

As usual my mother’s complaining about something with her loud mouth as I enter the kitchen. I catch her eyes on me as I fill my plate and pour myself a drink before reluctantly taking a seat at the table. 

“Stop slouching, Emma Grace.”

I refuse to look at her but could almost see the sneer on her face. She knows how much I hate it when she calls me that and did it just to annoy me, I know it. Who calls their daughter by her first and middle name? 

I eat rather quickly and stand to wash my plate when my dad slams his hand on the table. “Sit down.” He yells. My stomach forms into a knot as I do what I’m told. “Why did you give your mother an attitude when you came home?” 

Unbelievable. I want to rip the hair out of her head as I sense a small smile on her pursed lips. “I didn’t give her an attitude. She didn’t say two words to me and shoved me out of the way while trying to open the door!” I defend. 

“Look at the attitude you’re giving now! After all we do for you and you have the nerve to act ungrateful.” 

That doesn't even make any sense. My dad gives me a look of disgust that nearly brings me to tears. I should be used to this. There’s no point in arguing with them. “Sorry.” I mutter and swallow a cry before storming out of there and rushing to my room, shutting the door that I refuse to no longer slam. 

Tears of anger begin to fall from my eyes when I notice a text on my phone. It’s from Zayn.

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