Chapter 9: Harry

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We sit at the table in silence, our food arrives, we speak only to thank the waitress, then we proceed to eat in silence. She doesn't look over at me which is perfectly fine as far as I'm concerned. She keeps doing all she can to run me off and I have absolutely no idea why I don't just forget it and find a normal girl to date. Someone who could actually date me.

Someone easy.

Someone simple.

Cilly is easily the most complex person I've ever known; smart, funny, sweet, innocent, and yet burdened with guilt and pain and terrified of lots of things especially herself. She's insane. I could strangle her for putting the thoughts she put in my head with those lies she spat at me on the street. It doesn't matter that I know they aren't true, the idea of my Cilly being touched by someone else, ever for any reason, is unbearable.

But it doesnt matter because I meant it when I said fuck it. I'm done with her.

It goes without saying that she's beautiful, and she haunted me with her perfection for the entire time we were apart. Even with one hand in a sling she uses her chopsticks like an old pro, perfectly holding them in her delicate little fingers, perfectly lifting the food on her plate to her perfectly full lips, rosy and kissable, and pierced now, which is driving me crazy.

My princess had been so proper and preppy when I left, now she looks like a little punk. Piercings are damn near the sexiest thing I could ever imagine on her, though I never would have imagined that my Cilly would go for that in a million years. The only thing better would be tattoos, but she still won't go for those.

And it doesn't matter anyway because I said fuck it and I'm done with her.

I stab at my food repeatedly with the sticks but my fingers can't get the hang of them and never could. I wonder how rude it would be to ask for a fork as I continue to stare at Cilly, who suddenly looks up at me. She looks confused for a moment as to why I'm staring at her, then her face softens. She comes around the table to my side and takes my hand, positioning my fingers and the sticks the way they should be. Her olive skin against my hand, which is much paler than hers and soon to be covered in a tattoo, is beautiful to me. It's just another way she's different from most girls I know, she's exotic and unique looking; she sticks out like a sore thumb next to her blonde, fair skinned mother and sister. But she's always been excruciatingly beautiful and undoubtedly unique; I've never seen another girl like her.

She's everything to me, I love everything about her, but I'm done with her.

I think.

"Like this." She instructs me before letting go and going back to her seat. As she sits down I pick up some rice and carefully bring it up to my mouth, only to have it all fall off as soon as I get it there. I suck my teeth and snap the sticks in half before throwing them down on the table. She laughs at me as I pout. I look off to the side in frustration, I might have been amused if I wasn't so bloody hungry. I watch as she stands and pulls her chair next to mine. She takes a bite of food off of my plate with ease and I open my mouth, too busy concentrating on trying not to get a boner to say anything. "Better?"

I nod my head and squirm in my seat. My efforts to try not to be aroused are failing miserably. She gives me a slightly quizzical expression, then blushes and shrugs her shoulders a bit. She knows all too well what she's doing to me, and the worst part is she doesn't understand why or how she does it. She isn't even trying to.

Well I guess that's not the worst part - the absolute worst part is I can't do it to her and I can't make her body feel all the things it deserves to feel.

It doesn't matter who I've had, she's the only woman I want and just about the only one I can't have.

But I don't want her because I'm done with her, and that's it. She can't keep confusing me and pushing me away, and making me crazy about her crazy ass. I'm done with her. I am completely fucking done with her crazy ass.

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