The Strand // h.s

eighteen

I roll my eyes when Harry turns the radio down. As we pull into our neighbourhood, he turns to look at me.

"Are you going to talk to me now?" I stare out of the window and dread the moment he stops the car, knowing he'll lock me inside. He sighs and, to my surprise, parks in front of my yard.

For the passed weeks Harry has ignored me I've wondered why he would want me to be afraid of him, it's like he never even wanted to be frie-acquaintances, or anything, in the first place.

'I'm supposed to be a fücking sex offender to you, Elliana.'

Why would he want me to see him as a sex offender? Maybe because he is one, Elliana.

But I don't believe that do I? No. But why shouldn't I believe it? For Pete's sake he lives in a neighbourhood just for people who have molested girls. That thought makes my heart race and I turn to Harry with wide eyes. He's already looking at me when I turn towards him, and when he sees my face his eyebrows furrow.

"Elliana?"

He hasn't molested anyone, has he? He does live here, and there has to be a reason. Then again my family and I live here, and it's for dad's work. I sigh and close my eyes, my thoughts causing a head ache.

I look at the door handle in longing, deciding to chance it and pull it, pushing at the door. I stare at the door in awe when it opens, and don't take a second glance at Harry before I hop out and onto the street. I walk around the back of the Rover and onto the grass to get to the driveway but Harry's voice stops me.

"Why the hell aren't you talking to me?" I stop in my place on the grass and turn to him slowly. A scoff leaves my lips when I see his mad expression.

"And why do you have such an attitude?" His eyes scan my face with furrowed brows, hands in fists.

"My attitude is based on how people treat me." I hiss and turn back around.

"I'm sorry your friends are pissing you off but-"

"My friends?" I raise my voice, turning to him again, this time walking towards him. He stares at me with confused eyes as I look at him in disbelief.

He sighs and looks at the ground, "Okay. Maybe it was me,"

"It's all you!" I cut him off again and he closes his eyes, sticking his hands in his pockets.

"I know." I watch as he brings one of his hands up to his jaw and rubs. My eyes scan the stumble lined there, not noticing until now. But it just made me angrier.

"And you have the right to ask me why I'm not talking to you?" He looks up and away from me, not looking at my face. I step forward again and he looks back at me.

"Telling a guy to spill scorching hot coffee on me-"

"It wasn't supposed to be hot, I told him to order it with ice so it wouldn't burn-"

"It was smouldering!" I yell, narrowing my eyes at him. He looks extremely guilty now, and I start feeling bad.

"My dad has been questioning me about why I've rode home with him and not been picked up by you. What is up with that, Harry?"

He opens his mouth but I know he's not gonna tell me the truth. So I keep going. "Almost three weeks of you ignoring me, but watching me. But you're asking me why I'm not talking to you?"

I walk closer to him, his shocked expression causing me to feel pride in myself, but feel bad for yelling at him. He looks guilty, sad.

"Because two weeks ago, you practically told me to be afraid of you. Why do you want me to be afraid of you?" I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion and crane my neck to look up at him.