Infatuated (hsau)

chapter 11.

"Hi Harlow, your ex was here" Harry says casually, turning back to stare at the ground in front of him.

What the fuck?

No, really, what the fuck?

Why was Owen here and why is he not here anymore?

My anxiety is currently absolutely through the roof, my heart feels like it's going to burst through my chest and I feel physically sick. This is by far one of the worst feelings in the world and all he said was that Owen was here.

"Wh...why? Where is he?" I nervously ask him, closing the door and standing in front of Harry who continues staring at the ground like there's something interesting down there.

"Oh, I didn't ask, oops." He laughs, "I just told him to fuck off and then he called you a slut so I punched him and then he went away like a pussy." As soon as he finishes his sentence he grins at me like he's proud, waiting for praise.

Oh for fucks sake.

First of all, a slut? Really? How the fuck am I a slut? I haven't slept with anyone in months, not that that would make me a slut anyway. He's one to speak, Mr 'I cheated on you because I was bored'. That sentence haunts me still so I'm absolutely fucking baffled by him saying I'm the slut.

It's been over a year, move on you fucking obsessed weirdo.

Secondly, did I not go off at Harry for fighting people at my club this morning? As in like 14 hours ago? I knew he wasn't listening to me.

Also, why does Harry of all people care about Owen calling me a slut? Him of all people.

"Harry what the fuck?" I sigh, sitting down on the curb beside him with a good metre in between us.

He's clearly wasted right now, it's not even worth me having a go at him considering his current status. I'm not even sure if I'm mad, that's the thing. I'm annoyed he's argued with someone pretty much everyday he's been here, but he was the last person I expected to be mad at someone calling me a slut, it's somewhat faith-restoring.

Never mind, Owens a Vulture now, that'll be why Harry got mad.

Oh well, it's nice to imagine that he has a conscience.

"Yeah," He says quietly before doing something that totally catches me off guard.

He leans his head against my knee and just sighs as I'm sat there looking at him like he's got 6 heads. What the hell is going on and what on Earth am I supposed to do? Why is he touching me? This better just be the drugs talking, because this is gross. His forehead is literally on my knee, what the fuck?

I'm so touch starved that this has me cringing like crazy.

"I can't see." States Harry, as if that was an answer as to why his head is on my kneecap.

"Cause your eyes are closed dickhead." I say back, causing him to giggle.

He just giggled, literally giggled. Harry 'I'm such a crazy gang leader who loves sleeping with people and being a dick' Styles, just fucking let out the most un-manly laugh ever.