invasato [h.s]

17

"Tell me, Picasso, what exactly do you think it is that I do?"

All I know is that I saw him and the guys and Angela at the art gallery. I can't just make an assumption because I didn't necessarily see them do anything, however I know it's something I'm not supposed to know about.

Timidly, I look straight ahead at him, hands cuffed behind my back as he had all the power right now.

"I don't...I don't know..."

Still leant in his chair, he just pulls a satisfied smirk. "Good." he nods. "And it'll stay that way."

I shake my head slightly, "Why is Zayn out of the hospital?"

"He got out early this morning and stayed with Niall." he answers. "And you're right, Picasso, there was no motorcycle accident." he tells me this in an almost mocking tone, like he was amused over the fact that I didn't know what was really going on.

"S-so what happened to him?"

He inhales through his nose, shrugging. "Remember how I told you I got into a fight because I pissed off some guys?" he asks.

I nod slowly.

"Same thing happened to him, except he pissed 'em off just a litttleee bit more."

I furrow my brows, trying to make some sense of this but ultimately being unable to. Who did he piss off so badly? What did he do?

I search my mind for things I could ask that he might answer. I have so many questions but can't seem to form a single one.

"Are you aware, as Zayn's roommate, how he makes his income? Well, a good bit of it anyway?" Harry asks me, tilting his head and smirking still because he knew I had no idea.

I shake my head with slight embarrassment.

I live with Zayn and I have for three months. He leaves sometimes to go to work but I really have never questioned what he does—I know that he has a lot of money, though.

He laughs under his breath. "I'll let him explain that one to you, then."

"Angela." I say, thinking of how I saw my best friend with them. "Why is she here? How does she know you?"

Harry looks at me for a moment before chuckling. "She's your best friend, yeah?"

"Yes. From Denver. What is she doing here with you?"

"She works with us." he states, instantly making my head tilt. This made no sense.

"What?" I shake my head, "That...that doesn't add up—"

"It does, you just don't know anything."

This was my best friend that we were talking about. The person I could confide in about anything. She knew every detail about me.

So, does that mean Harry knows every detail?

"How is she affiliated with you? I don't understand."

"I've known Angela much longer than you have, and I can guarantee you that." he tells me.

"How can you possibly guarantee me that? Please, tell me." I remark, just not seeing how all of this was possible.

He smirks, crossing his arms still, then looks over his shoulder and calls out down the hall.

"Ang, come here." he calls out, and before I knew it, Angela emerged into the kitchen from the hallway.

She approaches us with an unsure and guilty look on her face. She hesitates as she looks at me, biting the inside of her cheek.

"What is going on?" my voice drops to a whisper when I see her. She always brought me a sense of comfort, but now all I can feel is coldness. I don't know her anymore.