Getaway Car [HS]

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Harley spent the rest of the night crying herself to sleep.

Curled up in sheets and pillows that smelled of him, she sobbed hard enough to give herself a throbbing headache that she was forced to sleep off rather than risk going out into the kitchen to take a pain reliever. She hoped that once they got in the apartment, he might be willing to talk about any of what happened tonight, but he didn't. He locked himself in his office room the second he got the door open and left her with no company but her own. She wandered around the living room and kitchen, pouring herself a glass of water and half-heartedly watching the next episode of the show they were watching, before retiring to the bedroom for the night.

She hadn't bothered to shut the blinds covering the floor-to-ceiling windows when she passed out without even washing off her smeared makeup, so the sunlight is what wakes her. The wig she ripped off of her head sits where it was thrown on the bottom of the bed, and she groans at the lingering ache felt in the front of her head from last night's hysterics as she pokes her head up to see it.

Her hand slaps over her face as she mutters, "Fuck," under her breath.

Last night.

What he said hurt her, yes, but she can't deny that she'd been quick to escalate things in the wake of what she learned about Zayn and Alanis. Not to mention, it's harder to be angry about his intentions at the beginning of their relationship after what he said at the end of their conversation.

You should know who you're dating.

Is that what he sees their relationship as? This whole time, she never thought it more than a matter of convenience on his part. It made sense to her, but, now, she can't seem to wrap her head around it. If they weren't just fuck buddies who happened to be friends, what were they? How long have they been dating? It's not as if he asked her officially or took her on any dates to imply that's what they were to each other.

She tosses the sheet off of her and sits up on the side of the bed with a heavy sigh. There's no point in drawing out the torture, is there? She should simply stroll out there and act like everything is normal, not giving him the chance to continue last night's argument or act with cruelty toward her for the sake of pushing her away again. It's her apartment now too, she shouldn't have to hide in the bedroom like a scared little kid. He doesn't scare her.

Although she hadn't washed her makeup off, she did peel off the nipple stickers and change into one of his shirts for bed, only wearing a comfortable pair of leggings underneath. As she walks out into the living room, she's thankful to at least be covered by that when seeing him again for the first time since last night.

At first, she doesn't spot him in the kitchen. Her gaze goes straight to the couch to find him where he usually lounges, either watching something in the morning or scrolling through stuff on his phone, but he isn't there. It isn't until she searches around the room a second time and turns to head into the kitchen to start making herself breakfast that she sees him.

If the sight of him alone didn't concern her, she might have fought a smile at the fact that he still made her pancakes despite the small rift put between them yesterday. But, the way he's hunched over the kitchen counter with his head hung low between his shoulders prevents her from feeling anything but worry, even after what he admitted to her last night.

"Harry?"

Her voice is timid when she asks it, approaching slowly as one would when walking up to a wounded animal.

Throughout most things, he keeps his cool. He forces himself to maintain an appearance of a calm, collected man who doesn't let anything get under his skin, but the way he looks right now...It must be something bad, so bad that he can't be bothered to care about whatever trivial relationship issues they have going on.