A World Alone (H.S. AU)

Chapter 8 - Might as well...

"I was going to leave it but you pushed me. We're not going to talk about it because it's done and over."

We're taken to chairs on opposite sides of the room and sat down. Diane makes small talk as she does my hair but gives up after a bit. I am not in the mood to exchange pleasantries with a woman who will probably recite the most hilarious mother-daughter conversation she heard today to all her friends. I can't believe how blown out of proportion this situation has become. The whole no boys rule, I don't give a shit but how they're treating me like a reckless teen. I'm not stupid; I know how to take care of myself.

When they're done with my hair I leave grabbing my things and go across the street for coffee and free wifi.

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"Harry, I don't think I can work like this."

"You keep me warm." He whines.

"I'm sorry but I'm pretty sure you're crushing my lungs right now." I groan.

He just lies there for a second thinking about I have no fucking idea right on top of me. It wouldn't be so bad if I weren't on my stomach and if he didn't weigh 500 pounds!

"Bloody hell, Harry!" I scream.

"Okay, okay! Sorry." he says rolling off. I roll over on my back and heave in huge gulps of air thankful for life. "You wanna go out tonight? There'll be live music." he offers looking down at me.

"The same crew as last time?"

"Yeah."

"Sure."

I roll back over and turn to my sketch of a girl sitting on a thin, naked tree branch. Harry loves to watch me draw. "It's like watching someone sleep," he said, "you're here but you're in a different world." We've been hanging out more often since my groundment is over and I have my curfew back. My parents are over the whole Park walking in on us thing but he isn't. Things aren't the same between us and I don't know why.

I finish up my piece with a dark standing storm that billows over the girl and whips up her long, curly locks.

"What do you think?" I ask Harry handing it over for him to see.

He looks at it for a minute before commenting.

"Why is the storm just sitting there like that?" he asks. "Why doesn't it rain or anything? It seems dark and vicious but nothing happens?"

"I don't know. It's just a picture; it doesn't move. Maybe it's about to rain." I shrug.

"Hm..." he hums with his eyebrows crossed deeply in thought.

I scoot closer to him and rest my head on his stomach. One of Harry's hands comes down to play with my hair but he doesn't move entrapped by the picture. A breeze washes over us and ripples our clothes revealing the tiniest bit of skin on Harry's hip. I go to touch it making him jump probably at the coolness of my hands. He doesn't stop me so I lift up his shirt some more uncovering a tattoo.

Might as well...

My finger runs over it softly over and over again. Might as well what? I always wonder what people mean by their tattoos. He also has that 17 black by his collar bone, and many more, but I have no idea what that is either. The way the ink looks a part of a person always fascinated me, nothing like the ones kids did with marker in secondary school.

"I want to see all of them." I blurt.

"Huh?"

"Your tattoos."