The Artist

Chapter Twenty One

I wake to the sound of a muffled voice. I slowly blink my eyes open to see an unfamiliar room and ceiling. When I realise where I am, my stomach drops and knots itself over and over.

I look out the floor to ceiling window to the right of his bed, it's got a view of the city... Which is still in darkness.

I pull the sheets around my half naked body and step warily towards the source of the voice.

Harry sits, talking on the phone at the table, a concentrated scowl on his face as he writes things down and replies to whoever is on the other end of the phone.

I decide to keep silent in the shadows, given he hasn't noticed me yet.

"No I can't leave." He says in a hushed yet firm tone.

I study him carefully. His forehead is wrinkled and his eyes are puffy, carrying deep bags underneath them. This has always been I trait of his, he has rather large bags under his eyes. But regardless, they're pretty enchantingly green. He taps his pencil against his lip and shakes his head.

"I told you, I can't leave now. I need to stay here with Ellen." He says and I smile a little to myself.

I decide to stop eavesdropping and make my presence known. I walk into the kitchen and pour myself a drink. I can tell his eyes are on me.

"I gotta go." He says and hangs up the phone. "Why are you awake?" He asks, half his face covered by the shadowed living room light.

"I heard you talking." I say quietly, sitting down opposite him at the table. "Who were you talking to?" I ask. My eyes are still fuzzy from waking up, I wonder what time it is?

"No one. Just business." He shrugs, tapping his pencil on his lip and staring contentedly at me.

"What time is it?" I keep the question ball rolling.

"Three thirty." He sighs and smiles "are you always this inquisitive?"

"My curiosity peaks at three thirty in the morning." I smirk and his laugh fills the air. It's a nice sound, it's something I like hearing but don't hear a lot.

"You should go back to bed." He looks me up and down without even trying to be discrete.

"You should come with me." I push myself to say what's on my mind.

I await his response eagerly, but feel my stomach drop when he frowns and shakes his head.

"No Ellen. You should sleep. Alone." I can feel the slight change in atmosphere. Actually... Maybe not so slight.

I nod my head and walk back to his room. I pull my shirt over my head and put my panties back on before fixing the sheets and climbing in.

I toss and I turn, for what could be an hour. I can't sleep. My mind is racing with a million thoughts at once, by heart is beating fast and I can't explain it. All I know is I'm exhausted and I can't seem to fall asleep.

I battle with myself for another while, mentally cursing at myself as I desperately try to drift off. I turn to face the window, forcing myself to shut my eyes.

About five minutes later I hear the door open. The sheets begin shifting beside me and I feel his arm drape over my waist. He's not under the sheets, but he's pressed against me and it comforts me somehow.

"Goodnight Ellen." he whispers. It's the last thing I hear before, finally, I fall asleep.

....

I wake up for the second time feeling remarkably well rested. But. once again I wake up alone. Shit, I have work today. I sit up too quickly, feeling a little light headed. I attempt getting up again when I spot a piece of paper sitting on the locker.