The songs for this chapter are:
Closer- Kings of Leon
Give me love- Ed Sheeran
In my veins- Andrew Belle
I can't sleep. I've tried to close my eyes and block the world out, leave the chaos and stress of the mess that is my love life, but I can't. It's impossible. It's impossible to fight the magnetic pull that draws me to Harry's room, that begs me to be near him. He's being so distant and I have to know why. I have to know if he is behaving this way because of something I did, or didn't do. I have to know that it had nothing to do with Sasha and her tiny gold dress, or Harry losing interest in me.
I have to know.
Hesitantly, I climb out of the bed and tug on the small cord to bring the lamp to life. I pull the thin band from around my wrist and gather my hair into my hands, pulling it into a ponytail. As quietly as possible, I tip toe across the hall and slowly turn the handle on guest room door. It opens with a low creak and I'm surprised to find the lamp on and the bed empty. A pile of black sheets and blankets are pushed against the edge of the bed and Harry isn't in the room.
My heart sinks at the possibility that he has left Seattle and went back home- to his home. I know things were awkward between us but we should be able to talk about whatever it happens to be that is weighing on Harry's mind. My eyes search the room and I'm relieved when I see his bag resting on the floor, the clean and folded clothes have been knocked over but managed to keep their neat form.
I've loved seeing the changes in Harry since his arrival only hours ago. He's been sweeter, calmer, and he actually apologized to me without me pulling the words from him. Regardless of the fact that he's being cold and distant right now, I can't ignore the changes that have been made this week and the positive impact that the distance between us has had on him.
I quietly pad down the hallway in search of Harry. He's here in this house.. somewhere. The house is dark, the only light is coming from small nightlights lined against the floor of the halls. The bathrooms, living room, and kitchen are empty and I don't hear a single noise coming from upstairs. He has to be upstairs though, maybe he's in the library?
I keep my fingers crossed that I do not wake anyone during my search for Harry, and just as I close the door to the dark and empty library, I see the small line of light creeping from the door at the end of the long corridor. During my short week here, I haven't made it to this wing of the house. I suspect this is where the theatre room and the gym that Christian spends hours inside of, are located.
The door is unlocked and I push it open with ease. A momentary spark of worry hits me as I entertain the idea that Christian may be the one in the room. That would be incredibly awkward and I pray that isn't the case.
All four walls of the room are mirrored from floor to ceiling and lined with large, intimidating machines, a treadmill being the only recognizable one. Weights and more weights cover the far wall, and majority of the floor is padded. My eyes move to the mirrored walls and my inside liquefy. Harry, four Harry's, are projected in the mirrors. Shirtless, and making aggressively quick movements, His hands are covered in the same black tape that Christian's were wrapped in each day this week.
Harry's back is facing toward me, the hard muscles straining under his tanned skin, as he lifts his foot to kick the large black bag hanging from the ceiling. His fist is next, it juts out in front of him, a loud thud follows his movements and he repeats with the other fist. I watch as his actions repeat, he looks so angry, and hot, and sweaty, and I can barely think straight as I watch him assault the bag.