asset [h.s.]

eighteen // temptation

temptation (noun): the desire to do something, especially something wrong or unwise.

Alicia

We seem to fall into some kind of routine while in New York. Get up, eat breakfast, watch TV while Harry does work on his laptop, eat lunch, watch a movie while eating snacks, eat dinner, watch more TV or another movie, have another shower and then go to bed. It's boring and repetitive, but at least I'm safe. Well, that's what I tell myself, and that's what he tells me.

I've spent the past few days thinking about that picture of myself I saw in Harry's bag. It was attached to lots of other pieces of paper, which must be part of some file. If so, then Harry knows way more about me than he lets on, which is quite a scary thought. He could know everything about me meanwhile I know nothing about him. Except from his name and some obvious personality traits, of course.

Throughout the time we've been here, Harry has looked just as stressed as he always does. While working, he rubs his jaw out of frustration and yawns a lot, his frown lines often evident on his forehead. He snaps at me a lot, always telling me when I'm doing something wrong or annoying him, and when I try to defend myself and give attitude back, he gets angrier. Sometimes he disappears into the bathroom for an extra long shower or into his bedroom and just lies on the bed, staring into space. His anxious attitude radiates off him and onto me, making me feel on-edge most of the time.

But both of us are fed and well rested, even Harry allowing himself to stop working and get some sleep at night. However I've begun to notice how he takes forever to actually fall asleep, always able to hear him shifting about and changing positions throughout the night. I think he's very similar to me with the fact that both our worries seem to cloud up our minds and never give us time to breathe.

I walk out of my room as I'm thinking this, after just waking up only about 5 minutes ago. I smell Harry cooking breakfast and head over to the kitchen, grabbing a glass and filling it with water, sipping it as I watch Harry pulling a tray of sausages out from the grill.

"What's for breakfast today?" I ask him. Normally I just make myself some cereal that Harry bought, but he must be feeling generous today as it looks like he's cooking for both of us, looking incredibly hot while doing so, may I add.

I can't help but notice that he's been treating me a lot better lately, even if its just by a small amount each day, and he still shouts and gets annoyed with me sometimes. I know that I'm still a captive, even though Owen and Harry have both told me I'm not. But I'm not stupid. If I wasn't still Harry's captive, I wouldn't be here. I wouldn't have to be shipped around to a bunch of different places in different cities in order to be protected. But Harry doesn't exactly treat me like a captive anymore, which I'm extremely thankful for. He's started to treat me like an actual guest, I suppose you could say.

"A fry up." He tells me, placing the tray on top of the cooker and my mouth waters just at the sight.

I quickly hoist myself up on the kitchen island, sipping my drink as I wait for Harry to dish up the meal. He fills up both of our plates with a sausage, a fried egg, some baked beans, a few strips of bacon and a piece of toast. Once he's done, Harry turns around with one plate in his hand.

"Oh, uh, thank you." I say with a small smile, taking the plate from him as his eye catches mine

"You're welcome." He says with the tiniest hint of a smirk, before taking his own plate into the living area, leaving me with a thumping heart and a very confused mind. What was that all about?