Fratboy Harry and Other Stories

Fratboy Harry - Part 6

"Hey," Harry breathed, his chest falling.

You sucked in your lips, unable to utter a word.

"Did you just get here?" he asked. "I didn't hear you knock."

You swallowed and nodded. "Yeah, just got here."

Your voice was a bit shaky, but you prayed he didn't pick up on it. A smile slowly spread across his face, instantly melting away some of your fear.

"Come in," he said, stepping back to allow you space to enter.

Once inside, he shut the door behind you and offered you a beverage. This time you took him up on his beer offer, hoping it might help take the edge off. You knew it was none of your business, but whomever he'd been talking to on the phone had really set him off and it unnerved you.

You sat on the edge of Harry's sofa while you waited for him to return from the small kitchen. You spotted his phone on the coffee table, face up. You secretly wondered who the person was he'd spoken so harshly to, if it was male or female, and if they were a saved contact in his phone. You shook your head, cursing yourself for even caring. It didn't concern you.

Just as Harry rounded the counter of the kitchen, you heard a sound and saw his phone light up with a text in the corner of your eye. You didn't have time to read the name entirely before he handed you a beer, but you could have sworn it started with a J and ended in an ie. Jamie? Julie? Jennie?

"Oh, thanks," you muttered, accepting the bottle.

Harry walked around the coffee table and sat beside you, grabbing his phone.

"Shit," he commented under his breath, apparently perturbed about the text.

He shoved his phone in his pocket, his brows furrowed. Sipping on your beer, you decided to finally say something.

"You're angry," you said softly.

Harry rested his forearms on his knees and dropped his head with a sigh.

"Yeah," he admitted. Then he lifted his gaze. "You heard me."

You bit your bottom lip and nodded.

"Yeah...sorry."

Harry shook his head. "Don't be. I'm the one who should be sorry. I didn't mean for you to hear that."

"Someone's harassing you?" you inquired.

Harry sighed again, loudly, as he ran a hand through his hair. "You could say that."

Just then you heard the text alert again and Harry pulled his phone from his pocket.

"Fuck!" he exclaimed through gritted teeth.

"Why don't you just block their number?" you asked before thinking. Realizing you'd let the words slip, you quickly apologized. "Sorry. It's none of my business."

"It's okay," he said, though he offered no further explanation. You decided then to drop it.

You sat back on the sofa, gazing around the room. It looked a bit different in the daylight than it had at 3AM, though to be honest you hadn't spent much time in the living room. There wasn't much to it. It was a tiny room, only slightly bigger than his bedroom, and the only items it housed other than the sofa and coffee table were the television and an old recliner that looked like it had seen better days. On the far end of the room next to the kitchen area was a circular table and two chairs. The only things that adorned the walls were a framed concert poster of The Who and a poster print of Edvard Munch's The Scream. Overall it was a pretty ordinary room, typical of a university student or single guy.