Chapter Twelve.

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Author's Note:

Hey!

We made the playlist for this chapter on YouTube. Our channel is 'Squintly' if you want to go check it out. The trailer for this story is also there!

You guys are all wonderful and we love you.

WE STILL CAN'T BELIEVE IT HIT 1K READS!!

I don't wear the dress that Harry suggested, instead deciding on another black dress. It's made out of a cotton material that ends loosely at my upper thigh and then tightens around my torso until it reaches a deep V neckline. It's almost six o'clock by the time I have my hair curled and teased, and my makeup finished, so I put on my leather jacket - an action that never fails to earn me a glare from my mother - and then spray myself with a puff of playboy perfume.

With five minutes to spare, I lie backwards on my bed, plug my headphones in to my ears, and listen to music while I wait for Harry to come pick me up.

I'm about half way through my playlist when my mother interrupts me by shaking my shoulder. Slightly startled, I open my eyes to see her brown irises staring back at me. Her hair is left natural, reaching down to her hipbones, and she's got on some organic-and-probably-clay-based-or-something mascara.

"I'm going out for the night, Butterfly. What time is Harry coming to pick you up?"

I check the time on my phone: 6:42.

"He was supposed to be here at six, but I guess he's late?"

My mother's eyebrows scrunch together, her mouth opens to say something, but I stop her.

"It's fine. He'll be here soon. Have fun tonight, Ladybug." I send an encouraging smile in her direction.

She nods and then kisses my forehead. "I'll be back tomorrow morning. I love you." She waves at me and straightens the jewelry box on my dresser before leaving my room.

"Love you." I call after her as I check the time once more. Harry really is late. I would be lying if I said I was surprised. I almost expected him to be late, but I'm still slightly disappointed.

I then check my messages. He hasn't texted me with an explanation, either. As I comb my fingers through the ends of my hair, I begin to regret even thinking that dinner with Harry would be a good idea. I briefly consider changing back into sweatpants and a t-shirt but decide against it. I put this much effort into my appearance; I might as well make a night of it.

I pull myself off of my bed and grab my purse, unplugging my headphones and tossing them into the side pocket before moving to the kitchen. From the counter, I stuff the main pocket with my keys, a tin of mints, and some chap stick before sitting on the couch by the door.

After five minutes, I'm discouraged.

After ten minutes, I'm frustrated.

After fifteen minutes, I'm fuming.

Cory's going to be here soon, and I'm definitely not going to be sitting on this couch when he is. I give up on Harry and decide just to go for a drive alone. I slip on my boots and just as I'm about to grab the lock to unlock the door, a knock sounds from the other side.

I drop my hand and turn away from the door, contemplating my probability of success if I escaped through the family room window. I figure that with being this many floors up, I'd prefer to confront Cory face-to-face, rather than the sidewalk.

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