Good Intentions| Editing

Twenty Seven

Panic rises up in my belly. My eyes flick from Harry to my phone, to the lamp on the bedside table. This was my nightmare. I was in for it.

"Are you fucking him?" Harry asks in his eerily calm voice.

"Are you fucking him like-like some slut?" Harry repeats louder now, letting his anger slip out. He was a ticking time bomb with his rage , and he was about to go off.

Even though I knew who he was talking about, I still had to ask. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't you fucking lie to me. Answer the damn question."

My lip trembles from his questions and a tear burns its way down my cheek. My crying gave everything away. And Harry knew it. But I never cheated on him. I would have to tell him that. He'd hear me out. Right?

"No. Mr. Wells and I-" I begin and step toward Harry.

"Then why the fuck are you getting texts at midnight from him if you weren't his whore?" Harry sneers. I could see his body shake from rage or sadness. He was scaring me. His sharp words and evasiveness was something I never seen before. Never could I have thought that Harry could be so cold, so cruel. And I cried harder because of it.

"Chris Wells, wow. The one person I hate, you screw," Harry says flatly rolling his eyes that turned black.

"I swear Harry, I'm not with him. Just let me explain." I sob out. My breaths were coming in quickly, and I can feel my hands lock up into fists.

"Let you explain. Let you explain!" Harry raises his arm, and my phone comes sailing just past my head. The device hits the wall behind me and shatters, erupting a terrible sob to come out of me. "I think this booty call is good enough of an explanation!" Harry starts pacing around the bed, tangling his hands in his hair and pulling, trying to rip the curly strands out. He turns his back away from writhing body. The room was filled with the sounds of my cries, drowning out any other noise. Harry could never listen to my side if I didn't calm down, so I tried taking deep breaths. That worked for a minute.

"Harry please, please, listen to me!" I scream trying to get through to him. My body was shaking from my bawling, and I couldn't move my fingers. I couldn't breath. I start choking on my breaths, trying to get air into my lungs. But the sobs were too much. "Harry-" I manage, before falling to the floor. My throat was beginning to burn from my dry heaving, and my fingers felt like rocks.

Harry turns his head and throws an angry look my way. But when he notices me gasping for air, his face quickly dissipates into a concerned one. "Dammit Arabella." Harry leaves the room leaving me on the floor. He left me . There was no way we could work things through if he left. He left me. He left like everyone else even though he promised not to. And I sob harder because of it. My tears were running into my mouth and my nose started to run. He left me.

But through my tears, I see Harry quickly enter the room carrying a brown paper bag. He sits on the floor and ever so gently, he pulls my convulsing body into his lap. With one hand, he holds the bag up to my mouth, and with the other, he starts to unbend my locked fingers. "Shh, shh. Breath, Arabella. Just breathe."

Ten minutes later, my fingers weren't locked and I could breathe, but the tears and silent sobs still came. "Har-" I begin to say, but he interrupts me.

"Don't talk. Just calm down." Harry patting my head. I noticed his scowl had returned and that he was sitting stiffly against me now.

"I-I nev-never cheated on you," I hiccuped my way through my sentence and look up at Harry. His prominent jaw line was quivering in the shadows of the bedroom. His undereyes were wet and his pink lips pinker than before, showing me that he was crying. He wouldn't look at me, instead he looked at the bathroom door. "I wanted to publish my-my book. He help- helped me."