I've heard much worse in my experience of running this phone sex line. I needed as much money as possible. I was twenty years old, I had to make a living.
I didn't even hesitate to start this. "Carly, baby. I heard you haven't been working hard, lately. You know how frustrated that gets me." I spoke seductively with a scowl, the pain never ending.
"Oh, sorry Mr Johnson-"
I blanked out for the rest of that phonecall, participating as much as possible so she wouldn't complain about my lack of interest. Out of the three phones I had: one for personal matters, another for scheduling appointments. The one I always dreaded was the phone sex line.
I was happy to end the call about ten minutes later, getting a good fifteen pounds sent straight to my account. It was easy money.
I really hoped Harry was getting the help he needed in English. Miss Valentine was kind enough to stay behind after school just to make sure he catches up. No other teacher would do that.
After laying down on my bed for an hour I had a long think about these new adjustments. That phone call I overheard Harry having had to be forgotten. It was his business and he seemed smart enough to take care of it.
I changed into a pair of jeggings and woollen jumper before coming downstairs to watch tv on the sofa. I exhaled, relaxing myself as I put my feet up on the coffee table. Seconds later my mother gave me a light smack as she told me to put them back down.
The front door was heard as it hit against the wall, making me jump a little as I sat up straight. Harry entered quietly, his breathing heavy as his chest rose with every inhale. His eyes found mine as I stared at him obscurely, and he was quick to look away as he went straight to the stairs.
"He's not a very sociable boy." Mam whispered softly as she sat beside me. I merely shrugged, not finding the right words to say.
"Maybe he just doesn't like talking to us."
"I wouldn't be surprised, after everything's he's been through the past couple of months. Imagine having your father just die right in front of you? I would be traumatised." She whispered as he was only upstairs, most probably changing.
I empathised with him briefly, acknowledging his loss in such a morose way. He must have felt great pain from that event, yet he looked and acted so cold. I acted natural as I heard him come back downstairs again not a minute later, this time he was dressed in skinny jeans and a black shirt. He hesitantly walked into our living room with a stern stare, gaping around as he took a seat opposite us. He sat up, his back arched over as he rested his elbows on his legs.
"Where's... uh, what's his name?" Harry asked in a puzzled expression.
Mam was first to answer. "Matthew's making dinner in the kitchen, darling."
He didn't answer, he just looked to the floor in boredom. He rolled his eyes as he let out a deep sigh and lay back into his chair. "What are we having?"
"Tagliatelle Carbonara." She answered as I was silent.
Harry's eyebrows furrowed as he frowned. "I hate tagliatelle."
"How could you hate a form of pasta?" I asked in confusion as I stared at him with a little scowl.
He didn't answer as he shrugged his shoulders, breathing softly. It embarrassed me when he wouldn't answer my questions, it made me feel dumb.
"Well, we can cook some penne or spaghetti-"
"I'll eat it. It's fine. Sorry for being a bit rude about it." He forced himself to say, but I knew he didn't mean it. The way he crossed his arms and scowled as he looked to the side, it was the typical 'I do whatever I want' pose. I knew that from the bullies in school.
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Call Boy. (Harry Styles Fan Fiction) on holdFanfiction
Harley Thomas; an anxiously wrecked Christian who thrives on judging those who sin. Harry Styles; an emotionally wrecked Atheist who thrives on sinning.