Chapter 2

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The sun beams into the expensive silk curtains in my room, waking me up from my first slumber here in England. Quickly I get up, put a tank top and jeans on, brush my teeth and hair and rush downstairs. I've never woken up happier, with no tears from my mother's eyes and screams of my father's voice. As I make my way down the hall, I see Harry and a smile spreads on my face, hopefully, he is in a better mood than yesterday.

"Harry," I say stopping him from going downstairs.

"What?" He asks raising one eyebrow and lowering the other.

"I've been meaning to give this to you," I say removing the cross necklace from my neck.

"What is it? And why?" He asks looking at it placed in my hand.

"My grandma told me to give this to my brother once I got one," I say with a smile which he once again doesn't return.

"Okay, and give it to your brother," he shrugs. "I'm not your brother," he adds walking pass me.

I feel hurt at Harry's words, I knew my happiness couldn't last long. Why doesn't he want to be my brother? I didn't even speak to him. I know he didn't like me when he totally ignored me the first day I came here, but I liked to think that I was maybe wrong. This is another time in my life when I get my hopes up for something that doesn't even happen.

I keep hearing his words echo in my mind, and every time they repeat America doesn't even seem so bad anymore. Well, maybe there was too much pain there, but I don't want to feel pain here too.

"Hazel how was the first night sleeping here?" Desmond asks as I walk into the kitchen.

"Great thank you so much," I smile trying to hide how hurt I was at Harry's words. I can't believe this is my new home, one where the paint on the walls isn't rusty and the sound of birds is now what I hear rather than my father screaming.

"Do you know where Harry is?" My mother asks. I just shrug as a reply I don't even want to remember him, his actions were so full of jerkiness.

"Harry!" Desmond calls out.

"What?" Harry says with a voice that makes it so obvious he didn't want to be near anyone.

My blood is already boiling at his actions when I tried to give him the necklace. I mean he could at least act like he cares, I did it every day with everyone at school, and I continue to do it everyday.

My whole life I tried to keep optimism in my blood, I really do think it has made me a stronger person but it wasn't easy to do. It surprises me to see people like Harry who don't even want to try and make things work. 

"Angie wanted to talk to you," Desmond explains to Harry.

"I don't want to speak to her," Harry spits leaving.


This is what I'm going to have to deal with from now on. Why isn't he even trying to make this work?

"I'm sorry about that he's just a bi-" Desmond says before I stop him using my hand as a signal.

"It's okay," I nod.

"It's really not," Desmond answers.

It's not, Desmond is right, but I mean I don't want to make him hate me more than he already does.

My mother seemed hurt, I know she really wanted this to work as well. I guarantee my mother could sense that I was hurt too because my hope of having a brother was gone. I mean it's only the second day, first really, maybe he'll adapt later on. I want to comfort my mother at this time, but Desmond has taken my place and is speaking to her about something that I am toning out. I pour tea from the pot and go back to my new room. Harry was still in his room, I could hear his fidgeting and music as I pressed my ear against his room door.

"Harry?" I knock.

"What?" He groans.

Of course that's the way he is going to answer. I mean honestly I'm just surprised he even talked.

"Can we talk? It'll be quick," I ask with the huge hope he'll say yes.

"You have five minutes, I'm timing them," he tells me and a smile spread on my face once he opens the door.

I take a moment to admire him and his messy room. The green in his eyes, is like no shade of jade I've ever seen before, and the ink on his body is a work of art all of which are expressing his thoughts. I can't help but notice the tattoo that says BIG on his big toe, a laugh slips from my mouth and he looks at me as if I've grown seven heads.

"Why the fuck are you laughing?" He asks with a hint of anger in his voice.

"Your tattoo," I say pointing to it, and his lips pull up into a smirk.

"I was drunk get over it," he tells me and I nod.

What kind of first impression is that? I don't care, I just want to talk to him. I still want to laugh at it, I caught on to the irony as soon as I saw the tattoo.

"Okay," I laugh lightly.

"Hurry up," he says raising his eyebrows and running his hand through his dirty brown locks of long hair.

"I um, I um," I repeat unsure of how to start.

"Great talk see you tomorrow," he says with a sarcastic smile and I can see his dimples bury into his cheek.

"Harry I don't know, you're just not acting as I thought you would," I say feeling a bit dizzy and I can't tell if it's from the strong sent of cologne or my nerves, probably both.

"What did you think I was going to act like?" He says clenching his jaw.

"Maybe a little encouraged," I shrug and say honestly.

"Well I'm not, and newsflash I'm not a good brother, son, boyfriend any of those so there is no point in me being one so please do your perfect little self a favor and go back to where you came from if you want me to be your brother," he explains paining me with every word. I cringe at the way he says "perfect little self", and I'm hurt at the way he wants me to go back to America.

At this point it's not Harry who doesn't want to talk, it's me. I just need a moment.

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