Chapter 8.

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"I bet you know just what you're doing
You're not the type that's used to losing
First, you build me up, then with just a touch
Leave me here in ruins
Something 'bout your eyes
I can't even walk in a straight line"

**

Most of the car ride with Harry has been silent verbally, the sound of music filling the space our voices are leaving empty.

The few words Harry has spoken have been directions to where ever he's taking me, at this point I wouldn't be surprised if it's an abandoned field where I end up buried and missing a kidney.

He demanded I stop at my apartment on the way and pick up my camera, when I asked why I was only met with the same dismissive answer of "it's a surprise".

I reach for my stereo, changing the song and I can feel Harrys eyes on me. The hairs on my body have stood on end most of the time I've been in the car with him, either from being trapped in such an enclosed space with the man that has his entire entity wrapped into my sense of reality, or the fact he won't stop staring at me.

Most people wouldn't make staring at someone obvious, they might even feel embarrassed about being caught doing so, but not Harry, he has no shame what so ever.

"You do that a lot" he says, and I glance at him briefly before focusing my eyes back on the road.

"Do what?"

"You can't listen to a song the whole way through, you always skip it" he states, not sounding bothered about it but more so making an observation.

"It's a habit I guess" I say, not sure where he's going with this.

"What other habits do you have?" he prods, leaning across to rest his arm on the console.

"Why do you care?" I ask, still frustrated that I'm even in this situation.

I still can't figure out what Harry is even doing here, or why he's so persistent about ramming his way into my life. I don't know what he wants from me, aside from the one thing he's made very obvious.

But he can get that where ever and whenever he pleases from whoever he likes, that I'm sure of, so why is he so interested in me?

"I don't" he replies bluntly, and I scrunch my face in confusion.

"Why ask then?"

"Why not?"

I groan, tightening my grip on the steering wheel. I'm stuck in a car with a fucking enigmatic five year old.

"Do you ever give a straight answer?" I wonder aloud, not knowing if I can withstand another cryptic or avoiding answer from him without slamming the breaks on and throwing myself out of the car.

"When it's necessary"

"Which is apparently never when it comes to you" I mutter, glancing at him again as we come to stop at a red light.

"Very observant of you" he smirks "So tell me, did you think about me these last three years?"

I'm caught off guard by his question, and my heart accelerates as I think about whether to answer honestly or not.

Why would he ask me something like that? For someone that doesn't care, he sure asks some contradicting damn questions.

"Sometimes" I answer as vague as possible, in no way planning to let him know he's always been in the back of my mind since the last time I saw him.

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