Stall 2

Chapter 20.

"You're too mean, I don't like you
Fuck you, anyway.
You make me wanna scream at the top of my lungs.

When I wake up I'm afraid, somebody else is gonna take my place."

***

I've never been so apprehensive to open my front door.

I made Jimmy drop me off a few houses down, simply because I was concerned maybe Harry would actually shoot him in the leg or something this time around.

It sook some coercing on my behalf because Jimmy was determined to come inside, because he said he wasn't going to let Harry act like a prick towards me when it was his fault for teasing him.

I told him I'm more than capable of handling it, but I still had that anxious pit in my stomach over how furious he sounded.

Harry still isn't great at regulating his emotions, his temper being the main one. He has all these new emotions he's dealing with, and I know they get confusing  but there's also a point where that can't always be the excuse.

I really didn't like how he spoke to me, it wasn't like other times; Harry has always been authoritative and bossy, but there's never been genuine anger behind it towards me. There's always been this unspoken respect and affection there with him, even when he's in a bad mood but there wasn't this time.

I understand if he's upset, he's allowed to be; and if I've hurt his feelings I'll apologise and do whatever I can to make up for it, but I won't be spoken to like shit.

I finally get the ovaries to grasp the door handle after a small internal pep talk, and push the front door open; stepping inside and closing the door behind me to a house that's far too quiet.

I make my way up the hallway towards the living room, grasping the bag in my hand from the lingerie store. I was considering leaving it in Jimmy's car so it could still be a surprise, but I know Harry is smart and he's put two and two together when I didn't come home with dresses; I know it's only going to piss him off more but it's better to just be honest and deal with it.

I'm already being eaten alive with guilt over these damn dreams, I don't want to be dishonest about anything else.

My stomach is in knots by the time I reach the living room, and I stop after a few steps when I spot Harry sitting on the couch; his elbows on his knees with a glass of whiskey clasped in his hands with Ludo asleep on the floor next to the coffee table.

His jaw is clenching and ticking as he grinds his teeth and glares at his hands; and I don't know if he's ignoring me or just hasn't noticed that I'm standing there.

"Harry?" I ask with my voice apprehensive and quiet like I'm scared of startling him.

He still doesn't say anything, which only has my insides twist tighter as I stay glued to the spot.