Fate (h.s.au)

XIII

"Do you actually work there?" I ask Harry as we walk past the auto shop he's usually smoking in front of.

"Yeah, my dad owns the place," he explains, my eyes taking a look inside the window. It's lit up slightly due to the emergency lights; car parts and a few cars inside.

"You like it?" I wonder, the two of us continuing to walk. He starts telling me how he doesn't mind it. His father wants to pass it down to him; he doesn't know if he wants it.

"Reason why?" I say, keeping the conversation going. It's surprising me, but I'm getting weed out of this.

"I don't want to be stuck here my entire life. I haven't left because I can't stand leaving my dad," he tells me, my eyebrows furrowing. Sounds like someone has daddy issues.

"Daddy issues?" I ask, smiling at the ground when I do so. I'm just trying to get a rise out of him; it's karma.

"Fuck no," he quickly responds, my head turning to look at him. He takes note of my smile and he rolls his eyes; however, a smile appears on his lips.

"Want a story?" he asks, more than likely asking to see if I'll actually listen. But I'm interested to know why he hasn't left. I let him know I'll listen.

"My mom passed away when I was twelve. She was the one that told me all about the world, but I barely listened. Looking back on it, I probably should have, but I was an asshole of a kid," he starts, my lips curving at his words.

"You still are," I tell him, lightly nudging his arm. He just chuckles, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"My parents were soulmates, making me believe fate was a load of shit. But when I saw families getting ripped apart was when I realized that the world sucks. My dad kind of fell into a depressed state when she died, so I felt like I couldn't leave. Still, can't leave," he emphasizes, my lip bitten between my teeth.

Harry's story is not a glamorous one, just as mine isn't. He put his life in perspective for me and I see him like a human, not so much of an asshole.

We reach his building and we walk in, my body following his. I set my phone on the table and Harry takes his jacket off, leaving just a short sleeve shirt on.

"Ready?" he asks, and I smile. We damn near run to the roof and he shows me where he usually sits, a random picnic table up here.

I watch as he rolls the paper, twisting the end. He flicks his thumb against the lighter and lights it, inhaling soon after. He passes it to me and I reciprocate his actions.

"Fuck," I sigh out, never thinking one drag would feel so good.

"Good?" he smiles, my head nodding. I lay back on the table, looking up at the stars while he lays beside me.

We pass the joint between us, taking turns and just looking at the sky. When the high hits, I start laughing. When I'm high, I feel elated and on cloud nine.

"Happy?" I hear Harry say, my hands resting over my stomach. I feel it move when I laugh.

"I'm happy, baby," I grin, laughing even harder at my words. I just called him baby, even though I hate it when he calls me it.

"Knock that shit off, baby," he teases, catching onto my hypocritical behavior. I inhale from the joint once more before sitting up. Harry follows shortly after and I move to lean my head on his arm. I feel him move the arm closest to me back, simply to stabilize me.

My mind starts to think about what he had just told me about his mom. I've never physically lost a parent, but both of them are out of my life.

"My mom kicked me out," I tell him, not minding how random my words are. "And my dad left when I was fourteen."

He rests his head on mine and I close my eyes, feeling the buzz in my body.

"You alright?" he asks, and I nod. I can feel the warmth from his body and I move my hand to his thigh, keeping it there.

"She didn't put up with my shit. Like you, I was a bit of an asshole," I say slowly, making him laugh.

"You still are, Lina," he tells me, making the two of us laugh.

Harry flicks the end of the joint away and I look up at him, his eyes already looking at me. I keep my eyes focused on him and I bring my finger to his lips, feeling over them again.

They're so soft and feel just as how I remember them from last night. That is a vivid memory despite the influence of alcohol.

"Wanna know what I've heard?" I ask, removing my hand and setting it back on his thigh. I'm thinking about something I've heard numerous times, but I'm curious with him.

"What's that?" he asks, his eyes dark as he looks at me. His body is leaned close towards mine and I lean closer to his. I'm dazed, unable to control just how I'm feeling right now.

"I've heard that the color of a guy's lips," I say, bringing my finger to poke his lower one again. "Is the same color as the tip of their dick."

I watch my finger retract from his lips once more before I look up into his eyes, his lips parted still. I can tell I've rendered him speechless. There is a small chance I'm toying with him right now, but there is also a small chance I want to see just how far this might go. I don't mean sexually; I just want to see what he's going to do next.

Then I feel his hand grab my cheek, my eyes closing at the contact. I haven't really let a man touch my face before. It was always the one action I would shy away from. Harry had touched my chin a few times, but I'd always push him off.

"I don't let people touch my face," I whisper, blurting out my feelings due to my inhibitions being lower than usual.

"Why's that?" he asks, brushing his thumb along my cheekbone. It's such a gentle touch; soothing in a weird way.

"My, um, my dad," I trail, not wanting to bring up a touchy subject. It wasn't frequent, by any means, it was more out of spite when he'd come home drunk. My mother didn't deserve his resistant behavior due to their lack of connection.

"He hurt you?" he wonders, my eyes remaining closed. All I can do is nod. I'm not broken from what happened in the past; if anything, it made me stronger. My father was a piece of crap who took his anger out on his wife and daughter.

I open my eyes and look into his, grabbing his wrist and pulling it off my face. He stays focused on me and I stand from the table, feeling overwhelmed with what has just occurred.

"I've had enough for the night," I explain my behavior, his body moving off the table to follow me as I make my way to the stairs.