Introspective Strangers [h.s.]

Chapter 22

"It's not that big of a deal," Harry said. His voice was slightly strained, and he glanced behind him to see if there were any oncoming cars coming that he would have to move out of the way for, considering he was stopped dead in the middle of the street.

"Harry, what if they ask me to do something that you claimed I did at your company! And I have no idea how to do it?"

"You're bright. You'll figure it out," he muttered. "Just get in the car–"

"I am not getting in your fucking car!" I shouted. My whole body felt as if it were vibrating with rage, both hands clenched at my sides as I stared daggers at him. He took a deep breath and shifted in his seat, visibly annoyed. "You had no right to do what you did!"

"I was doing it–"

"Don't you dare say some bullshit like you were 'doing this for me' because we both fucking know damn well that isn't the truth, considering you failed to even run this plan by me."

"Yeah, because you wouldn't have agreed," he responded. His voice was cool and collected, but I could tell that he was bubbling and boiling under the surface, doing his best to hold back from snapping at me as well.

"For good reason! And the fact that you knew I wouldn't have agreed should be reason enough. You did this to spite me for not taking that job at your company."

"I did this to get you a job," he barked.

"And I didn't ask you to!" I fumed back. My nostrils flared as I continued to glare at him, that same warm rage still coursing through me. No trace of the sunshine or moon anywhere to be found; not here, not today. "Can't you just take a fucking hint when it comes to leaving me alone?"

Harry's expression changed almost instantly at my words. His face slipped from rage, to hurt, to annoyance. He clenched his jaw as he stared at me. I didn't break eye contact, nor did I let that small ache of guilt blooming in my chest pull me away from all of the anger that I was holding onto.

"Get in the car, Killer." Harry rasped.

Though still laced with irritation, his tone was now softer. He looked away from me as he spoke. I took this opportunity to release a breath that I had been holding.

"I'll walk." I repeated and saw Harry shake his head.

"Take bus 7A going west and transfer after three stops onto bus 42. It'll drop you a block away from your apartment. If you walk, it'll take you close to two hours." He didn't wait for me to reply before he pulled away from the curb and sped down the street, leaving me standing there on the sidewalk.

--

Much to my bitter disappointment, I was extremely grateful that Harry had given me directions on how to get home. Turns out, I really didn't know where the fuck I was and most definitely would have ended up lost and dead in a ditch long before I made it anywhere close to my place.

Would I have preferred to ride home in a car with a familiar face rather than sit on a bus for three-quarters of an hour? Sure. Definitely.

Would I ever have let my pride admit that to Harry? No. Not a single chance in Hell.

Luckily for me, the bus ride gave me a lot of time to think. I decided that I couldn't harbour any more anger towards Harry, or else it would drive me insane. I had to channel these feelings into something physical; something tangible that would allow me to get all of my frustration out.

This is why the first words that came out of my mouth as soon as I got home to both of my roommates were:

"Let's get drunk. Like wasted."