Stockholm Syndrome / h.s

Chapter Twenty Three

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*Harry's POV*

I subconsciously tap my foot impatiently against the campus wall as I waited for Jack, for our usual meet ups.

“Where the fuck were you??” I yelled as he appeared from around the corner.

“Geez,” he sighs. “I was busy.”

“Busy with what? Fucking my girlfriend?”I shot back.

There was a long awkward silence.

“Harry I'm s–”

“Oh shut the fuck up,” I groan. “If this is the part where you give me your 'I'm so sorry' explanation then I do not want to hear it. At all.” by this time I'm literally fuming. “But before I fuck you up really badly. I suggest you tell me what you found out, like I told you to, you bastard.”

He sighs deeply and places both his hands on his head. “You're just going to let go of this... Emma and I?”he asks quietly in confusion.

“Well, to be honest, I sleep around too. So I don't really give a fuck. She's been annoying me lately anyway. But unfortunately for you, that's the last time it happens, Jack. Because if it happens again, then I'm going to gladly cut off your balls with a pliers for all I care and shove them into your god-damn mouth, do you understand me?”

“Yes..” he quickly nods and I smirk. It's like he would just obey everything I say, and I liked it.

“I couldn't find out anything,” he sighs. “According to Mike, Bella doesn't know anything. Plus that Mela, Mary – or whatever her name is keeping her mouth shut, as instructed by Mike.”

I groan in frustration. This is just going to be a whole lot harder because then none of her behavior lately leads to this.

“I'm telling you. She knows something!” I yell. How else would it explain the sudden coldness towards me? Just a few days ago when we went for pizza she was completely normal towards me.

“Jesus Christ, Harry. I'm trying as hard as I can, okay? It's impossible for her to know, because there aren't even any cameras around here. So how the hell would she see?”

He has got a point. But I'm just really thinking about the 'what if's' here.

“Fine,”I exhale. “Now fuck off out my face, boy.”

-

*Bella's POV*

I glance one more time around the room, if in case I forgot anything that I might need for Art, which is my next lesson.

I don't really like Art, wait,let me rephrase that. I enjoy the drawing of it, but the cultural side of it? Nah, not so much.

“Morning, Miss Mccoy!” the old – but bubbly art teacher exclaims and I roll my eyes. She had too much energy for this time of the morning. She actually reminded me of that one teacher in High School Musical the movie, I forgot her name but whatever.

“Mrs Mae,” I nod politely and take my seat in third row.

“So my fellow good students,” she begins and I roll my eyes. She's so annoying it's unreal. “We won't really be doing much work today, so instead I'm just going to give you free time! I've also noticed some of you hardly talk to one each other. And that's a shame! So what I'd say is, turn to the person next to you and try and get to know them!” she says enthusiastically earning groans from around the classroom.

“What are we? In eighth grade? This isn't fucking high school,” someone murmured loudly and we all turned around to the person who said it. He looked fairly familiar to be honest, his strong jawline, black hair and dark eyes looked mesmerizing. Like I've seen him before–I've never noticed him in art before, though.

“Young man!” she exclaims flabbergasted. “You. Board. Name. Now.” he groans and gets up from his seat, strolling towards the board.

“Faster,” she orders. “And pull up those pants young man. Nobody's interested in seeing your behind!” she says causing the class to laugh, including me.

“Whatever,” he mumbles and grabs a piece of chalk lifting up his arm.

But something on his upper arm then catches my eye, causing my heart to stop.

The key tattoo.

a.n cliffhangers hehehaha
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