Rosie || h.s.

2.1- Harry

I laid out on the sofa with conner just watching a movie when fletcher came home from hanging out with Rosie.

he hadnt even called me to pick him up he had walked the way back. I had always assumed Ashton had dropped him off every night, thought that he was only hanging out with them, and yet I was so wrong. he had spent years in her company and I hadnt even fucking known.

man, I was a fucking dumbass.

I was still beating myself up over the fact she had been there for so long, just two streets over from my fucking house.

"I need a fucking shower," he announces and Karen calls out from the kitchen, "swear jar fletch!"

fletcher groans and conner laughs, "you got caught,"

"nicks in the shower," I state already feeling my eyelids dropping, I was tired as fuck having only gotten a little bit of sleep for the past week. the last night had been the most sleep id gotten in ages and it was only a two-four hours.

"ill shower in yours then,"

and I didn't think anything of it as he went up the stairs. not until he was calling my name.

"The towels are in the fucking c-"

"what the fuck is rosies dress doing in your bathroom?"

I've never been scared of fletcher in my life, even first meeting him and he had gotten his growth spurt before mine and hed chance me around the house I hadn't been afraid of him. but as he held up the soiled white dress in one hand and her little blue sweater in the other I couldnt help but feel my heart fucking fall to my ass.

"that's not hers," I lie it was easy enough but he laughed one quick sound before saying, "that's fucking funny seeing as this is rosies fucking dress," he showed me the hem on the bottom, a small little star drawn on with a black marker or something. "I fucking watched her draw this at lunch, I sat next to her in the booth at fucking ladies and watched her take Michael's fucking fabric marker he was using on his jean jacket and draw this fucking star."

you had to be fucking kidding me!

of course, she'd draw a fucking star on her dress! or course id forget to bring her clothes with me to her house! what the fuck was I to say to that? what the fuck was I going to tell Rosie? what was I going to tell fletcher?

"I can explain-"

"then you better get to fucking talking,"

"I dont know why you're this mad she can make her own decisions-" I didn't want to argue I didn't want this to be happening before I fully came to know what Rosie and I were to each other.

"I fucking know that but why the fuck is her dress in your bathroom?" he asks throwing her clothes at my chest. I catch them the smell of vanilla and alcohol flying into my face.

"she..." I didn't want to throw Rosie under the fucking bus. I mean she had been admitted that fletcher should not know she had gone to the party in the first place and I did not want to betray her trust but I didn't know what to fucking do. "I dont fucking know,"

"did you have sex with her?" he asked jaw locked in not so much anger but protection.

"no!" I say hands going up. I didn't know why it came out so loud but I wanted him to know I didn't have sex with her that I hadnt touched her in that way at all.

"she kissed you." he states shaking his head, "you're the fucking reason why she didn't tell me,"

he said it as if he knew it all along. he shook his hair out turning around and closing the bathroom door behind him.