*Harry's pov*

She nested her fragile body into the comforting bed, surrounding herself with damp tissues as she morosely wept. It was Friday night, and Harley was planning on watching sad films until she fell asleep. I stood curiously by her doorstep as I raised an eyebrow.

"Why don't you go out with your friend?" I suggested, the mere sight of her being absorbed by her eight pillows irritating me.

She paused her film, her soaked eyes mirroring mine. "I'm watching Safe Haven, and the next is The Notebook. And... Then I'm watching Titanic."

"You know, you are the most cliche person I know when it comes to films. What about films like Pulp Fiction?" I asked effortlessly, and she annoyingly glared.

"I don't know what that film is about. And I'm watching romances because maybe it's nice to fall in love with an unrealistic standard of men."

I felt rather offended by her comment. "What are your standards?"

"Someone who doesn't swear or bash on my religion." She spoke, her eyes still on the screen.

I coughed slightly and hardened my stare. "Fuck God."

"Fuck you." She spat, but then her eyes widened in horror. She slammed her hand over her not so innocent little mouth as she widened her panicking eyes. I let out a roar of laughter in response at her misfortune, but secretly smirked at the satisfaction it gave me.

"Harley Thomas-"

"I'm sorry!" She cried. "I didn't mean it. Y-You provoke me!"

"Did you just swear-"

"Stop!" She screamed, and swiftly stood to her feet. She pushed me out, and fiercely slammed the door. "Get out of my room!"

The tip of my nose was brushing against the wood as I exhaled frustratingly. But then I grinned slightly as I reminisced her words. "You know, those are the first words you said to me."

She replied with a fist to the other end of the door, causing a vibration. "Are you using your body wand?"

She immediately opened the door, her plump lips pursed as her messy, brown hair was falling from her ponytail. "Why are you agitating me?"

A slight smirk fell upon my lips. "Because I like it when you're agitated."

I froze as her hands pressed onto my chest and pushed me back. "You look well dressed, so aren't you supposed to be leaving? Go to a party or something, leave me alone."

I had an appointment shortly.

"You're right," I spoke irritably. "I have somewhere to be."

"Good." She spat, and slammed the door once more.

I shook my head in frustration and exited the house. I drove my bike to my destination, in a rather luxurious street beside a rather luxurious house. I tiredly swung my leg over and sauntered quickly to the front door, fixing my hair and straightening myself out as the greed for money intoxicated my conscience. I said a little pray to a God that I didn't believe in before a smartly dressed woman swung her front door open. She was in her early thirties, her blonde hair curled as she stood in silk with a glass of scotch in her hand.

I promised Harley that she was the only girl, but these were not girls. They were my salary.

Act charming. "You have a lovely house."

She looked like she had done this before as she gawked at my appearance with an intent, promiscuous smile. "Cute."

She turned around swiftly, strolling forward with the door left open as I was left to welcome myself. I rolled my eyes at her arrogance, hating that about the women I sometimes fucked because it always clashed with mine.

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