It's quiet. Like many other car rides with Harry. Although this time is different, we don't know what to say because of the events that happened tonight. And even the events that took place earlier this morning when I threw him out without any warning or explanation.
After twenty minutes or so, which honestly felt like hours, we pull into Harry's familiar and expensive apartment building, leading to his penthouse sat perfectly on the highest floor.
Harry turns off the engine, "C'mon." He mumbles, getting out of the car.
I follow Harry to the entrance of the building, we both get in the elevator and wait as we approach to his floor. We just stand awkwardly beside each other until we hear the 'ding' and the doors separate for us to enter.
Harry walks in, tossing his keys on a small table by the elevator.
I follow behind him like a lost dog, taking my heels off and holding them in my hands once again. I don't know what to do, say, or go. This whole situation; the tension between the two of us is hard to read let alone react.
Harry goes into his kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets until he pulls out a cup and goes to his sink to get himself some water.
I take this time to awkwardly look down at my legs, and my clothes that stuck to my body. The evidence of my vomit still on my jeans, and at the bottom of my shirt. It looked like it had been attempted to be wiped up while I spent however long at the hospital, but it was still there and it was gross. I bring my hand to the side of my head, tracing my fingers along to bandage on my temple. I must have been bleeding, I don't remember that.
"You can take a shower upstairs," Harry recognizes my discomfort, "If you, uh, if you want."
I slowly nod at him, "Yeah, that would be nice. Thanks."
I set my heels down by the entrance and behind walking towards the stairs, making my way up until I reach the top and I find myself in front of the guest room I had once spent the night in. I fumble with the doorknob before I push the door open, and just as I'm about to step inside Harry's voice makes me jump.
"No." My hand goes flying to my racing heart beat, "You can shower in mine. It's bigger and I have more towels and, y'know everything."
What the—
"Oh. Okay." I say surprised, closing the guest door and following Harry into his massive bedroom, it was exactly how I thought it would be.
Everything was pretty much black. He had black furniture, black bedding, curtains, his walls were painted a medium shade of grey. It was very much what I expected from Harry seeing that the rest of his house was also a darker theme.
Harry shows me to his bathroom, which was big as expected. The tile on the floor was black, along with the shower wall, the shower was framed with glass as you can walk in. It looked like it could fit six people in there. I've never seen a shower like this in person before, no one I've ever known has had anything this fancy.
"Towels are over there," He points, "Use whatever you want. I'll just be," He jacks his thumb behind him, "In there."
I nod, mumbling a quick 'thank you' before he disappears behind the door, leaving me alone in this huge bathroom.
I sigh and sink my shoulders low, fumbling my fingers to the button of my jeans before pulling them down and stepping out of them along with my panties shortly after. I pull my shirt over my head, unclasping my bra before I walk to the shower, starting it up and stepping under the water once I deemed the temperature fit for my liking.
I immediately sigh in relief as I step under the stream, letting the water take over my body. I wash my body with a bar of soap, sudsing up my skin. Finishing off with washing my hair, trying my hardest to avoid the bandage on my temple.
The whole shower I am lost in my head, trying to wrap around the situation I'm in. It's the most confusing thing in the world; I know I want to ask Harry really anything, but I don't know if it will actually clarify things for me or make things worse. Harry is not an easy person to talk to.
I shut off the water, exiting the shower and wrapping my body with the towel laid out for me. I grab another hanging towel and gently pat my wet hair so the droplets of water can't escape before patting my face dry as well.
I look up at the foggy mirror, looking at my messy reflection. I feel much better now being rinsed off and properly cleaned. But I don't have any clothes to change into.
I cling the towel to my chest, careful to not let it drop as I open the door leading to his bedroom. I slowly move the door ajar, peaking my head and my upper body out to see Harry laid out on his bed, lying on his back and his legs crossed, his phone in his hand as he scrolls mindlessly. I notice he had discarded his body of the blue shirt he had on, probably because there was traces of blood on it. He was shirtless with nothing but his tight jeans on.
I clear my throat, making his head peak up from his phone, "I need clothes." I say.
He stares at me for a moment, nodding and getting up and disappears to the other side of the room. I hear him rustling around for a moment before coming in front of me, a black t-shirt and a pair of boxers in his arms.
I stifle an awkward smile, grabbing the clothes from him with a thank you, closing the door to change in the privacy of this bathroom.
I completely dry myself, slipping the shirt over my head not bothering to put my bra on. I step into the boxers as well, leaning down to pile my dirty clothes and folding the towel on the counter.
I take a breath, grabbing a hold of the handle and opening the door to be greeted by Harry once again on his bed, this time his eyes closed briefly before he hears me enter the room, his head shooting up to me.
"Thanks." I say, slowly walking toward him. He nods his head, swinging his legs off the bed so he's sitting on the edge. I sit beside him.
We don't say anything for a couple minutes . Just sitting awkwardly next to each other. I think we don't know what to say.
I know I want to talk, and I have a feeling that Harry does too. Too much has happened today that it would be foolish not to speak about it, I still need to apologize for this morning.
I guess there's only so many ways to engage in this.
I decide to take a leap, wanting to get the ball rolling. "Did you.." I whisper, "Is he dead?"
Harry's quiet. He doesn't even move to acknowledge me in any form.
"Harry—"
"Why would you think that?" He snaps, making me jump in the slightest.
"Well you, you said you took care of it. And the way you—you just kept punching him and the blood I just thought—"
He cuts me off, "I should have."
I'm taken a back, "No, Harry he—"
Harry is suddenly standing up, so he towering over me, "Yes! I should have, you don't know what he was—what he was planning to do with you!" He shouts.
I shake my head, "I do know what he was planning, Harry." I tell him.
He gapes at me, "What? And you are going to act like it wasn't a big deal?"
"It could have been, but nothing happened. I'm fine, I got out of it. You got me out of it."
"He drugged you!" My body stiffens.
"Please don't say-"
"It's the truth, Ara. He d—"
"Don't fucking say it!" I suddenly raise my voice, making him completely still. My fists are at my sides where I'm sat on the bed.
He blinks at me, sitting down to join me once again.
"I know what he did, you don't need to say it." My voice is lower and softer this time. "I know what he wanted to do. But the point is that he didn't. And he couldn't, so I'm fine." Am I fine? I have to keep telling myself that.
He shakes his head, "Do you remember why he said he was doing it?"
What, he told Harry? I couldn't remember much, I definitely couldn't remember if they even spoke before Harry beat him to a pulp.
"I don't remember much besides him grabbing me, making myself throw up, and seeing you on top of him." I explain to him, making his shoulders tense in the slightest. "It's not rocket science, he didn't think he could pull me unless I was completely inebriated. He's a classic pussy." I'm trying my hardest to make it sound like it's not a big deal at all; but I know there's hesitation behind my words, and I don't know if Harry can detect it.
Harry just looks at me, his eyes moving back and forth between my own. He's doing that thing again where he's trying to read me like a book, it makes me uneasy.
"Why'd you kick me out this morning?" He asks softly, "Don't say it's because of your plans, I know that's bullshit."
I knew I had to apologize and explain myself at some point, I just don't know how. It's suddenly catching me off guard.
I look down at my fingers in my lap, taking a breath. "I—" I lick my lips, "I don't know."
"What was the dream about?"
My jaw clenches, and I feel my fingernails digging into my palms, "It's not important."
He sighs, "You don't need to tell me what it was about," He changes his mind, "But I want to know why you were so adamant on getting me out."
How do I answer this if I don't know the answer myself?
"It's just," I breathe, "I don't know. I don't know what we're doing. I know it's nothing; I know we both don't want anything from this but it confuses me when you act all...like, well like you care. We shouldn't even be sleeping in the same bed." What I'm saying isn't a lie, but it's enough to provide some kind of explanation.
Harry's eyes are on me, while my eyes are on my lap. "I don't," He clears his throat, "I don't know either. I don't know what this is or even if it's anything. It shouldn't be, but Ara,"
His mentioning of my name makes my head turn to face his so I'm looking in his eyes, "I don't care for anyone. I don't. I never have, I'm selfish."
I nod my head, so this is his way of saying he doesn't care for me?
"I can't believe I'm going to say this," He mumbles, his eyes rolling, "But for whatever reason, a reason I don't know...I—I feel like I do? I do care for you?" He sounds annoyed at his own words, his eyes pinching shut with every word leaving his mouth like a question.
"And when I saw you with that—that prick I was mad. And that was before I even knew what he was going to do. I was watching you the whole time, thinking of ways I can make an excuse and go over there and beat the fuck out of him,"
I have never heard Harry talk this much before, but I listen intently.
"And then when I saw him drag you outside, I was going to fucking kill him." His eyes shoot open from their pinched state, his jaw clenching, I could see his body shaking in what seemed to be anger, "I should have killed him, but instead I left him bloody and broken behind a building. He should be dead."
Is he really capable of that? I keep asking myself if I could even possibly think of Harry doing something like that, but thinking back about how he presents himself; and even the way he beat Ronnie, makes it that much more believable.
I raise my eyebrows, hearing the end of his rant. I expected us to talk, but I did not think it was going to end up like this.
I don't say anything, Harry noticed and immediately begins again, "I'm not saying I want to date you or anything, that's something I don't do. I'm just saying—well fuck I don't even know. I like..being around you?"
Wow. Never did I think Harry would be confessing all of this to me, or confess anything to me at all.
I swallow, "Harry, I can't do something like this again. I know you think you care about me, and you think you like being around me but that's not going to last long. It never does. You'll realize more about me and you'll want nothing to do with me."
"You'll want nothing to do with me once you realize just what kind of person I am, you're not the only one, Ara."
A chill runs up my back at his words, it doesn't sit right with me. But I want to know more, this proves that my intuition has been right all along, Harry's hiding something.
I don't even know what we are doing, Harry.
My eyebrows raise at him, "And what kind of person are you, Harry?"
His lips slowly pull up on one side of his mouth in a teasing grin, "What kind of person are you, Arabella?"
He's avoiding the question.
He really used my name like that. Seriously, nobody ever calls me that. No one in my family did ever.
"I guess that's something we both have to figure out." I tell him, making his eyebrows furrow in the slightest.
He's staring at me again, but this time I'm staring back. His green irises pouring into my soul. That's one thing about Harry I could never get over; those damn eyes. His eyes were always telling about his mood. They are usually dark, and intimidating. He looks angry all the time, and he just looks like he hates everyone. His eyes were the same when we would fuck, and now that i think about it; I don't think I've ever seen his eyes when they are not dark and angry. Perhaps aside from when he has woken up, they were just a perfect shade of green. Not angry eyes, but tired eyes.
"Are you sure you are okay?" He asks me after a moment of looking at me.
I nod, flashing the biggest smile I could manage. "More than okay."
Harry is still looking at me, well, right through me. I can tell that he doesn't believe me for a second. And to be completely honest; I don't believe myself either.
All I know is I made it out of that situation alive, and unharmed for the most part. I have no reason to be upset. I mean, I put myself in that situation by taking a drink from a stranger. I should have been smarter about it.
Harry's shakes his head out of his thoughts, before sighing, "Let's go to bed. Yeah?"
I nod at him, before leaning back on the bed to crawl backwards towards the head of the bed. I finally plop down once my upper half reaches the pillows. I lift my hips up to push the blankets down below me so I could slip under them.
Harry stands up from the bed, disappearing into the bathroom for a minute or two, and I could hear the faucet running, he's brushing his teeth.
I situate myself under the covers, laying flat on my back staring at the light in the center of the room on the ceiling while I wait for Harry to finish up.
Harry walks out of the bathroom, now in his black boxers that clung tightly to his slight bulge. I try my hardest to rip my eyes away from the sight as he turns around to fix something on his dresser. The muscles of his back and the way they flex as he works on something in front of him, his ass, which is way better than mine by the way, looks fucking perfect in that tight material.
His body is fucking magnificent.
"What you staring at, angel?"
My head immediately snaps out of it's dirty thoughts and I close my eyes for a second, "Nothing, sorry."
My eyes open to see him turned around to face me, a smirk on his face before he 'tsk's' and turns back around. As he moves, I see that he was setting up a small table lamp on his dresser. It was a small, grey lamp with a dark shade around it. I didn't even see him grab it, let alone set it up and I know it's because my eyes were wandering all across his body as he worked on it.
He twists the tiny switch on it, making it light up to the lowest setting it had. He then walks to the doorway, flicking off the main light to the bedroom and shutting the door. As he does, the room becomes darker; but the light of the lamp provides a very subtly and warm light to the room, the dark shade around the bulb makes the light a little more dim so it isn't distracting or bright at all.
He made sure there was light, again.
My heart and stomach flip once again at his repeated gesture, before he climbs into the large bed and slips under the covers with me. Both of us laying on our backs to look up at the dim ceiling.
A couple minutes go by, nothing being said between us as we just lay in the comfortable silence. This is another time where we are completely quiet and it isn't tense or awkward; it's just comfortable.
"Fuckin' hell." I hear Harry mumble out of no where, he sounds annoyed and frustrated.
Okay, well maybe he wasn't feeling as comfortable as I thought we both were.
"What's wrong—"
He cuts me off, and I feel him move around in the bed so he's laying on his side facing me, "Turn around."
My eyes widen at his demand, and I'm confused by it but I do it anyway. Flipping my body on its side so my back is to Harry.
I feel him shuffle a bit more, before his chest presses up against my back, his knee pushing my legs barely apart so his leg can slip easily between my two, and his arm drapes over my waist as he pulls my body in tighter against his.
Oh, he wanted to cuddle?
His head dips delicately into my neck for a moment, like he's watching for my reaction, before he removes his head so it lays flat against the pillows behind my own head.
I smile softly to myself, knowing he can't see my face.
"Thank you, Harry." I whisper.
"For what?" He mumbles back, he sounds almost asleep.
"For saving me tonight. I don't think I gave you a proper 'thanks', so uhm.." I swallow, "Thank you. You didn't have to do that."
He squeezes his arm around me even tighter, making me softly gasp for a second.
He takes a moment to respond. "I would do it again if I had the chance." Harry muffles against the pillows. "And I would kill him."
***
woahhhh feelings ...gross
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