"I used to like smoking to stop all the thinking
But I found a different buzz
The world is a curse, it'll kill if you let it
I know they got pills that can help you forget it
They bottle it, call it medicine
But I don't need drugs."
**DOUBLE UPDATE
-
The house is quiet, without Maggie here. There's no giggling; there's no pitty patter of tiny feet down the hallway. It's just Cheddar and me tonight, and he's curled up in my lap, purring while I rub his tummy.
There's a knock at my door around six-thirty. The rhythmic thuds echo through my flat. I placed the book I had been reading down after creasing the corner of the page I was on, careful not to lose my place. Then, I gently pick up Cheddar and lay him down on the couch beside me to stand. I had expected Harry to be at the door, but instead, I found a black box wrapped delicately with a red satin bow. When I lift the sleek box, I slip out the notecard that had been held down under the perfectly tied ribbon.
- H
How inconspicuous.
Cheddar follows me down the hall and into my room. He's still too small to jump on my bed. So, after a few persistent and desperate meows, I pick up the noisy cat and help him out. When he plops down on one of my pillows, he watches as I place the black box on my bed. Then, I pick up my phone and send Harry a quick text.
Allie:
Sent - 6:00pm
Gucci? Really?
Harold:
Received - 6:01pm
The red one was my favorite
I roll my eyes. Of course, he ignores my question.
When it's seven-thirty, I finish doing my makeup — a black Smokey eye with a red lip, and shortly after, I finish doing my hair that I pin back in a neat bun. All I need to do now is figure out what dress to wear. I could pick the red dress like Harry suggested or purposefully wear a different one just to piss him off.
...
Yeah, I'm feeling petty tonight.
So, I folded the red dress and neatly put it back in the box. Now, all I have left to inspect is the royal green dress and the black dress.
The royal green dress is pretty – a mix between lace and silk. The top, in particular, is lacy and dips down between the breasts to reveal some cleavage. It stays tight and fits around the mid-section up until around the hips, where the bottom drape is flowy and free. The dress is beautiful, and seeing as how green is slowly becoming my favorite color, I should pick this dress but –
I don't think I'm ready for it.
This dress is elegant and beautiful, but it reveals every part of my body I try to hide. It's not like Candy is here either to help cover my scars with makeup either.
That leaves the black dress.
It's much simpler than the other dresses, yet sophisticated and refined. The dress holds only one long sleeve on the left arm, leaving the right arm bare and uncovered. There's a leg slit on the left leg, and it reaches up to about the middle thigh. It looks tight for the most part, but it does seem to loosen around the legs to be somewhat flowy and movable. It's meant to fit snuggly around my body.
So, I slide on the black dress, the suede fabric sliding pleasantly over my skin. It's a struggle to zip the back, but I manage. I have no idea how I'll take it off, though.
When I look in the mirror, I'm a bit uncomfortable, but I don't feel horrible. I can stare at my reflection a little longer these days.
I inspect each part of me – my arms, thighs, stomach. I even turn around and crane my neck to look over my shoulder. As it turns out, I'm not as lucky as I thought. One of my scars is peaking out from the fabric and any and all confidence I had previously drained away.
Thinking quickly, I take my hair out from its bun, removing every Bobby pin that held my hair back. Thank God – my hair is just barely long enough to cover the scars on the part of my back that's exposed. That's a relief. "Black dress it is," I mutter to myself, thoughtlessly throwing the bobby pins into my purse.
As I slip on the black pumps that came with the dresses that Harry sent me, my phone that I had haphazardly thrown on my bed buzzes.
Harold
Received - 6:30pm
Be there in 15
Anxiety bubbles in my stomach. Oh jeez. I can't believe I'm doing this tonight. I've done a lot of things but stealing from a Curator? Now that's a new one.
I walk to the kitchen, and I feed Cheddar dinner and make sure he has clean water. I give him more than I usually do, and he seems delighted.
I don't know if I'll be coming back tonight.
I need to relax.
So, while awkwardly waiting on the couch for Harry to arrive, I decidedly FaceTime Julie. Only a few rings go by before she answers.
"Hey, what's up?" She props her phone up in her kitchen. She's cutting up some potatoes before putting them in a boiling pot of water.
"Is Bug still awake?" I want to see Maggie. She always makes me feel okay.
Maggie's hands wrap around the edge of the counter then and, standing on her tiptoes, I just barely see her little eyes peek at Julie's phone. I laugh.
"Hi, Allie!"
"Hi, Mags. Are you being good?"
"Yeah. Me and Aunty J are watching Ariel! And- and she's making mash tatoes and chicken."
"Mashed potatoes, Mags," Julie corrects.
"Oh yeah?" I smile. "You're really not watching Frozen?"
"Oh, we're watching that after!" Maggie says triumphantly, bouncing up and down.
"Well, it looks like you two are having so much fun." Julie's face says it all – help me. I laugh again, and I find myself wishing I could be with them two right now.
"Yeahhh," Julie sighs and shakes her head. "One of us is," she grumbles low enough, so Maggie doesn't hear.
I know what she means. There are only so many times I can listen to Let it Go without wanting to rip my hair out. "How are you feeling, Julez?"
"Well, my feet are sore, and- oh, I forgot to tell you that the morning sickness is finally kicking in."
I cringe. I remember when my mother was pregnant with Maggie and her morning sickness kicked in. Morning sickness can be absolutely dilapidating. "Are you okay? Do you need anything?"
I see Maggie walk back to the living room from the corner of the camera. "Nooo, I'm okay," she smiles just barely. "I have to be okay, ya know?"
"You don't have to be okay, Julie. I'm pretty sure it was you who told me it's okay not to be okay."
"But, I have to be. I'm... I'm going to be a mom."
I sigh, wishing I could help her get through this messy situation. "One thing I've learned from raising Maggie is — you're not always going to be perfect. But, parenting isn't about being perfect. You're bound to fail at some point. Patenting is about striving to be perfect. They deserve the best version of you so that you can raise the best version of them. But, we're not superhuman." Julie nods slowly at what I say. "We aren't perfect, and that's okay. Loving them and giving them all that we can — that's all we can do." When she says nothing, I speak up again.
What I tell her is how I genuinely feel. It's okay not to be a perfect parent. What's not okay is not trying to be a perfect parent.
I clear my throat. "Have you uh, have you decided if you're going to tell Niall yet?"
Julie sucks in a deep breath. "Nope." She grows quiet for a moment. "I haven't spoken to him in days." Oh. That's not good.
I curse under my breath when she gets emotional. This isn't what I wanted to happen!! Fuck, I hate that I'm not with her right now. "Well, just know that I'm here for you, Julie. Always. I'll have your back no matter what."
Her smile barely reaches her eyes. "...yeah, I know."
"Well, tell Mags I love her and give her a kiss goodnight for me."
"I will. Be safe at work tonight."
Ha. Work.
Harry doesn't leave much room for me to overthink the entire Julie situation. The second I hang up, a new text message comes in.
Harold:
Received - 6:48
Here.
Gosh, I'm so nervous. Popping up from the couch, I nearly trip over my end table while rushing to the bathroom. I brush down any static strands of hair that might have stuck up. Then I make sure my makeup still looks all right, pursing and analyzing my red-stained lips in the mirror.
Fuck, what am I doing? I need to go.
Nearly tripping over Cheddar, I run through my apartment, practically trip, grab my purse, and rush out the door.
Just breathe, Allie, I tell myself. It's the only thing I can do.
Except, breathing gets exceptionally more challenging when I see Harry.
Walking out onto the street, the first thing I see is Harry, and he's leaning against the side of a sleek black BMW. White button-up, a jacket, tie, trousers, and a waistcoat – he's clad in a black and perfectly tailored suit that frames his toned body in the best of ways.
His hair is different tonight. It's tied back in a small bun, but a few shorter strands, however, fall forward and frame his eyes that I always lose myself in.
Is he wearing eyeliner?
His nails are painted black too.
When he looks up from his phone, he pauses. For a moment, it's just us two gazing and feeling things we don't really know how to explain. He never says anything, but his eyes do trail down my body. It's not entirely sexual, but I do squirm. Maybe he's not happy I'm not wearing the red dress?
Whatever it is, he forgets about it as he opens the passenger side door. He looks at me expectantly. Oh. "Y-You're opening the door for me?"
"No, I'm just standing here."
I huff, and my cheeks and ears burn. Why'd I ask such a stupid question? "Thank you," I mumble as I duck into the car. When I'm inside, Harry shuts the door, makes his way around, and gets back in the driver's seat.
"Seatbelt."
"I know, I know," I shake my head and put my seatbelt on. "I'm doing it. Relax."
Harry sighs heavily. Well, he doesn't seem to be in a good mood tonight. Then again, when is he ever in a good mood?
"Are you okay?"
Harry looks over his shoulder before peeling from the curb and driving down the street. "'M fine."
"You don't seem fine." He doesn't answer me. Pursing my lips, I keep talking. "Well, since you won't talk, I'll talk for the both of us." I threaten, and I look at him expectantly, but he says nothing. He only keeps his eyes forward. "Well, this morning, I woke up at seven to bring Maggie to school. She lost her glasses so I have to order her a new pair and gosh– they're so expensive. Then, I stepped in to throw up because Cheddar thought it was a good idea to leave a little surprise for me right by the front door-"
"Can you shut up?"
Oh, this night is off to a great start. I puff out some hair, blowing some of my hair away from my eyes. "I'm nervous! I'm just trying to make conversation!"
"Well, I don't want to talk right now."
Fine. Rolling my eyes, I cross my arms and lean back in my seat. I keep my gaze forward, and the next thing I know is that we're driving in utter silence. I can't stand it. He can't seriously expect me to sit still for the next twenty minutes, does he?
I can't sit still, and he knows that!
So, after eyeing him from the corner of my peripheral vision, I lean forward and turn the volume to the radio on.
It's The Beach by The Neighborhood, and instantly, my eyes light up. "I love this song- hey!"
Harry turns the radio off. "I'm not in the mood, Rosaline."
Oh.
Ouch.
I bite my lip and nod as guilt wracks my chest. "Oh. Sorry." I lean back in my seat and cross my arms over my chest.
Why does he hate me so much? I don't like it when people hate me. Not too long ago, I didn't care about Harry's feelings towards me, but it bothers me now beyond belief.
It really bothers me.
What bothers me more is the fact he just called me Rosaline.
I thought things were becoming tolerable between us. I thought things were getting better – that we had found a mutual ground – an understanding.
I was wrong, wasn't I?
I turn away from him, suddenly wanting to be as far from him as possible. Why would he do that to me? Why would he call me Rosaline after what I told him? I can't even lie to myself – it hurt. It hurt more than I ever expected it to.
When we pull up to the grand venue — an old cathedral structured from outdated architecture and grey stone — Harry finally speaks to me. Niall and Louis are close by in another building doing surveillance. Put this in your ear."
Without speaking, I grab the earpiece and carefully place it in my ear. "H-Hello?"
"Hello, darling. How are you doing?"
"Fuck off, Niall." I snap, now suddenly glowering.
"Oh, how I've missed you, Allie."
"Stop being a dick, Niall." Louis chastizes.
"Oh, hi Louis!" I end up beaming and sitting up straighter when I hear his soothing voice.
"Hiii, Allie." I can hear the smile in his voice too. He always was my favorite.
"Oh, so he gets a nice and friendly hello, but I don't?" Niall cuts in again. God, I think he's moodier than Harry sometimes.
Harry seems unamused with the conversation as we sit there and are forced to listen to Louis and Niall bickering.
Harry turns to me before opening his door. "Stay in the car for a second," I pout when he steps out of the car. He's so demanding tonight. Harry walks around the front of his parked vehicle and pulls my door open.
He kneels before me, and instantly, my stomach flips. "What are you doing!?"
"Relax," he rolls his eyes and pats my left leg three times. "Swing your legs over so I can put this on you."
"Put what on me?"
"A knife holster."
"A what?!"
"Jesus, you have a good pair of lungs," Niall groans into the mic.
"I-I don't want a knife, Harry. I-I don't like knives."
"Well, it's this or a gun, and you can't exactly conceal a gun with this tight dress." No, he doesn't understand. I'm terrified of knives. "You can't go in their defenseless," Harry states when he looks up at me and sees my ghastly expression.
"Do you even know how to use a knife?" Louis questions.
"...No."
Niall grumbles. "It's easy. Aim and stab."
I wish I could aim and stab at you, Niall.
I yelp when Harry forcefully swings my legs over so they're out from the car, and moves my dress to the side from the leg slit. Calloused fingers brush over the soft skin of my left thigh as he skillfully and a little roughly wraps a knife holster around me.
"Just relax," Louis says with an easy-going voice. "You probably won't even have to use it tonight."
"Or you'll kill someone," Niall rebuttals.
"Bloody hell, stop teasing the poor girl!"
Harry sighs and fixes my dress haphazardly when he's finished attaching the harness to my upper thigh. Then, he stands in an agile manner and fixes his suit. I can't stop looking at his hands. "C'mon. Let's head in, Allie." Harry interrupts Niall and Louis' little fight, and I can hear Niall suddenly choke.
"Oh, that's right, we're uh," Niall clears his throat and speaks in a much deeper voice. Is he imitating Bat Man? Well, if he's trying to do that, he sounds like a very Irish Bruce Wayne. "We're ready." I'm not sure what I heard, but I'm pretty sure Louis just smacked Niall. "Ow! That hurt, dick!"
"Shut the hell up then," Louis snips.
Ah, I'll have to thank Louis later. I've wanted to hit Niall for a while now.
I follow Harry out of the car, and begrudgingly, we walk up the long stone steps together. When we enter the Cathedral, my eyes widen as I take in everything.
Wow — there are more people here than I expected.
Harry leans down, and his lips just barely brush past the shell of my ear. It makes me shiver. "The black dress was my favorite."
I look up at him with furrowed brows. I love how the liner he's wearing exenterates the greens of his eyes. It's hard to stay focused while looking at him. "Huh? I thought you said the red dress was your favorite?"
One corner of Harry's lips tugs upwards. "I lied. I knew you'd pick the black dress."
"So, you manipulated me into wearing the black dress?"
"No. I gave you options, didn't I? There's no manipulation in that." The sly smile on my lips tells me otherwise.
"Y-You're matching me," I realize. Black three-piece suit, black eyeliner, black nails. His suit is even made out of the same suede material as my dress.
There's an artful smile on Harry's lips as we walk together. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
I wasn't expecting Harry to offer his arm out to me, but he does. Hesitating, I wrap my arm around his and walk with him side by side now. I am technically his date, so I guess this is just something I have to deal with for now.
The walls inside the Cathedral are white, but there's not a single corner that doesn't have a piece of art hanging from it. The floors are made of recently waxed marble, resulting in my heels clicking loudly with each step I take. The ceilings are high, with arching hallways and sparkling chandeliers.
Modernism, impressionism, Abstract, Surrealism – my favorite styles of art surround me. They're all so beautiful.
Harry leads me through the crowd, and we blend in perfectly. His eyes are already scanning the exits and the security guards that are on every corner. Harry particularly hones in on the security guard looking at me from across the room, but I ignore it. I want to focus on something else for just a moment. I mean, we're trying to blend in right now anyway. It won't hurt to look at some art, will it?
I tug Harry's arm. "C'mon, this way!"
"What are you-"
"Just shush, and please come with me!" With a little more tugging, I'm finally able to drag Harry across the room. Maybe this will put him in a better mood. I hold his forearm while I drag him through the crowd, slithering between bodies, so I don't lose him.
"Allie, what the hell," he harshly whispers. "What are you doing?"
I ignore the way he snaps at me and try to enjoy this. "Look," I point.
I have always loved art. I was a gifted child, and I've always been great with numbers and patterns. I firmly believe that synchronicities reveal the deep psychological process of humans and the way the brain operates. That's why I respect artists so profoundly. Their art almost always indicates some type of pattern. Some patterns in the art are even found in nature, and the design in this painting is the very definition of beauty.
The golden ratio and the Fibonacci sequence
I can't help but smile up at Harry. "It's beautiful, isn't it?
"Not really," Harry grumbles, not looking the least bit interested. "It's just a wave. What's so special about the ocean?"
"Well, this painting is of an ocean wave forming a spiral wave." Harry eyes the painting hard, and I laugh at how he wrinkles his nose in deep, though. "Give it time," I say. "It'll grow on you."
"You sound convinced."
"Because I know I'm right," I pipe up with a beaming smile. This painting is beautiful, without a doubt. If Harry just gives it time, I know he'll love it as much as I do.
"Ah," Harry says mockingly. "Don't tell me you happen to critique art in your free time."
I laugh softly and look back to the painting, my eyes scanning over every tiny detail. I can't tell if the pieces I admire the most are intentional or not but, regardless, I can't look away. "No, no, I just know a pattern when I see it," I point to the price tag. "That pattern is probably why this painting is selling for 1.5 million."
Now Harry looks confused. "Pattern? It's just the ocean. There are hundreds of paintings of the ocean."
"Well, yeah. You're technically right, but what probably separates this painting of the ocean aside from the hundreds of others is that this painting has the golden ratio and the Fibonacci sequence. Have you ever heard of those terms before?"
"No, I'm afraid I haven't." Harry breathes out. "God, I forgot you were a nerd."
I ignore his last comment because I can feel myself getting excited. Harry doesn't seem nearly as uptight as he did on the car ride here. "Well, it's naturally occurring in nature, and well, the brain loves patterns. It's how we determine beauty. This painting follows the Fibonacci sequence and therefore forms a golden ratio. It's pleasing to look at in every way. Our brains adore this pattern" I raise my hand and, with my pointer finger, traced over the spiral of the wave. "It's right here. See?"
I look back at Harry, and he takes a moment. I appreciate how he sits back and engages with the painting. It's almost cute, the way he tries to concentrate and see the things I can see. Ultimately, he shakes his head. "Nope. I still think it's ugly."
My smile drops. Of course, you do. I blow out a raspberry as he kills my excitement with just one sentence. "You're no fun, Harry."
"I'm going to go get some champagne. I'll be right back."
I blink a few times, caught off guard with his statement. "O-oh. Okay." Harry barely lets me finish before he abrupt turns and walks to the bar.
"That was painful to watch."
I throw my head back and hold back an irritated groan. "Didn't I tell you to shut up, Niall?"
"Ow- stop hitting me, Louis!"
This is going to be a long night, isn't it?
"Harry is being a dick to everyone tonight, Allie. Just ignore it." Louis says a lot more gently. "So is Niall."
Well, he's not wrong.
"What are you talking about? " Niall scoffs. "I'm an angel."
"Niall, I'm laughing so hard right now. Can you hear it? Me laughing?" No, I bet you can't, asshole. I roll my eyes at his unwarranted commentary.
Louis thinks my dry sarcasm is funny, at least. See? I knew I liked him for a reason.
"Any sign of the Curator?" Harry's voice cuts in, surprising me. I turn around and look over at him through the mass of exquisitely dressed critics. He's over at the bar, his eyes scanning the crowd. His eyes find me quickly, and he speaks into the mic. "Make it more obvious, why don't you?"
Shit. Blushing with embarrassment, I snap around and look away from Harry. "Ha... Sorry."
"Are you hear, alone?"
I jump so severely that I bump into a lady behind me that I apologize profusely. Good going, Allie. Completely caught off guard, I turn around wide-eyed to see a man in a dark, two-piece suit. He laughs a bit, and I don't blame him. I probably look so stupid right now.
"A-Are you talking to me?"
The man's laugh is heavenly. "Yes, I'm talking to you."
"Oh uh, I came with a friend. He left, though," I laugh a bit awkwardly.
"I see you're looking at the Elated Attraction," he gestures to the painting. "Beautiful, isn't it?"
I light up. He must have seen that I was looking at the painting and wanted to make conversation. "It really is! I-It's so simple, but did you notice the Fibonacci sequence-"
"And the golden ratio?" Again, the man lets out a charming laugh. He looks at me almost in disbelief. "You're smart and beautiful. How lucky am I?"
Oh.
Ooooooh.
Is this how rich people flirt?
I laugh a bit bashfully. How could I not? This man looks like a Greek God. A shiny Rolex, expensive smelling cologne, blonde prince charming hair, a beautiful smile, and sexy voice.
Like I said – a Greek God.
Or maybe this is Brad Pitt's twin brother.
Either way, I'm a little shy, nervous, and intimidated. Why would he ever look at someone like me? I can't help it; I giggle. That's just what I do when I'm nervous, and I absolutely hate it—especially when I end up snorting.
Prince Charming can't seem to get enough of me, though. "And you're adorable. Anything else I should know about?"
"Allie, you got no game, brooo."
"Shut the hell up, Niall," I clap back.
Prince charming blinks, looking a little confused. Great, now I'm beautiful, adorable, intelligent, and weird. "Oh uh, I said I like your watch!"
"Oh, this old thing?" He looks down at the golden Rolex. "Yeah, I got this at an auction over in Europe two years ago."
For a moment, I pause because I realize the action he's most likely speaking of is the one Harry is going to in Germany – the auction taking place at the Bode Museum.
"Oh?" I smile as perfectly as I can. "I've always wanted to go to Europe. What part did you go to?"
"Germany," the man says. "It's beautiful. If you ever have the chance, you should go."
Then, it dawns on me that everyone here is most likely connected to the Curator that Harry is after. It also dawns on me that everyone here is also connected to the black market in some way, shape, or form.
Stealing those files suddenly seems a lot more dangerous than I thought it would be.
"What's going on over here?" Harry unexpectedly walks over to me, handing me a glass of champagne.
"Harry?" Prince charming can't believe his eyes. "Wow, it's been so long!"
"It's nice to see you again, James." Harry is off again; he's far too uptight. James doesn't seem to realize it, but I fall silent. Harry isn't giving off good vibes right now – not at all.
"This is your friend that you came with?" James asks me, astonished. "Harry and I go way back."
"Yeah, we do," Harry's grin is forced. Too forced. "We'll have to catch up sometime. For now, though, I think we're going to keep walking around."
Before Harry can drag me away, James asks. "Oh, I never got your name."
"Marie," Harry finally snaps out. "Her name is Marie, and we're leaving." His patience is running thin, and James finally seems to catch on.
And just like that, Harry is dragging me away by my wrist that he squeezes far too tightly. "Harry, stop. You're kind of hurting me-"
"What the fuck were you doing talking to him?"
I blink, confused, and take a few steps back when Harry abruptly turns to face me, throwing my wrist away from his grip. "I-I was just making conversation. He started talking to me. I was just being nice." I hold my wrist to my chest. "What's wrong with you?"
"So you entertained him?"
"Yes, because I was being nice! Sorry I don't tell everyone who approaches me to fuck off as you do."
"Guys, c'mon, stay focused," comes Niall's voice from my earpiece. "Not the time nor place for this."
"If I didn't owe you this, Harry, I would have already left," I clap back. I've tried being civil; I've tried putting him in a better mood. I've tried making him smile and laugh, but he's been insulting me since he picked me up from my house. I'm over it.
I swear he's the only one who gets me this pissed off.
"Rosaline-"
"No!" I cut him off. "I'm done. Let's get this over with so I can fucking go home."
Harry doesn't back down. He always needs the last fucking word, doesn't he? "You're the one that's done?" He laughs sardonically. "We're here for business, and here you are flirting with every man who pays the slightest bit of attention to you!"
"Harry," I say his name in a warning he doesn't heed.
"God, you're insufferable, Rosaline – a waste of fucking space!"
I can't take it out – the dagger Harry lodged oh so carefully in the center of my chest. What the fuck did I ever do to him to deserve this?
"I already know that," my voice fractures. "I don't need you to remind me." His words hurt more than I expected, and I can't help but grow frustrated with myself. He shouldn't have this power over me, but he does.
The thing I've noticed about Harry is when he's mad, and he goes for the kill. He always says the things he knows will hurt the most.
It hurts so much, yet all I can do is laugh. My eyes even begin to burn. "It's always two steps forward, three steps back with you, Harry," I mutter out the realization.
I clench my jaw, purse my lips hard and look away. I refuse to cry in front of him. I refuse. The painting in front of me was much more excellent to look at than an angry Harry, anyway. I try to end the conversation there, but Harry doesn't stop.
"Allie-"
Something in me snaps. "Oh, so it's Allie now?"
"I just, fuck," he runs a stressed hand down his face. "I didn't mean what I said. You know-"
"Know what, Harry?" He gets me so angry because he's always fucking hurting me. "Are you sorry? Oh wait, you don't do sorry's, remember? You don't believe in them. They're useless, right? That is what you told me anyway. And you know what, after everything you've put me through, a sorry would be nice. You ruined my fucking life, and here I am, helping you!" I should stop. I hate violence, I hate loud voices, and I hate arguments, but I'm far too angry to stop my rant. "I don't ask for much, Harry, but I'm asking for respect. Why is it so hard for you to respect me?"
When he doesn't answer, I get even angrier, and I didn't think that was possible. "Fuck you, Harry. I know nothing about you, but you know so much about me and my pathetic life. And you use that to your advantage to hurt me. I thought there was a part of you, a part of you that wasn't so fucked up – a part of you that was good – but I was wrong. You're fucking horrible."
Harry is quiet for a moment, and that's when I realize everyone around us had been snooping in on our conversation. It's embarrassing, and I wish the earth would swallow me whole. "Well, that's where you went wrong," Harry mutters in a much softer voice than I had expected. "I told you before that I'm no good."
"Yeah," I laugh bitterly. "You were right about that. I should've listened to you."
Finally, he shuts up.
"Guys, the Curator is coming out from his office and heading down the stairs. You gotta get in there quickly," Niall interrupts.
"Allie," Harry begins. "Wait-"
I leave him standing there and disappear into the crowd. I can't talk to him right now. I just need to get this over with. "Which hallway am I going down, Niall?"
"...Are you okay?" Niall asks hesitantly.
I clench my jaw. "What do you think?"
"Harry's just emotional tonight. The Curator stole something very important from him, and he's been trying to get it back for years. He didn't mean any of that."
I chuckle because this situation is so fucking ironic. It's like the begging all over again. Harry is being a dick to me, while Niall is being somewhat civil. It's making my head spin, so I take a large gulp from the champagne in my hand. "Where am I going, Niall?" I ask again.
"Go up the stairs and take a left."
Smiling at the people I walk past, I gracefully make my way up the grand staircase but–for some reason– I can't resist the urge to turn around. Harry is standing right where I left him. He's staring up at me, looking... lost.
And for a moment, I soften because I have never once seen that look on Harry's face before.
I want to kiss it away – the frown on his pretty lips.
That thought catches me off guard, and my breath staggers in my chest.
I want to kiss Harry.
It's a horrible thought, and frankly, it only pisses me off when I remember everything he's said to me tonight.
You're insufferable.
You're a waste of fucking space.
Rosaline, Rosaline, Rosaline.
He torments me with that name, and he knows it.
It seems like he remembers everything that was said, too, because that infamous grimace of his returns.
"Which way did the Curator go, Niall?" Harry asks into the mic.
"He's in the next room over that's closed off from the rest of the party. Go straight and take a right but be careful. He's talking to a few men. They look like they work for him."
Harry nods firmly before turning briskly and disappearing, weaving through a sea of people. I turn around too, storming down the hallways Niall directs me to. "To your right," Niall cuts in. "His office is to your right."
"You're sure no one is in there?"
"Yup."
Trusting him, I try walking in but- "Fuck, it's locked."
"Oh shit. Do you think you're strong enough to kick down a door?"
My eyes roll skywards. "I have a better idea. One that's less messy." I laugh, taking out one of the bobby pins from my purse and snapping it in two.
I'm a little out of practice, but I manage to get it. "Ah, ha!" I grin triumphantly up to the camera at the edge of the hall, where I know Niall and Louis are watching over everything.
"Holy shit, Allie. You know how to lockpick?"
"Hiii Louis, and yes. I do."
"I'm surprised," Niall mumbles. "You don't seem like a girl who breaks the rules."
"Well, I am stealing so, I don't think I qualify for that good girl role you so graciously bestowed upon me."
Niall scoffs. "Yeah... I guess not."
Once I'm in the office, I let out a breath and wipe my sweaty hands on my dress. Right. I need to find those files. Taking long strides, I walk over to the mahogany desk and dig around in the draws for files. I don't see files, though. I see many odds and ends like crystals, small clay figures, pens, and- oh, I even found a gun.
I close that drawer immediately and move on. "Jeez, this office is a mess," I grumble, opening up the bottom drawer to the desk, but all I find is a bottle of lotion and a box of tissues. Then my eyes see the trash bin under the desk that so happens to be filled with used and crumpled tissues. "Oh ew!"
I slam the drawer shut. The files definitely aren't in there.
"What happened?" Louis asks, slightly startled.
"Nothing, nothing," I shake my head. "It's gross."
"What, did you find a cum stain or something?" Niall questions inquisitively.
"What? No..."
"Suspicious, used tissues?" Niall guesses next.
I look around. "Wait, how do you know? There aren't cameras in the office."
"I'm a guy. I know how guys work. Duh."
Louis seems pained when he speaks. "Mate, respectfully, shut the fuck up."
I sigh. Someone had to say it.
Next, I dig around in a file cabinet, my eyes quickly scanning over manilla dividers. When I find nothing, I go down to the next file cabinet. "Jesus, this man has a ridiculous amount of files."
"You might want to hurry. A man is walking up the stairs. It looks like he's heading your way," Louis cuts in.
"Holy crap, that man is a sasquatch!"
You are not helping, Niall.
"Shit," I curse to myself. "Fuck, fuck, fuck- wait!" With my nerves buzzing, I pull out a manila folder that had been listed as The Bode Museum Auction. "I think I found it!"
"Alright, hurry up and get out of there."
I quickly take out my phone and snap a picture of all of the things to be sold at this black-market auction, from taxidermy, ancient artifacts and old relics, jewelry, supercars, and so on.
"Allie, he's coming your way. Get out of there. Now."
Fumbling, I put everything back exactly the way I found it and rushed out the door, making sure to grab my glass of champagne on the way out. I lock the door behind me as well, panting a bit when I sway the door shut with a click.
"Three o'clock, Allie," Louis warns.
When I look to my right, I catch a glimpse of a man-
Holy shit, he's huge!
He's at least six foot five and two hundred and fifty pounds of pure muscle. Oh fuck, what do I do? Without thinking, I dramatically stumble over my own feet and hold my phone above my head with squinted eyes. Shit, I look so stupid.
"Ma'am, you're not supposed to be back here."
I turn around, acting surprised when I see him. "Oh, hello!" I laugh. "Sorry, I just-" I giggle a little obnoxiously. "I've been trying to get reception for like ever. I'm trying to call for a taxi because-"
"One too many?" The man grins a little.
I cringe and sway on my feet. "Is it that obvious?"
"Just a little bit." He nods. When he thinks I'm not paying attention, I catch him quite literally undressing me with his eyes. Instead of running away like I wanted to do or crossing my arms over my frame, I tilt my head and smile.
The man offers a bashful look when he looks at my face again. "Do you come to art shows often?"
"Nooo, sadly not, but I do happen to love and appreciate art very much."
"Ah, I see," the man is still smiling when he nods. "We had some good sales tonight, but the place is finally starting to die down. My shift is just about to end."
"Oh, you work here?"
"Yeah, I'm a bodyguard."
I know, I think to myself. I saw him looking at me when I was downstairs. Wait- is that why he's up here now? Did he follow me?
I don't like this, but it's obvious. This man wants me, and suddenly, the atmosphere is a bit suffocating. His smile isn't so kind anymore, but I'm supposed to be a clueless, drunk blonde, remember? I can't break my little act – it's far too early to do that.
However, maybe I could use his attraction to me to my advantage.
I won't let another man hurt me.
"Do you um," I grin a little sultry. "...Do you want me?"
My hand holding my glass of champagne squeezes so tightly I thought it would shatter in my hands. "How could I not?" The man's expression is much darker now.
I can't speak, not really, but I don't break my act. All I can do is fucking smile. But a smile isn't an answer, is it? I never said yes — I never told him it was okay for him to touch me.
It takes less than a second for his hands to be on me – grabbing, tugging, and pulling at my dress. He kisses my neck, and he pins me to a wall. I nearly gag when he tries kissing my lips. I turn my head to the side, but he doesn't seem to mind.
He's strong. Stronger than I could ever be. And, his needy hands don't seem like they're willing to let me walk away from this.
Dirty, I feel dirty.
I squeeze my eyes shut and try not to shut down. If I break now, he'll get away with hurting me, and I refuse to let that happen. Not again.
So, slowly, I reach down for my thigh that peaks out from the slit of my dress and reach for the holster Harry wrapped around my thigh. The knife is cold in my shaking hands.
I feel exposed and sick to my stomach when the man begins not so gently to touch my most intimate parts. He doesn't seem to care that I start shaking.
The knife slices through the man's flesh with little effort. The sharp metal digs deep and punctures his upper stomach, and it takes less than a second for me to feel warm blood spill on my hands.
I know the pain he's in.
A part of me, deep, deep down, doesn't feel sorry. That part of me is Rosaline, and I push her tendencies back for my own sake.
"You bitch!" I wasn't ready for him to grab me by my throat, but he did. He cuts off my airway with a scarily tiny amount of effort.
Choking, I struggle but manage to grab the knife that I lodged into him again and twist it as hard as I possibly can. I can feel his flesh shredding. His grip around my neck loosens. I take this opportunity to raise my arms above my head and smack down on the crease of his elbow. Finally, he's off me but, as he stumbles back, clutching at his stomach, I punch him right in the nose before bashing my champagne glass over the back of his head.
When he hunches over, he's more level with my height — just what I wanted. I swing again, this time punching him on the right crown of his head.
Fun fact — the temple is the softest part of the skull which means it's the most effective area to hit to produce a knockout.
So yes, the six-foot man goes slack before crashing to the floor completely unconscious.
Violence. I'll never be able to escape from it, will I?
"...holy shit Allie," Louis says breathlessly. Swallowing thickly, I look up and see one of the security cameras. I know Louis saw everything.
"Where's Harry?"
"Allie, just get out of there. You got the files, and Harry will be fine." Louis demands, but I shake my head.
"I-I'm not leaving without him."
"Listen, Niall joined Harry. They'll be fine, but you need to get out of there."
"Wait, is Harry hurt?"
"What? No, he just needed some backup, so Niall went in."
I don't feel like listening to Louis rants, so I take my earpiece off and start speed walking down the hall. I'll search this entire facility if I have to.
There's blood on my hands.
There's blood on my hands again. It isn't mine.
Fighting the flashbacks that my mind torments me with, I walk down the grand stairs, looking for Harry in haste. What if he's hurt? I'm not leaving here without him.
I blend into a crowd easily, invisible and unseen. A ghost, perhaps. That's always been something I've been good at – being invisible. I used to hate it, but it lets me escape for right now.
When I finally made it past the crowd of people inspecting the art, I disappeared down the hallway that I saw him walk down.
It's noticeably darker here, and this part of the building seems untouched and off-limits. I only take two steps before I see two men on the floor, similarly dressed to the man I stabbed upstairs. Their blood pools on the marble floor.
Harry went through here — I know it.
Under the muffle of voices from the main room where the Art Show is taking place, I can hear screams echoing down this hallway now. It makes my stomach churn because I know Harry is where all those screams are coming from.
Hell, he's probably the one making someone scream bloody murder.
This hallway seems to go on forever as I walk forward. My tunnel vision makes me stumble over my own two feet.
There's blood on my hands.
Louis is right. I should leave. I'm not- I'm not okay right now, and I have no idea what I'm going to see when I open that door.
I know Harry isn't a good man, but as I said earlier, I thought there was something in him that was good. I thought there was a part of him that wasn't so-
Dead.
"I'm sorry! Please let me go! I-I'll give you the ring back, I swear!"
The door is left open just a crack, but it's enough to allow me to see into the room. I was right — Harry is here, and he's standing before the Curator, who's bloodied and beaten and tied tightly to a chair.
Too much. This is too much for me.
"You see, that's just not gonna work," Harry hits the man right in the nose with the butt of his gun. I can hear the crack of bone even from where I stand. The blood pours out from his nostrils shortly after. "I don't like liars, Curator. You knew that."
"H-Harry, we were supposed to be business partners. C'mon, man, let me go! W-We can sort this out!
Niall is with Harry like Louis had said. I can't see him, but I can hear him laughing at the pathetic jumbles coming from the Curator.
"Business partners?" Harry says. "No, I think you're confused." Harry sits down in a chair he drags over, and sits right before the Curator. "I own you. You're not my business partner. And that's where you fucked up — thinking you were irreplaceable to me."
"The ring- it's at The Bode Museum!"
Harry nods. "Yeah, I figured that part out. I just wanted to handle you myself because — well — you made this personal for me."
He's going to torture this man, I realize.
I don't know why I do it – why I push open the door and call for Harry. I don't know why I'm even here I-
There's blood on my hands.
"Harry?"
When Harry looks at me, he seems beyond pissed. He looks like an animal – ruthless, cold, and aggressive. I'm not supposed to be here. I know that but-
"there's blood on my hands-"
I can't think or walk straight; I can barely form a coherent sentence, never mind a cohesive thought. All I know is that I might have killed a man. "I-I think I hurt someone- I" I start frantically wiping my hands on my black dress.
Off. I need to get the blood off.
"Allie..."
"I-I need to get this off, and we need to leave. I got the files but, I-I need to get the blood off-"
"Allie," Harry's large hands grab ahold of my wrist. "You're alright."
"B-But I-" When I begin shaking profoundly, Harry takes off his jacket and throws it over my shoulders.
"Shh, you're alright."
I don't hear what Harry says to Niall. I only listen to what Harry says when he gently calls my name, and his thumbs caress the skin of my wrist. "What happened?"
"I-I was getting the files-" I squeeze my eyes shut. I can still feel the knife sinking into the man's stomach. And, even though it was four years ago, I can still feel the knife plunging into my abdomen.
There's blood on my hands.
"He uh, he came out of nowhere, and I tried to get away but- I couldn't. I-I hurt him. I hurt him badly, Harry."
"Where did this happen?"
"Right outside the office." I can barely breathe by the time I push out that simple four-word sentence.
And suddenly, Harry lets go of me. He quickly advances towards the exit, and panic grips me to the point where my legs almost give out on me. "No, wait- please!" Without thinking, I reach for his arm and pull him back. When I stop him from leaving, Harry glances back at me. "Please don't leave me."
"Man, it's times like these where I really wish Liam were around," Niall sighs dejectedly before bringing the butt of his gun down harshly over the Curator's head. He's out cold.
Harry looks at me long and hard before he roughly pulls his arm away from my grasp. He looks at Niall. "Get her out of here."
Niall's eyes go wide. "What? Harry I-"
"And tell Louis to take the Curator."
For the first time tonight, Niall's lightheartedness dwindles, and his expression falls to a grave one. "...Harry-"
"I want the Curator. Alive." Harry hisses. I don't want to imagine what Harry will do to the Curator.
Offering Harry a stern look, Niall speaks into the mic. "Louis, we're taking the Curator."
It's silent for a moment before I hear a response. "I'm coming in."
Harry ignores my protest and disappears around the corner, going back to the room where the main show is taking place.
And just like I had done earlier to him, Harry leaves me standing there.
"W-Where is he going?"
Niall is silent for a second. "He's going upstairs." That's the only thing he manages to say before Louis speaks into the earpiece again.
"Coming in through the back entrance. The door is locked. Lemme in."
Niall walks across the long hallway, reaches the back entrance that had been blocked off, and carelessly pushes it open.
"Hello, Allie," Louis acknowledges me before walking right past me and making his way to the unconscious Curator. He sighs, looking at the unconscious man with an obviously broken nose. "Fuckin' idiot," he grumbles before pulling a flip lighter out of his pocket and carelessly throwing it at the fabric of the curtains that had been drawn closed. The flames catch quicker than I expected.
"Shit, Louis. Harry's going to lose his mind."
"Well, seeing as the plan went to shit, I don't think he'll mind much. Oh and, sorry 'bout this, Allie."
"Wha-"
The fire alarm sets off and – how lovely; the water sprinklers from the ceiling start pouring water everywhere, soaking me to the bone.
What the hell is happening?
"I'll take Allie. You deal with the Curator," Louis says pointedly to Niall.
Niall throws his hands up and exasperates. "Oh, c'mon! Harry told you to take the Curator!"
Louis flips Niall off before walking towards me.
"You owe me," Niall snarls, but Louis keeps on walking.
"C'mon, darling. There's a car waiting for us right outside the back door. Keep your head down and get in."
I don't have much choice, so, nodding, I follow Louis. "Where's Harry?"
"I wouldn't worry your pretty little head about that." Louis quips.
"What about Niall?"
"Niall is going to deal with the Curator. Me and you are getting out of here."
When we walk outside, I hold the jacket Harry had given me closer to my shivering body. Granted, it's wet, but I can't stand the thought of taking it off. Louis jogs around the other side of the car and holds the passenger door open for me.
"Sorry I got you wet," Louis says when he gets in the driver's seat. He doesn't waste time driving away. "I'm going to bring you back to Harry's Manhattan flat. That's where we plan on meeting back up," he tells me right before turning the heat on high.
"What is Harry going to do, the Curator, Louis?"
Louis suddenly falls a lot more severe and sullen. "Allie... don't ask questions you don't want the answers to." I don't know what to say to that. "Just know that whatever Harry does to that man? It's deserved."
-
A/N
Allies dress for those who like references <3