warning: this chapter needs to be rewritten. I'll work on it and as soon as I repost it, I'll let you know.
16.
●•Kirsten•●
He looked completely different from what I'd seen him the other couple of times we met; at the office he was dressed like a rich guy, looked like a rich guy, talked like a rich guy and acted like a rich guy, quite much alike his other two friends, that pissed the hell out of me doing basically nothing. I couldn't bear those people. Always trying to play the role of the best when they're clearly like everyone else.
At Angel's birthday party, though, he wasn't wearing his fancy and expensive clothes; instead, he was dressing like a clown, but still, he had that stupid grin on his face as if saying 'hey, I'm right here, I'm gonna stick my f—cking rich nose into your life and show you how superior I am." I'd asked the guy a simple ride and he already walked into my house as if he owned it; I knew Lana liked him, and it wasn't her fault. He was playing the nice one, but I knew he was just trying to feel better, telling himself he'd done a nice deed to another human being. They were all the same, always trying to look nice when they honestly did the things they did to 'buy a place in heaven', according to their beliefs. At least that's how it usually worked.
But now, whatever the reason was, he looked different. I mean, he still had that stupid grin on his face, but he couldn't quite annoy me this time. Probably the fact that he was actually dressed like a homeless guy – dirty and old sweater and pants; an old and pale blue beanie not so well placed on his curls and those worn out brown shoes –, or maybe that thing behind his features that seemed to be so much in pain. The guy was a total wreck.
Those truly dark bags under his eyes were pretty much enough for me to realize he wasn't going to act annoyingly tonight. I doubted he was even going to act somehow; he was nearly vegetating.
I still regretted walking towards Harry (I guess that's his name), but I also felt sorry for him. Instead of automatically spitting rude words at his face, I just stood there, examining his every move. He was now about to stand, but his face was so pale and his hands were slightly shaking, which made me think he was going to faint if he tried to do such a thing. He'd lose his balance, and I couldn't help the satisfied grin from forming on my lips as he proved me to be right, failing on his attempt to stand up, and falling back to the bench.
"What?" he asked me as he saw me giggling. "I'm not dressed like a clown anymore," he peered down, putting one of his hands on his head, looking for support. I could almost feel his migraine, and I knew how freaking awful it felt.
"Looks like someone is a mess," I said, looking on the pocket of my apron for the pills Lana had given me a few days ago and – for some unknown reason – walking towards him. Taking the empty space next to his, I watched as he tilted his head to the side and stared at me, taking his time while appreciating my presence – or at least I preferred to believe that was what he was appreciating.
"You're probably right," he admitted, and though he tried to sound flirty, I could hear the tiredness in his voice. "What do you have in there?" then he pointed with his head to the pills in my hands, and I offered him one.
"Might help you with the migraine, you know? Just take it," I didn't have to ask twice before he carefully took the pills from my hands and stared at it, way too thoughtful. "Just pointing out that the migraine won't go away by just staring at those," I pointed to the substance on his palm "You gotta actually put it in your mouth."
He looked at me again, a little glimpse of amusement playing on his green eyes (which I gotta admit, were quite hypnotizing eyes). He didn't smile, nor did he laugh, but by his look I could tell he was being sarcastic; and then I did allow myself to grin.
"Kinda know that," he winked then slightly shook his head from one side to the other. "Would you mind getting me a glass of water?"
Silently, I nodded my head and stood up, still not sure why I was doing that for him. Maybe I had such a good soul, and I couldn't bear seeing people nearly dead lying on a bench in front of a stripper club. That was definitely the height of loneliness and despair.
Within minutes, I was back outside, holding the glass of water right in front of his face, which now was turned to the floor again.
"Thanks," he stated, drinking the liquid inside the glass as if he hadn't done that in years. Handling me the recipient back, he looked confused at me. "Why you doing this? I mean, being nice."
"I like to help needy people," I said while shrugging "Just a woman blessed with a great soul, what can I do?" He laughed and I pretended to be offended. "What's that laugh supposed to mean?"
"Nothing, nothing..." Harry stopped laughing but he still kept a little smile on his lips. "A great soul who likes to help, but doesn't like to be helped?" he questioned, and once again, the rich guy's aura was back, getting to my nerves easily. Why did he insist on going further than what he should; why did he like to cross the boundaries? When one of our conversations had started right, there he was again, trying to subtly find out something about me.
"I don't need help," I said, roughly this time, and I could see how Harry straightened his back ever so slightly, the mischievous grin fading from his face.
"Alright, fine. I was just joking."
"Now you're not. And neither am I." He sat completely straight this time, clearly uncomfortable with my words. But I couldn't help it, I truly hated people who weren't able to take care of their own lives, and Harry had already showed me he was one of those people.
The silence stood still between us, uncomfortably, for long minutes; and yet, I was standing in front of him, not daring to walk away. It felt as if there was still something to be said, and I kept waiting for him to open his mouth again. But for a while, he didn't. He just looked at me, clearly too into his thoughts to do anything else.
As the wind blew harder, I shivered and cringed, wrapping my own arms around me as the hairs on it prickled. Still in silence, I walked back next to the curly guy and took the sit next to his back again, asking myself why I was still there after all.
"Aren't you cold wearing, well... Just this?" he pointed with his head to the exposed parts of my body, referring to the tight and short clothes I had to wear while working at there. Why, for God's sake, would he even mention that? I was pretty aware everyone noticed – it was hard not to – but if he had even a bit of decency he wouldn't do such a comment. Oh well, that guy was certainly not the ordinary kind of guy, was he?
"Don't people judge you for wearing, well... This?" I didn't bother to answer his question, just replying it with another one while sticking my finger out and pointing at his old clothes. "I mean, I bet they'd think you're homeless or something. At least I did." I admitted, and he laughed at my observation.
"That's quite rude of you. People don't really like to hear that they look like homeless."
"They don't like to hear that they look like whores either," I barely whispered, wanting to punch myself for making such a comment. Why had I even said that?
"I never said you looked like a whore." Harry mumbled as if he was offended, and then I finally turned my face to look at him; he did seem offended, indeed.
"It was implicit," was my answer, and he lifted one of the edges of his lips into a half-smile.
"That's all on you. I just think it's quite cold for someone to having so many parts exposed."
"I do have a boyfriend, you know? So you better stop looking at my legs. Don't you think I've noticed?" I said, smiling brightly as his cheeks started turning into a redder tone and this awkwardly uncomfortable laugh escaped from his mouth.
"I wasn't-," he then stopped himself, shaking his head slightly for what seemed to be the thousandth time that night. "Apparently you like to see things that aren't there, don't you?"
"Oh, it was definitely there. You're not good at disguising, I can tell. Besides, your cheeks are flushing, which, from what I've learnt, can only mean I'm right. Though this kind of reaction is more often on girls, you know? That says a lot about you, and I'm kinda forming some theories about your sexuality right now."
The air was filled with his truly amused laughter now, and I just couldn't guess what was so funny about what I'd said; I wasn't joking, to be honest. He did have a few smooth features that, if you looked carefully at them, would make him look like a girl. And that wasn't a compliment.
After he stopped laughing, we both just kept quiet, staring at the floor. My hand slipped from my crossed arms into the pocket of my apron again, grabbing my phone this time. I quickly ran my fingers over the screen, unlocking it so I could check if there were any new messages from Zach or Tyler. Unfortunately, I found myself sighing at the fact that my mailbox was completely empty. Maybe Zach had found a way to keep my boyfriend's mind busy, after all. I'd be totally grateful if he actually did it; that was a pretty hard task.
Thought it'd be easier for Zach to take care of Tyler when I wasn't around. By this week, it would definitely be much better for both of us if I just stayed away from him, as long as I could. I knew he was going to get drunk and lose control quite often, and that's why I was where I was, after all. Working until late so I didn't have to stay home randomly, doing nothing but think about what could be actually happening at the hospital. At least I was keeping me distracted from doing so while focusing on other things, making those kinds of thoughts not as continuous as they usually were.
I suddenly realized I was still sitting next to the curly guy, and he stared at me way too intently, paying attention to the lightened screen on my hands. He was so silent I had completely forgotten I was even close to a person.
When he noticed I was looking back at him, he smiled, playing with his intertwined fingers.
"I was going to ask you what was so interesting about that screen, but you'd probably shut me off again so I decided to just watch you. Hope that's ok," he said, clearly making me a criticize, but I ignored it.
"Actually, no, it's not. Don't stare at me too much, I'm not on TV to be watched."
He nodded carefully, as if taking in my words. Then he leaned his back against the bench, letting his head fall back with his face turned to the dark sky above us, and just then I realized he was still a mess. He was obviously deadly exhausted and I quite felt sorry for being so rude at him more than once. Not that I really cared about the rich guy's problems, nor did I care about his thoughts on me, but seeing someone so tired and apparently miserable made me think of all the children at the orphanage I usually visited; so sad, so lonely, so hopeless. And he kind of looked like them; that expression on his face was exactly the same, indeed.
When I was about to ask him why he was looking so terribly bad, a male voice came out of nowhere, screaming for him.
"Harry! Haz, you there?"
"Oh, sh—t. I guess he found me." He said, finally standing up.
"Your friend?"
"How do you know?" he confusedly asked, furrowing his eyebrows.
"He was at the front door trying to flirt with a few ladies," I chuckled, thinking about how childish that guy was. His brain couldn't be much big, to be honest.
"I knew it," I heard Harry slightly chuckling as well. "Well, I gotta go. Thanks for the pills," he honestly said this time, smiling at me before finally turning around and starting to walk away. I was still sitting when he suddenly stopped and looked at me again. "By the way, I work at the CD store downtown. If you ever need something, look for me. I could be of a huge help if you need to find a movie or an album."
"Oh, why, thanks. I'll keep that in mind though you won't ever see me there."
He nodded, still smiling, as if challenging me. I could almost hear his ego screaming "I know you'll show up there at some point". Too bad that little ego was wrong. I definitely wasn't; I hadn't visited a CD store since I moved in with Tyler, and I wasn't going to do that now.
"Oh, one last thing," he said, coming closer as the voice of his friend started getting louder, approaching us at each second.
"What now?"
"Will I get to know your name this time?" He questioned, his green eyes looking at me just like a dog would. God, how annoying was that?
I kept staring at him, watching as he tensed a bit and remained still, expectantly waiting for an answer. I wasn't planning on seeing him again, like, ever – and that seemed to be a good reason for not telling him anything about myself, though he already knew I was Leroy's sister – but he definitely wasn't thinking like I was.
After all, why not? It wasn't much of a deal anyway, and my name definitely wouldn't say much about me, I knew that.
As he kept looking at me, his body small movements showing he was about to give up, I finally said:
"Kirsten. It's Kirsten."
--
●•Author's Note•●
dedication goes to: I nearly died with your comments guys. No jokes. YOU ARE F*CKING AMAZING AND I WONT EVER GET TIRED OF SAYING I LOVE YOU. I REALLY DO I DON'T THINK YOU UNDERSTAND THAT. Your huge comments just made my year, and I'm really glad to see you're enjoying this so far. Ok, sorry about that, I'm just freaking out. Unfortunately, I can only dedicate a chapter to one person, and it goes to @CheesyCupcake this time simply 'coz she compared me to my favorite author ever (Nicholas f*cking perfect Sparks) I just- ugh! Loved all the comments though, I always do, okay?
note: I loved your theories about Harry's past. Sooner or later you'll find out why he's so damaged as well.
next update: Tuesday (June 11th, 2013)
Best comment on this one gets a dedication on next.