Long ass Chapter! Enjoy ;)
-Katexx
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Chapter 39
“Have you gone there?” Alfie asks, pointing at the store Hollister with his thumb as he walks backwards in front of me–his new obsession.
I wrinkle my nose at him. “Do you really think that I could work at Hollister? I mean, have you seen the people who work there?”
He chuckles. “It’s so dark inside, they won’t even notice you’re out of place.”
“Alf, shut up!” I roll my eyes.
Not that I can contradict him, because if you’ve ever been to Hollister, you know how dark it is in there. The store is flooded in darkness, small neon lights lighting up a couple of corners, just enough for people to see what they’re trying on. Other than that, the only light the store provides is from the employees almost shining of beauty; angels lit up after falling from the sky.
The thing is, to work at Hollister, you have to be fit, and I’m quite far from considering myself like so. Let’s say Harry’s home gym has been pretty much unused for the past few months.
“Fine, then,” he feigns offense and keeps on walking. “What about Topshop?”
I’ve already brought my résumé over at Topshop when I first applied for a job and unfortunately, they never contacted me. Now here I am, standing in front of the shop with a pile of résumés in my hands, trying to find the courage to go in and give my CV again.
Alfie waits outside while I go in, only to be greeted by a grumpy consultant who tells me that they aren’t looking for people at the moment. She takes my paper anyway, places it somewhere under her counter, and she turns her back to me with a sigh. I take it as my cue to leave.
“So?”
I shake my head. “Better keep going, I guess.”
“Have you thought about going to another restaurant, perhaps?” he proposes, giving me a thought that I’ve considered already a million times. “Or a little bit out of the city? You’d be harder to find this time ‘round.”
Now interested, I cock my head to the side. “That could be good,” I admit truthfully. In the middle of the city, it’s easier for fans and people to follow and find out where I work, and now with the car I don’t necessarily have to have Harry drive me to work. “Yeah, I could do that. I’ll give more here and then tomorrow we can drive further and find a couple of places.”
“I can’t tomorrow,” Alfie says, smacking his forehead with the palm of his hand. “Lewis has a dentist appointment and I promised I’d go. He’s terrified of the dentist.”
“Are you serious?” I laugh. “My dad’s like that. I used to go with him to the dentist because he’d end up not going, and we’d get a call from the secretary at the dentist’s office that he hadn’t gone to his appointment.”
Alfie rolls his eyes and chuckles. “I have to hold Lewis’ hand or else he might bite the dentist. It’s ridiculous. I once had to ask for a kid’s toy after because he was too angry.”
“I love those toys!” I squeal, grabbing his arm in emphasis and he jumps in surprise. “Oops, sorry. But my dentist used to have these little Flinstones figurines and after a couple of years I had the entire collection, they were so cute but I left them in Boston.”
“About that,” he starts, looking uncertain. “When are you going to see them again, your parents?”
At that, I shrug. “I’m supposed to visit Harry when he’s on tour in Boston, so I might spend a little bit of time with them too, and I figured I’d go for a while in the summer. Amanda has been begging me to come back, too, and I thought I’d take her to the One Direction show back home.”
I wouldn’t stay the entire summer in Boston. I was thinking about staying for two or three weeks since Harry would be home for the entire summer, and then I’d take Amanda with me to London for a little while like I did last year. She enjoyed her trip so much that she said she’d move here one day. I still wasn’t so acquainted with the city yet, but I see exactly what she meant.
Another option would be for Harry to come spend some time with me in Boston. Maybe not the duration of my entire trip, because he’d definitely get bored–I know I did–but a week wouldn’t kill him. We’ve already got a trip to Los Angeles planned since he owns a house there, which is something I should mention in my job interview… if I ever have one.
“Have you talked to Camilla?”
My other plan is to try to meet up with Camilla in LA, hoping she’ll be there since she usually goes home on summer vacations. After deactivating my Facebook account, I had to stop stalking her or Jensen, but I really hope they managed to fix things between them two. My only way of contacting either of them anymore is by email, but none of my attempts have been very successful. Ever.
“I still email her once in a while but it doesn’t result in much,” I say sadly, looking at my feet and fumbling with my pile of papers. “I really doubt she’ll ever talk to me again.”
“That’s a shame.”
“Yeah…” A comfortable silence settles while I try another store, but then I come up with a brilliant idea. “Hey, Alf? Since this isn’t working, how about you come with me somewhere?” With a confused look, he frowns and motions for me to go on. “I want to get a tattoo.”
His eyes literally pop out of their orbit, probably because he hasn’t seen the one I already have and also because I know he’s against tattoos, which I find slightly ridiculous since Lewis practically has a full sleeve of drawings and colors. “Elena, are you insane?” he asks more matter-of-factly than it was meant to be. “I mean, are you doing this for Harry?”
“What?” I try feigning innocence, looking surprised and all. I bite my bottom lip when he examines my face, but I manage to fool him. I think. “I’ve been thinking about getting a small heart on my wrist, nothing big.”
“Elena…”
I take his hand and hold it in both of mine. “Please? Please please please?”
Alfie rolls his head back and grunts. “Ugh, fine. But if Harry tries to find someone to shout at, I had nothing to do with it. The lad is scary.”
“He tries to be but he just looks like a broken little puppy.”
A few months ago, I would’ve said the opposite. Harry scared the hell out of me back then because he looked terrifying when I didn’t know who he was. Now that I do know him, however, his scary façade is like a shield so he doesn’t get hurt. And under that shield is a broken little puppy trying to stand up after being kicked back down several times.
What breaks my heart even more is that every time I offer my hand, he refuses and tries to stand up on his own. But a broken puppy can only do so much alone…
Twenty minutes later, we find ourselves driving in front of the tattoo parlor Harry and I went to for his own version of a heart. The area is a lot more familiar now that I’ve taken the bus here. The only challenge is to find a parking place, so we drive around for a couple of minutes; the place where Harry had parked is already taken.
Alfie slowly walks behind me once we’ve parked behind a small building across the street. He grunts and whines and really doesn’t stop, but I ignore him and walk faster. By the time I reach the door, he’s a couple of feet in the back so I wait for him to go in.
For a moment, Alfie’s eyes travel from the shiny tattoo parlor sign to back the door, as though the signs are in Chinese. He seems to mentally analyze every move, from opening the door to finally walking inside the rubbing alcohol-smelling place. If anyone wonders if the place is well sanitized, the odor should be the answer.
“Hello,” the girl at the front desk greets us excitedly, her eyes wide, and piercings all over her face. “How are you today? Do you have an appointment?”
I shake my head. “I was wondering if Tom is available? It should only take about fifteen minutes.” I calculate this from the time it took to make my other tattoo, and also from the time it took to make Harry’s heart. A good fifteen minutes should be more than enough to draw a tiny filled-in heart.
Alfie stands still beside me, completely silent as the secretary motions for us to wait a minute. She disappears in the back room and I give two thumbs up at Alfie, to which he replies with a dramatic eye roll and a heavy sigh. I stick my tongue out at him very maturely.
The bleached blond girl returns with Tom behind her and his face lights up. “Elena! I was wondering when I’d see you next. Got rid of that wanker of a boyfriend?”
Though normally this would be an insult, when it concerns Harry it’s usually said affectively by whoever calls him a wanker. So I smile. “Temporarily.” I hear Alfie grunt by my side and I elbow him in the ribs. “Are you free for that small heart?”
“Should get a lottery ticket, love, ‘cause today’s your lucky day,” he winks. “Is your little friend coming with us in the back, or is he scared of blood?”
Alfie’s face pales. “I think I might stay here, if you don’t mind.”
I shake my head and smile at him, only to watch as he sits down and starts a very interesting conversation with the secretary about how much he likes her tattoos, when I know for a fact that he really hates them. His politeness is heart wrenching sometimes.
Tom walks in front of me and leads us to the back room, the same one I was in when Harry got his tattoo. While I sit on the rolling chair, he starts fixing his gun silently, pouring black ink in a white pot and changing his gloves a couple of times in the process.
“What finally made you decide to come? Have you discussed it with Harry?”
“No, I haven’t.” I don’t see why I would have to discuss it with Harry first. It has already been established that he doesn’t want me to get this tattoo, and it has also been established that I’ll be getting it anyway. Warning Harry beforehand would just make him angry for nothing. “If he gets mad, then he’ll get mad. And it won’t last long because he really gets mad because he thinks he has to, and then he realizes that it won’t change anything.”
Tom nods as he removes his gloves and picks up his portfolio. “I have a couple of hearts already drawn; you can just pick one of those and the size.”
The pages he hands me from the portfolio are filled with hearts of all forms and sizes, from longer tails to rounder tops, but in the end they’re all hearts. I pick a classic, short sharp tail and a very rounded top about half the size of a penny and completely filled in. The variation of the one with simply the outline is also beautiful, but since it is in the wrist and wrist tattoos tend to lose a lot of ink in the first few days, especially in a such used articulation that is the wrist, I decide on the filled in one to make it last longer.
At least that’s what Tom explains to me as he photocopies it with purple ink and copies it on my wrist. Luckily, the first attempt at placing it is the exact place I want it.
“Reckon the boy is gonna be angry?”
I resist the urge to be rude and tell him to please stop mentioning Harry, because this has absolutely nothing to do with him. Why does Tom think Harry is so controlling? Well… “That’s his problem,” I finally say firmly, hoping it ends the conversation at that.
And it does. Tom applies a tiny layer of ointment on my wrist and roars his gun to life. As soon as the needle stings my skin, I almost jump in pure ecstasy. It’s the type of stinging that you can easily get used to, as if the ink being dropped inside your skin is a drug that gets you addicted. The only challenge is to hold my arm in the right angle without getting it completely numb. Clearly this isn’t the most comfortable position.
Tom switches the small needle he used to contour the heart to four needles lined up, which makes the filling a lot easier and faster. Within five minutes, the entire tattoo is done and covered in extra ink and blood. He wipes it down with a paper towel and applies another layer of ointment–which, by the way, is only Vaseline–and after removing his gloves, he wraps my wrist in saran wrap.
“You’re all done,” he smiles as I examine the tattoo under the clear cover. The heart is perfectly shaped, completely filled in and despite the smallness of it, it’s absolutely adorable.
“Thank you so much,” I squeal and follow him to the front.
Alfie doesn’t move from his seat, legs crossed as he reads a fashion magazine while I proceed to pay Tom. “I bloody hope this is not costing me my life,” Tom chuckles and to be honest, I can’t help but chuckle with him. Simply because it might indeed be costing him his life, but I’ll only find out later when Harry sees the tattoo on my wrist.
“Don’t worry, it’ll cost mine first,” I promise him with a wink. “Anyway, thanks again, and please, next time Harry wants a crazy tattoo, suggest something else? Anything, really, except body parts. Thank you.”
“I’ll try,” Tom laughs out loud, clutching his stomach. The secretary lets out a snort, too, and I assume she knows who I’m taking about. “The lad is stubborn. When he wants something, he’ll get it.”
Inwardly, I roll my eyes at the irony. “Don’t I know it…”
Alfie finally rises from the chair, delicately placing the magazine aside. “Ready?” I give him a nod. “Well, Tanya, it was a pleasure meeting you. Hopefully I’ll see you again, and give me a ring if you ever open up that hair shop of yours. I need a little trim.”
The secretary giggles. “Jesus, I love you. Don’t worry, you’ll be my first customer.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Thanks, love,” Alfie says, shaking hands with Tanya. He hesitates before extending a hand to Tom, and then very quickly retracts it and dips it in his pocket nervously. “Big tattooed man. I don’t think I’ll ever see you again but it was a pleasure.”
Tom’s laugh echoes until we’ve exited the small shop, emerging onto the sidewalk. Alfie walks beside me silently, kicking a rock with the toe of his shoe that he eventually loses in a puddle of water soon before we reach the car.
“What is the next thing you’re going to make me do, now?” Alfie mumbles. “Or are you done being a rebel for the day?”
I frown at him but I don’t comment. There are other things on my mind. “What about a haircut?”
He raises an eyebrow in my direction. “Are you serious? Now?”
My hair has been getting long. The nice shoulder cut hair that I was rocking has now grown to a past-shoulder cut, slightly disheveled with a little bit of split ends in the length, and the bangs that I used to love have now become the most annoying thing in the world. I’ve brushed them to the side, pinned the back, braided them, but they’re still too square to do anything really nice with it.
I could really use a haircut. “Come on, Alf! We’re already out and you said you had nothing to do this afternoon. You used to love getting scalp massages while I got my hair done.”
At the mention of a scalp massage, his face lights up. He watches me skeptically and slowly parts his lips to speak up. “Can we go to that place where they use the banana scented oil for the massage? It made my hair smell good for like a whole month.”
“Of course we can go to the stupid place that use banana scented oil,” I agree with a sarcastic eye roll. “It’s where I got my bangs done, so I might as well go back there.”
This time, Alfie is a lot happier than he was before when we get to the car and start driving across town.
Over the past few months, I’ve gotten several different haircuts, usually just trims and streaks, but the shoulder-length cut and the bangs was the most drastic of them all. Alfie had been with me that day, and at the time he didn’t exactly know why I was getting such a change, but he had enjoyed coming along the ride.
Hoping there’ll be place at the salon for both of us, we park behind the building and walk to the front. Nothing has changed since last time and the powerful scent of hairspray and chemicals welcomes us. I still don’t know why they don’t spray some of the banana scented oil all over the place, it’d be slightly more welcoming and attractive. I must agree with Alfie on that one–the oil smells damn good.
“Good afternoon,” the girl greets us. She’s got bleached hair with pink strands, tattoos all over her arms and a very strange piercing on the swell of her boob that’s very apparent from the low cut she’s wearing. “Do you have an appointment?”
Again, just like at the tattoo parlor, we shake our heads. “She wants a haircut, I want the special banana scented oil and a great scalp massage. My hair’s been slightly dry lately,” Alfie tells her, skipping in front of me and almost bending over her desk.
The girl’s eyes roam over the appointment list but I can already see a couple of hairdressers chatting over at their chairs and fixing their hair.
The salon itself is incredible from the inside. It looks like nothing from the outside–a simple classic hair salon with a glass door holding the sign Open and Closed–but from the inside, colorful posters of hairstyles cover the walls, colored bottles of hair dyes–every color you can imagine–sit on wooden shelves, the whole thing looking very rustic but in a cool way.
“I have Tatiana and Jamie that could take you right now, if you want! What is gonna be, a haircut and a scalp treatment?”
“Scalp treatment, scalp massage, they’re the same. Right?” Alfie asks to make sure, looking unconvinced.
The girl winks. “Yes, love. You may put your coats in this closet,” she points at the two large doors behind us, “and I’ll send your stylists right away.”
But we barely have time to put our coats away and to remove our wet shoes that a black haired girl takes Alfie away to the back while a lovely girl with blue and purple hair offers her hand for me to shake. “I’m Jamie, I’ll be your stylist for the day.”
She leads me to her chair and I notice the amount of hair products scattered all over the small desk in front of me as I sit down. Then again, she must know what she’s talking about with the crazy, yet incredible hair she has.
While she starts playing in my hair, running her fingers through it and examining the ends, I look around the store to spot Alfie in the back getting his hair washed. “You have beautiful hair,” Jamie brings me back to reality and I smile at her through the mirror. “Do you know what you want?”
“I’d like to keep the length, but I want layers and if you could do anything with my bangs, like push them to the side or something.” She laughs, running her hand through them as she tries to think of what she could do. “The rest is up to you.”
“Would you be willing to bleach it? Platinum blond would really be your color. And not a brassy blond, but really ashy.”
And in the heat of the moment, I nod. “Do what the hell you want, as long as you think it suits me.”
Two hours later, the car drive is completely quiet, aside from the music playing on the radio, and I feel almost as if Alfie refuses to even look at me. He watches the buildings pass by through the window, a drizzly rain hitting the glass very mildly, making the city gloomy once again. It hasn’t even snowed yet in London, other than a few times where the rain transformed into very light snow at night, but it melted as soon as it hit the asphalt. I embrace the weather here; from what I’ve seen on the weather network, Boston has gone through one too many snow storms already.
Lewis’ car is parked on the street when we arrive at Alfie’s apartment. I park behind him and turn my body to the side, only to find Alfie still avoiding my gaze. “Did I do something wrong?” Calmly, he shakes his head. “Then what is it?”
With a deep sigh, he shrugs. “Was this tattoo for you or for Harry? And that whole hair thing. You don’t even look like yourself. I want you to be completely honest with me, El.”
But I’ve never felt better before. I glance at myself in the rear view mirror, my bangs pushed to the side like a bouncy fringe, the rest of my hair falling in cascades over my shoulders with the layers giving it so much more texture compared to the flatness it usually held. And yes, the color is a change, but the ashy platinum blond, almost white, makes the eyeliner rimming my eyes pop out.
“In the start, the tattoo was indeed for Harry,” I admit shamelessly, because the thing is, I have nothing to me ashamed of. “But I got it for me. For the love I have for him, for you, for my friends and for my parents. It’s just a significant little thing that will remind me every day of all the people I love.”
Alfie nods understandingly. “And the hair?”
“Jesus,” I laugh, scrunching my nose and shaking my hair a little to show off. “Don’t you see how freaking gorgeous it is? I’ve never had my hair like that before. I finally look fashionable.”
With a smile, he confirms. “So it really is not this defiant part of you that always wants to do whatever it is that Harry doesn’t want you to?”
I totally understand why he would think that; ever since Harry came back I have been different, always trying to be defiant whenever Harry sets a new rule or says something completely stupid. That tends to happen often, because well, he’s Harry. “He’s gonne be angry, but I’ll deal with the consequences later. This, I did it for myself and not for anyone else.”
“Then I’m sorry I judged when I shouldn’t have,” he apologizes politely, squeezing my hand in his. “You’ll always be my best friend, El. Even when I wasn’t talking to you, I hated it and I missed you.”
“I missed you, too,” I coo and reach over the console to hug him, as awkward as those hugs can be. “I really love Harry, Alf. I know he sounds like an asshole sometimes, or most of the time, but it’s just because I tend to rant more when he’s being a dick than when he’s being nice. Just yesterday he took such good care of me because I got my period and I felt–”
“The P word!” he shouts as he covers his ears with his hands, grimacing and closing his eyes in the process. “Jesus, sorry. You may continue, just don’t mention the P word, thank you very much.”
With a small giggle, I roll my eyes. “Get out of my car before I push you out and hit you with it.”
He raises his hands in surrender and unbuckles his seatbelt. “Alright, alright. I love you babe, I’ll talk to you later?”
“You can bet on it. Bye!”
He blows me a kiss as he jumps out of the car, slamming the door carefully and walking fast under the rain. I wait until he’s well inside the house before driving away.
If I hated driving, I’d probably get sick of driving around London half of the day. Most of what I do is driving around for friends and for school, since I can barely go one place without getting recognized. Alfie and I smartly decided to go give my résumés during school hours, which gladly resulted in no one recognizing me. Any other time of the day I would’ve been asked questions, and that fucking sucks.
We were also lucky since usually on Fridays, the mall overflows with people. Unfortunately, however, it also reminds me that I have exactly one week left with Harry. Seven days. It almost feels like I’m in The Ring and I’m watching the incredible video of what my life has been like for the past few days, and as soon as the video ends my phone rings with a voice saying, “Seven days.” And not exactly seven days since Harry leaves on Friday morning, so basically six and a half days.
And I’m not ready at all to be alone again.
I call mom on the way home just to chat up a bit; my long-distance minutes having not been used much this month, I figure that a small update call wouldn’t hurt my bank account. Obviously, however, as it is currently four o’clock in the afternoon here and eleven o’clock in the morning there, mom is probably not on lunch yet. My assumptions are confirmed when the answering machine takes my call instead of my mom’s actual voice.
”Hi mom. Just calling to catch up, I guess you’re at work so call me later. Have a good day, love you.”
I still haven’t told my parents that I got fired from my job, and to be honest I don’t plan on telling them until I find a new job. I refuse to depend on Harry but if I were to tell my parents, they’d do everything to get me back to America and it’d end up in an ugly fight. I think they’d actually both have a heart attack if I were to finally tell them that I don’t plan on going back anytime soon, and certainly not until I graduate school.
Traffic starts picking up at this time and it takes me forever to go back across the city. I even drive close to Liam’s apartment, but at this time he’s probably at the studio. Harry was meeting up with the boys again today, and since he left before I did, I haven’t sent him a single text message not to get him worried about going out. I knew I wouldn’t have any problem, so what he doesn’t know won’t hurt.
However, today again I’m welcomed with another surprise of Harry’s car being in the driveway when I go in. Not only his, though, but several others. I frown at the amount of vehicles; I wasn’t informed that Harry was expecting anyone, but then again it’s his house, he can do what the hell he wants.
“I don’t really know,” I hear Harry’s faint voice from the living room, beer bottles clinging together and laughter from different people, females and males.
“When do you ever know anything?” Nick Grimshaw’s distinct radio host voice chirps back at Harry. “Oh, hi. I’m Harry, I’m from Cheshire and my bandana is too tight, ha ha ha,” he mocks in a deep, slow voice, barely articulating the words. I snort to myself as I remove my shoes.
Before venturing in the unknown of the living room, I roll my sweatshirt sleeves down to hide the freshly tattooed skin on my wrist. The hair, however, I can’t hide so much.
There aren’t as many people as it sounded. The living room is mainly occupied by Harry, Nick Grimshaw–who I’ve succeeded to recognize by voice–and a couple of other people I’ve never seen before. None of the other band members.
I appear in the doorway drawing way too much attention to myself. Everybody turns around, eyes glued to where I’m awkwardly frozen, but I don’t dare to look at Harry. “Hmm, hello,” I wave at everyone, now feeling very stupid in my university sweatshirt and holed skinny jeans.
“If it isn’t the lovely Elena,” Nick Grimshaw squeals as he jumps to his feet from the floor, not without almost knocking his beer all over the rug. “This is so exciting. I never thought I’d get to meet you.”
I stay still when he wraps his arms around me. “Well, it’s my pleasure?” I stutter in a question, not sure of what to say, really.
But then, “What the fuck have you done to your hair?” One of the girls quietly whisper Harry’s name, probably to calm him down, but he jumps off the sofa anyway and throws his beer on the floor. “And where the fuck were you?”
“I–I’m sorry,” but I’m not even sure what I say really makes sense. “I didn’t know you had people over today.” I try to stay as composed as possible, not letting the heat rush to my cheeks in front of all these people. Isn’t there something more interesting in this room but my face?
“Oh, because you can do what the hell you want, when the fuck you want, and I can’t even have friends over?” he snaps, spitting in my face as he stands just a few inches from me. “Why are you even here? Go back to your fucking freedom if you want it so bad.”
Because so many people are looking straight at me, I resist the urge to roll my eyes not to give a worst impression. What are they going to think of me, now? That I’m a rebel taking advantage of Harry? So instead, I hold my shaking hands up and quietly whisper, “Can you stop, Haz? I thought you were in a meeting, I didn’t know–”
Harry grabs my wrist aggressively and starts pulling me out of the room, away from the looks, but he stops abruptly when one or two of his fingers accidentally slide under the cuff of my sweatshirt. The saran wrap paper wrinkles under his touch, the plastic now pulling on the small hairs of my skin.
I freeze on the spot when he very slowly turns on his heels, eyes dark and hooded with anger. “Elena,” he warns, clearly not wanting to believe what I’ve done.
And before I can say anything, he pulls me inside the kitchen until we’re completely hidden from the others. I watch and roll my eyes nervously as he holds my arm out and pushes my sleeve back, causing a bunch of wrinkles in the fabric that certainly won’t go away unless I iron the entire shirt. I hadn’t planned on spending the evening doing such thing, but Harry never really cares about anything when he’s in an angry state of mind.
The saran wrap is roughly removed from my wrist, exposing the shiny inked heart on the thin skin of my wrist. I’m pretty sure he waxed some of my arm hair off along with the tape. “Fucking hell, Elena,” Harry hisses, dropping my arm and pulling at his hair instead. “What the hell did I tell you?”
“Can you please not make a scene, Harry? Please. Wait until everyone’s gone.” I wince at how bad my voice is quivering. I never thought I’d bet his nervous again around him.
“Then tell me why the hell you would go behind my back and do that,” he asks almost desperate, voice breathy and deep. All I can do is to give him a full body shrug. “I wanted to be with you if you got it.”
With a frown, I crook my head to the side. “What? You yelled the other day when I wanted to get it.”
“Who cares!” he almost screams, but then lowers his voice when he realizes that some people are sitting in the room just beside the kitchen, obviously eavesdropping. “God, I always yell at you for everything and you never listen anyway, so why would you listen to that?”
My eyes pop out of my scalp at his accusations. “But that’s exactly what I did,” I retort, hissing through my clenched teeth at the irony of the situation. “I did what you told me not to do. I didn’t get it while you were with me, and I got it behind your back. I thought it was obvious I’d do that! What the fuck, Haz?”
Harry turns around and rubs his hands over his face, pulling at the skin and massaging his temples to calm down a little. “I didn’t think you’d actually do it. I thought you were just talking to piss me off. If you were serious about it I would’ve gone with you.”
He finally sighs and continues. “I told you that if you still wanted it in a few months, I’d go with you.” I vaguely remember him saying this after yelling and complaining, so I can’t really argue on this one. “If you really wanted it I would’ve gone with you. You weren’t with me when I got the E on my chest, but I would’ve liked to be there when you got the heart.”
My eyes prickle with tears, but I pull my hand from him. “Then why couldn’t you just say so? Why did you have to scream at me and embarrass me in front of everyone instead of just asking politely why I got it without you?”
“Elena–”
“No!” I breathe, my bottom lip shaking as I hold the tears back. “You can never say what you think. You always have to make it sound so much worse than it is, and all you had to say is that you would’ve liked to be with me. Why do you have to make a scene out of it and be an asshole about it? Why can’t you just fucking use your words for once?” He looks like he’s about to start talking again, but I let out a strangled sob. “Jesus, Haz. Everything always has to be so dramatic with you, and look how it ends up.”
But before he can reply, a pastel blond head pops in the threshold, and Gemma clears her throat and waves. “Hey, we’re gonna go, alright? We’ll leave you two alone.”
“No, you don’t have to!” I say quickly, taking a deep breath to compose myself. “Please, don’t leave. I have to go do some homework anyway.”
“It’s okay, love,” she smiles, waving her hand to brush it off like it isn’t important. “We’ll all be going to the pub, anyway. Might as well leave now.”
Harry stands awkwardly in the middle of the room, his head going back and forth from Gemma and I as he rubs the back of his neck. “Then, take Harry with you. I’m sure he’d love to go.”
“I don’t–”
“Go,” I press, breathing heavily to gather the courage to say the next thing. “Because right now I don’t want you near me.”
His eyes widen temporarily, but the understanding of what he’s done catches up quickly. My plan isn’t to kick everyone out of Harry’s house, but now I’m embarrassed and I don’t even want to go to the other room and talk to his friends.
I never thought that meeting Harry’s best friends would go this way. All this time I’ve wanted to meet Nick Grimshaw, and maybe even thank him for pushing Harry to get better–or at least in the right direction (no pun intended)–I just feel like he had to ruin things again. I’m trying not to be difficult, but screaming at me for absolutely nothing–though I knew he was going to throw a fit but for different reasons–is unacceptable in public. I’ve forgiven him for worse things, but they were between us. Now it includes most of his friends who must think I’m some kind of fucked up girl who’s using Harry.
“What do you mean?” he asks dumbfounded, clearly confused.
With the words on the tip of my tongue, I wipe under my eyes with my fists and sniff. “I mean that I’m done with you for tonight, and we’ll talk tomorrow when I’m not exhausted and when you’re not being a dick.”
He lowers his eyes and looks guiltily at his feet, parting his lips a couple of times but retreats each time. Then quietly, a small mumble escapes his lips, and it doesn’t go unheard. “Your hair looks beautiful.”
I gulp harshly while Gemma rubs his back as he leaves the room, following the crowd outside without saying a word. I thought his sister would be angry at me for what I’ve just done, but she comes over and offers me a hug before following her friends.
When the door closes for the last time, I drop my head in my hands and let the tears come freely. Because as selfish as what I’ve just done can be, I’m done being his punching bag when he just needs to release anger.
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Chapter End Notes:
I want to know how you feel about Elena doing all these changes for Harry? Or do you actually believe that they're for herself?
And how do you feel about Elena kicking Harry out for the night? Does he deserve it?
By the way, I want to thank all of you for reading, You guys are absolutely incredible and I read every single comment you post, even if sometimes it takes a while for me to reply! I'd spend all my time reading what you have to say if I could, so thank you sooooo much!!!!!!
Don't forget to comment and Vote!!Thanks!:D
-Katexx