n. this chapter's a little wild so read the details and pay attention
"Tara."
The voice of my stolid, unfazed boyfriend cuts thickly through my slightly intense conversation with Keth. It seems Harry showed up at the worst moment, which is all too perfect. I turn and look him right in the eye, and he's too busy glowering in Keth's direction. He approaches us, wearing his scuffed up boots, black jeans, and a hoodie with the Uni's name on it.
I pretend to act oblivious. It's not as if I won't pester Harry about this until he explodes, so I might as well cut right to the chase. I feel slightly angry that I am in the exact position I'd want to avoid, annoyed with the circumstances and slightly with the people involved in them.
Turning right back to Keth, who is nervously staring at his sneakers, I send him a polite smile and say, "Thank you, Keth. For the flower. I'll see you around." I won't, most likely. It's just a harmless way to say goodbye.
Right when I feel Harry right behind me, I blindly grab his hand and pull him along with me in the other direction. "Tara," he calls, letting me pull him past the crowded hallway, past various doors until we're at the silence of the library. I ignore him up until the point where we reach our favorite little hidden corner, secured with tall bookshelves and the fancy carpet. When I've decided we're fine, I turn around, dropping his hand and giving him an expectant look. "How long were you watching him talk to me?" I ask.
"Right when he asked you on a fucking date," Harry remarks dryly. He then glances down at the rose in my hand. His eyebrows furrow and I can practically see the slight confusion and pent up annoyance. "He gave you that?"
I sigh irritably and ignore the question. "You have to tell me what the hell is your problem with that guy."
"My problem," Harry looks up at me, "Is that he's giving you flowers now." I watch him for some time, eyes narrowing and the irritation becomes more prominent on my face. He notices and exhales loudly through his nose, jaw clenched tightly. "His dad and my father don't like each other, never did," is all he says. But it's something.
"So you don't like him because your father didn't like his?" I question with an eyebrow raised.
"No, that's just...I don't like him because he's a fucking weirdo. His dad was a jackass, but that has nothing to do with it. He was around my house a lot. And when my mum was around...it just all felt strange," he explains, looking straight at me.
I furrow my eyebrows in confusion, attempting to understand where this is going. "Was he like...into your mom or --"
"I don't know what was going on with that guy," he asserts firmly. "But he's strange. I found pictures of my mum when he dropped his things in front of me. I freaked out and nearly beat the shit out of him."
My lips part. "What the hell?" I quietly interject. In that moment, a student walks by and glances in our direction before walking into another little corridor. Neither Harry and I are surprised and the tension continues.
He nods, seemingly still angry and annoyed even as he explains himself and proves to me he was right. He adds, "And when I used to associate with a lot of people, I knew this one girl. Violetta. She was my friend and she used to date him. At first I thought nothing of it but then she was showing up with bruises..and the rest is obvious. She left after -- got a scholarship to a great school. But my point is he's fucking strange. And I don't want him near you. He meddles a lot in my life. It's just..."
Moving forward close to him, I shake my head, placing my hands on the sides of his neck and rubbing my thumb gently against the outline of his jaw. My eyes peer up at him with my attempt to calm things down, swallowing everything he just said to me. "Okay, it's fine. I understand now. I already told him I'm with you, and if he doesn't back off I'll tell him to," I reassure softly.
He sighs and looks away from me finally, shutting his eyes and leaning forward until our foreheads touch. His arms reach behind me and hands grip the shelf on either sides of my head. I indulge in the moment of our peace and quiet, hearing his breathing and watching him relax, inhaling his cologne. My thumb traces gently over his lips and he removed one hand from the the shelf behind me and uses it to grip mine, bringing it to his mouth where he softly kisses my skin.
"I have a tendency to get mad really quickly," I admit to him. "I'm sorry."
He opens his eyes and his hand that holds mine is held against his chest. Looking down at me, he murmurs, "It's okay. I do, too. You don't have to apologize. I should have to explain myself for acting like that. I'm sorry as well."
I tilt my chin up to kiss him, but it was kept short and sweet. Repetitive kisses followed, and I felt myself smile a little against his lips. And I hate that. I hate that it's easy for him to put a ridiculous smile on my face. I pull away, biting my bottom lip. "Can I see you later?" I ask quietly, dreamy, longing eyes watching him.
His grin is almost smug when he nudges his nose against my cheek, and he lets go of my hand leaving mine on his chest. "Yes, of course." He holds my waist and kisses my left temple. "Stop looking at me like that. I'll be tempted to skip my exam."
I roll my eyes. "Grades before..." I pause, trying to find what rhymes. I'm lost for a second and Harry only watches me with a faint smile.
"Aids?"
My scoff is loud and I make sure he knows he sounded stupid. He laughs quietly and I try to avoid my prominent bright smile. "I think we can do better."
He doesn't even pause in thought. He leans closer until our lips brush against one another and mumbles, "We're in a library."
I pout. "It's okay we can whisper dirty talk."
Harry raises an eyebrow, highly amused. "You assumed I was going to dirty talk? Naughty girl," he accuses lowly, and then tightens his grip around me, pulling me flush against him. My back leans against the shelfs, and I sigh heavily when he runs his lips against the skin of my neck. I'm half convinced we'll get caught back here.
"Please don't do that," I whisper shakily, feeling his lips pucker against my skin, sucking gently and teasingly.
He hums huskily against my skin. "Mmm, no? What's wrong?" At the absence of his teasing, I can feel my heart accelerate a bit. The tips of his fingers trace the seams of my jeans as far as he can reach and back up. I embarrassingly let out a loud gasp when they skim across the zipper and just a few centimeters down. He kills me. I don't notice he's looking down at me until he speaks, voice octave lowered by his intentions. "You look so good," he compliments in a slight groan, staring down between us snd then up my chest. "So fucking good."
I bite down on my lip harshly, huffing out a heated breath. "We're in a library," I remind him.
"And?"
"You're too much like me," I breathe, shaking my head.
He grins and kisses me, but he purposely makes it short. "I'll come get you later," he suggests, and I nod, still a little flustered. We're just watching each other when he adds, "You teased me so much in that dress the other night. I'm only waiting for the perfect moment to show you why...you don't tease me."
"We'll see." I steady my voice.
Harry scoffs amusingly and kisses my cheek. "I'll see you later."
"In what would you prefer to see me? White or black lace?" I grin smugly.
"White," he answers casually, and then adds, "You little tease."
"You asked for it."
...
I decided that since I'm home alone I would walk around in my underwear and sing embarrassingly loudly along to an old 80s song. I've learned that I can only feed my boredom by dancing to loud music on my own and being able to dance as stupidly as I wish. My mom won't get home until a couple of hours so I'm fine to do as I wish.
The stereo blares out the music as I prepare myself a sandwich. I amusingly toss a slice of cheese on the bread, shaking my hips wildly until I hear a knock on the door. My head snaps in the direction of the door, frowning in confusion. Harry shouldn't be here until another hour and my mother surely wouldn't knock. I don't turn the music down and I quietly walk towards the door. My lips purse and I lean on the tips of my toes against the door, looking through the peep hole. My heart sinks to my chest when I see Cassiel, Deborah's boyfriend who Harry recently got into a heated fist fight with.
And it's obvious Harry did more damage. His left cheek and eye are bruised and his bottom lip is still swollen. Harry still has the faint bruises on his jaw, but clearly the purple reddish color on Cassiel's face let's me know he hasn't even begun to feel less pain. I'm taken aback and I step a couple of feet from the door, almost paranoid he knows I'm already at the door but he doesn't know.
I'm left rapidly searching my head for a reason as to why he's here and how the hell he knows my address. Besides his girlfriend, there is no one else who'd tell him where I live. Other than Charlie that is. I frown deeply as he knocks a second time, this one much louder and harder than before. He surely knows I'm in here because the music is playing loudly. I suddenly hate myself for choosing today to do this.
I get a little petrified as these thoughts occur to me. All I know is that I'm not going to open that door. He is potentially dangerous considering the way Harry left him, and Harry's my boyfriend -- there is no way he'd want to just chat with me.
Seconds pass as the music blares and I'm trying to move now. With tense shoulders and a fearful mind, I stalk over to the closet near the kitchen, grabbing the metal bat my mother usually keeps in there if something were to happen to us. This is a dangerous part of town. I wouldn't be caught dead walking home at night. Gulping, I hear a knock again. Harder and I know he's getting frustrated just as I'm getting more afraid. Heart in my throat, I lean against the wall between the kitchen and the living room and try to breathe.
The music continues to blare around the apartment. I squeeze tightly the metal bat, and I start to think to myself that maybe I'm overreacting. Maybe he just does want to talk. Or even yell at me. Or maybe he's looking for Harry. But I know I shouldn't open that door.
"Tara!" I hear him yell over the music and the door that separates him from me -- he's angry. I've never really spoken properly to Cassiel, and hearing him say my name in that way makes my stomach turn with nausea. "I know you're in there! I just want to fucking talk to you! I'm not gonna go and hurt you!"
I don't respond. Instead, I go for my phone that's tossed onto one of the sofas and contemplate on dialing the police. Just as I open the phone app, Cassiel shouts, "What happened with me and Harry has nothing to do with you! I just want to talk to you!" He repeats, and I wonder how easily he contradicts himself. If it has nothing to do with me, then what is there to discuss with me in particular? I keep reminding myself that he doesn't want to chat with me. He's got something else. And maybe I really am losing my shit, but I can't risk it.
My eyes widen when he grips the doorknob and it wiggles aggressively. I go to dial the police but Harry's name pops up on my phone. I thank the lord that I had my phone on silent or I would have drilled myself so deep into this ditch. Biting my lip and bouncing my leg nervously, I rush off into my bedroom where the door shuts and the music is softer in here.
"Harry," I shakily say.
He notices right away. "Tara...what's wrong?"
"Cassiel's at my door and I'm two seconds away from swinging a metal bat at him," I say, surprisingly and pathetically weak as fear makes me go insane. I am not one to deal with strong emotions of fear, and I start to lose my shit the second I feel threatened.
"Baby...what?"
"I'm gonna swing at him if he doesn't leave, Harry," I mutter.
It finally sets in on him. "What the fuck is he doing at your place? I'm on my way right now. Don't open the door."
"Okay," I mutter again, glad that I'm going to be able to stop myself from killing someone. And on the bright side I'd only have to stop Harry from doing it now.
"Stay on the phone with me, baby. Where are you?"
"In my room," I respond quietly. "He knows I'm here because there's loud music playing. He said that he just wants to talk.."
"You talked to him?!"
"No?! I'm not fucking stupid!" I shout at him, getting frustrated. "He just talked to me. Because he knows I'm in here."
"Okay, shh, keep your voice down. I'm a few minutes away," he says calmly. "He most likely won't get in. But if I see him at your door I will completely lose it."
"Don't," I beg. "Please don't do anything. It's just gonna make things worse. He really isn't worth it."
"Tara...he's at your fucking apartment because of me. You're scared out of your bloody fucking mind. I can just hear it in your voice. He is probably not worth it but right now I've had it. He has no fucking right," he angrily spat.
"Of course I'm scared! The first thing that popped into my head is that he wants to hurt me!" I hiss quietly. "I'm gonna dial the police --"
"Don't. I'm at your door right now. The fucker's gone," he mutters.
"That was fast." I rush out of my bedroom and place the metal bat back into the closet. I still hold the phone up to my ear as I walk towards the door. Just in case, I stand on the tips of my toes again and look through to see a pissed off Harry on the other side of my door.
"I probably could've brought the cops to you because I was speeding so much," he retorts. "Open the door, baby. It's just me."
I grab the doorknob and unlock the door, pulling it open. Harry hangs up his phone and places it on his pocket. He looks at me quickly before shutting the door behind him and dipping his head down to kiss my tear stained cheeks. I glower at him when he moves away and I reach around him to lock my door. He grips my hips and I realize I'm in my underwear and Marvel t-shirt. He urges me to look at him when he blocks my view of the door.
"Talk to me."
"What am I supposed to say?" I angrily remark. "I just hate people, today, alright? Everyone is just pissing me off. And I can't believe this just fucking happened."
"I don't like this," he looks around my apartment. "He's looking for you now? He's going to be looking nowhere soon after I do the same to his other eye."
"You won't do anything," I tell him firmly.
He looks down at me again, eyebrows furrowing deeply. "Are you joking? He could've fucking hurt you just to get back at me. I've got to make it clear that he stays the fuck away from you. He can try to hurt me. I don't care."
"Harry.."
"No!" He yells, startling me. He lets go of my hips and walks around me, running his hands through his hair. I turn around to face him, his hands tightly tucked into his hair as he looks to me. "Absolutely fucking not!...Tara, I've had to deal with people fucking my life up just because they want to. Because they can. I care about you so much, so fucking much and the fact that I can't be with you without that fucker already trying something...it just kills me."
"Harry..." I call softly, grimacing faintly at the things he said and the way his tired eyes look around desperately and his hands drop to his sides. I take a few steps towards him, placing my hands comfortingly on his chest, running my palms across his fabric covered skin. He inhales deeply and looks down at me again. "We'll be just fine, okay? He's obviously only doing this to get back at you. He's angry, too. We're gonna be fine. Everyone just needs to cool down. Including you. C'mon...," I grab his hand and send him a faint smile. "I was making sandwiches."
Eventually we eat sandwiches I silence because Harry rather not talk. He falls asleep in my bed, rolled up against me, head lying on my chest. We're wrapped in warm blankets and the scent of my favorite candle. I lovingly run my fingers through his soft hair, gazing down at his exhausted body tangled up with mine. His strong arms are wrapped around my waist, hugging me close and almost protectively in his sleep. I can't imagine what emotional pain he's managed to live through. I can't tell him he's overreacting because he's not. If I didn't know any better, I wouldn't be able to see the clear fear of losing me on his face.
My bedroom door opens and it startles me until I realize it's my mother. Messy hair tied into a bun. She's been home long enough to change into something comfortable. I hadn't even noticed her come in. She is going to say something but then she sees Harry adoringly coiled up into me. Her eyebrows raise and I whisper, "He's upset. Yell at me later about not warning you that we have guests."
She frowns. "Is it because his father? I didn't speak often with him, but he was a great man."
I sigh. "It's everything. I just want him to sleep."
She nods. "Okay. Well, I'll be in the living room."
When she's about to shut my door, I call, "Ma."
"Si?" She reopens the door slightly.
"We should move."
"Estoy de acuerdo," she mutters. I agree. "Why do you say you that today?"
I shrug. "I'll talk to you later."
"Okay, mija." Darling
n. thoughts? predictions?
Thanks for reading yall! 💖