A/N Soo this is the last chapter of Bad Meets Good! You can go on my profile and add BMG2 to your library once you're finished reading this.
Songs for the last chapter is "Wicked Games" by the Weeknd and "Do I Wanna Know" by The Artic Monkeys
Love, katie xx
The sentence that maliciously slips from his mouth sends another blow at her heart and the frown plastered her face deepens even more. He’s wrong. She wasn’t lying when she confessed her love for him earlier today and the fact that he accuses her of doing so is upsetting. The tears weren’t for show and tell, it was authentic and she knows that he’s aware of that. He purposely threw it up in her face just to spark a reaction out of her and it does, successfully. He’s hurt and he wants her to feel the same exact way he is despite the way she interprets it.
The jingling of his car keys mute once he shoves them inside of his pocket. London moves away from the wall and shuts her room door before he can leave, blocking out the music from downstairs. Her small frame barely blocks the door but she has no other alternatives to choose from at all.
Her glossy eyes meet his blazing ones when he stands in front of her, both of their chests nearly touching. His chest heaves up and down in aggravation. “Move out of the way.” His voice is daunting, excessively daunting and she sighs.
“No.”
“London.” He closes his eyes in an attempt to calm himself down and takes a deep breath in before opening them back up. “You have five seconds to get out of my way or I’ll physically move you myself. Don’t test my patience,” he says.
“Fuck, Harry! Are you even going to let me explain what happened?” she asks incredulously.
“Explain what?” he asks, tilting his head to the side. “How you were whoring around with him behind my back?”
“Whoring? I’m nowhere being a whore, Harry! What the hell is wrong with you?” she asks. She can’t even believe he just said that. She doesn’t even care if it was out of spite or not, it still stabs at her. Her kissing Carter mistakenly and him forcing himself on her against her will doesn’t classify her as a whore. She did the right thing by pushing him from off of her and slapping him. If she hadn’t done that, and went along with it without a care in the world, then it would’ve been suitable for him to call about her actions like that.
“My problem is that I can’t trust you anymore, London!” he says. “If I wasn’t already inside of this room waiting for you and to physically see those marks on your neck for myself, you would’ve never told me about this! You even admitted it yourself!”
She stands there silent and lowers her gaze to the floor. He does hold a point to a certain extent. The main reason why she didn’t want to say anything was that she didn’t want to mess with his heart. She made a promise to Niall to not do so and she went back on her words.
“You have a point but I wasn’t even the one who initiated the kiss, Harry! He was the one who kissed me first and I kissed him back by an accident!” she explains. “I wasn’t thinking straight at first and when I finally started to, I began shoving him off me and he wouldn’t stop! I wouldn’t intentionally do that shit to hurt you and you know that! I’m sorry!”
When she’s done speaking, he gazes down at her and starts clapping his hands together. A condescending smile forms on his face. He wonders how long it must’ve taken her to come up with that one. “I almost believed you for a second.”
She gawks at him, having her mouth slightly agape in exasperation. “What the hell, Harry? I’m telling you the truth!” she says, narrowing her eyes at him. “What do you want me to do? Get down on my knees and beg for your goddamn forgiveness?” she asks.
She’s done with his behavior and she’s starting to get pissed off as the seconds pass. How many times does he expect her to apologize? She already did countless times and it’s going out of one of his ears and out of the other. He’s not hearing her out at all. She feels like she’s wasting her time if all he’s going to do is ignore her and not hear what she has to say.
She goes to walk past him and he grabs her by the arm roughly, making her wince from the amount of force he’s using. “You know I want you to do, London?” he asks and she looks off in the opposite direction, clearly pissed off. “I want you to stay away from him!”
“No! That’s unfair, Harry! He’s my best friend!”
“I don’t give two shits about what he is to you, London! If I don’t want you with him, you’re not going to be with him!” he shouts at her. The fact that she is so hardheaded pisses him off the most. Why can’t she just listen to him for once? He sees the other side of Carter that she doesn’t. He’s a manipulative liar that purposely let him beat the shit out of him just to appear innocent in London’s eyes. Not once during their fight did he try to hit him back. He just let him hit him repeatedly up until Zayn’s arrival. Once she came outside and saw Carter bloodied up and he perfectly untouched despite his hands, the finger automatically was pointing at him.
She jerks her arm away from his grasp. “Stop acting like that!”
“How am I acting, London?” He takes a step towards her and she shoves him back with as much force as she can. He has this impulse to put his hands on her but he suppresses himself from doing so. He crosses his arms over his broad chest while looking at her frustratingly.
“You’re acting like I’m your bitch and I’m not!” she says, throwing her hands up in the air. “You don’t decide whether if I can or cannot do something, Harry! I’m capable of making my own decisions and I’m not going to stop being friends with Carter just because you want me to. I’ve known him all my life and I’m not going to neglect him just because of the animosity you share with one another. How many times do I have to make it clear to you that I’m not going to take your possessive bullshit? You don’t own me!”
He runs both of hands through his locks before tugging at it in annoyance. “You know what, London?” he asks, walking towards her with a scowled face. “Fuck this shit! Fuck everything! You’re right, I don’t own you, so you do you, and I’ll do me.”
She doesn’t even have time to contemplate about what he even said as he stormed past her, slamming her room door in the process less than kindly. What exactly was he trying to infer? A part of her wants to know the answer while the other half doesn’t even want to bother.
Everything that just happened was uncalled for, especially him and his behavior. What did he even want her to do? She told him the truth and yet he decided to ignore her, as if nothing had come out of her mouth. He was acting like douchebag. Not only that, but he had the audacity to tell her what to do, in addition to throwing everything she said out the window. That pissed her off the most, because she hates being belittled and bossed around by him as if she was a child.
Sighing, she plops down on her bed and stares up at the ceiling. Too many mixtures of emotions are flowing through her. She’s infuriated. She’s despondent. She’s tired. She’s confused. She doesn’t even know what to do right now. This is by far the worst fight she’s ever had before with Harry. The silence that almost completely engulfs her room is comforting but it’s killing her at the same time. Her muddled thoughts are eating at her.
Maybe all of this is her fault.
Maybe Harry does have every right to be mad at her.
A series of light knocks emit into her room and she doesn’t even bother diverting her gaze to glance at the door. “Who is it?” she asks, trying her hardest to suppress the annoyance in her voice from coming out. She isn’t in the mood to speak to anyone now. She just needs time to herself.
“It’s me,” the voice says. “Can I co—”
“No!” she says, cutting them off instantly.
She hears the door opening slightly and sits up abruptly. “What part of No don’t you fucking understand, Carter?”
She can’t stop herself from looking over at him in mixture of hate and disgust when he steps foot into her room. He closes the door behind him and she gets up from her bed before walking over towards him.
She crosses her arms underneath her chest curtly. “Why are you closing my room door?”
“Relax,” he says and she rolls her eyes. “I just wanted to silence out the noise from downstairs. I accidentally grabbed your phone instead of mine.”
His hand slips in his back pocket and hands her iPhone over to her afterwards. She takes it, placing it on her dresser before brushing past him and in the direction of the door. She opens it and says, “You can leave now,”
She waits there expectantly when he looks over at her. His mouth opens and closes as if he’s debating on what to say and she goes to speak again when he beats her to it.
He scratches the back of his neck. “London, I’m really sorry about what I did.”
“Exactly what part are you sorry about?” she asks while glaring at him. He has to be kidding her right now. “The fact that you forced yourself on me or the fact that my relationship with Harry is fucked up because of what you did?”
“I’m sorry about both of them but I would’ve never continued kissing you if you hadn’t kissed me back,” he says.
“Carter, don’t try to flip the script on me!” she says. She moves away from the door and takes a few steps towards him until she’s directly an arm distance in front of him. “I know I’m at fault for what I did but I kissed you back by an accident. And as soon as I broke away from it, you still continued kissing me and ignored my pleading for you to stop.”
She points her finger at him accusingly. “You purposely did that to me, Carter! What were you trying to do, get back at Harry for what he did to you? It’s like I don’t even know who you are anymore!”
“Yes, my original intentions were to get back at him because I was pissed off,” he says.
“But why?” she asks incredulously, throwing her hands up in the air. “Do you have any idea what you did?”
“Because it’s not fair, London!” he says, looking down at her. “It’s not fair that every time I see him with you, that I have to constantly be reminded that I will never stand a chance with you! There hasn’t been a time when he hasn’t thrown it up in my face before, London. Do have any idea how it feels to see him kiss you and know I’ll never be able to do that?”
He reaches out and gently cups her face in the palm of his hands, making her to look up at him. “He doesn’t love you the way I do, London. I’ve been in love with you for the longest and I was too scared to tell you it myself. Don’t you love me too?”
She nods her head up and down. “Yes, of course I do,” she says sincerely. “But not in the same as Harry. You’re like a brother to me, Carter; I can’t see myself being in a relationship with you or doing anything remotely close to what couples do.”
Her hands clasp around his wrists before she removes them from off her face. He frowns. “He doesn’t deserve to be with someone like you, London. You can do so much better than him, I know it, and you probably know it as well.”
“Carter, in no way, shape, or form are you to decide whether or not if he deserves me or not,” she says. “And I honestly have to disagree with what you said, I can’t do better than him, he’s all I want. I don’t think there’s anyone who can make me feel the way he does. Why can’t you just be happy for me?”
He shrugs his shoulders. He doesn’t know what to say. “I’ve tried and I can’t do it, London,” he says. “I’m scared that you’re going to get too caught up in the relationship and forget about me…about us. I’ve been best friends with you practically all my life and he’s already starting to ruin our friendship.”
She forms on her face when she looks at him. “You’ll always be my best friend no matter what, Carter,” she says. “But, he isn’t ruining our friendship, you are and you’re oblivious to it. For example, what you did earlier today out of spite was completely idiotic. I lost some of my respect towards you because of that.”
“I know, and I’m really sorry,” he says. “Can you forgive me?”
She bites down on her bottom lip. “Honestly…I don’t know as of now. I need time to think.”
***
It’s almost one am in the night and in the midst of her slumber, Scarlett tosses, and turns in her bed before fluttering her eyes open. Mark lays there besides her with his arm draped over her stomach. Scooting herself up to the headboard, she hoists herself up on one forearm while gently removing Mark’s arm from off her with her free hand.
She leaves the warm bed and cringes when her bare feet makes contact with the cold floor. If it weren’t for her being thirsty in the middle of the night, she would’ve never woken up. She brushes the thought aside while walking down the still hallway before descending the stairs. With every step she takes, a series of light taps echo throughout the house.
She could’ve swore she was the only person awake at this time of night but she stands corrected when she sees a faint yellow radiance emitting from the kitchen. It’s when she’s a couple feet away from entering inside—she hears the legendary sound of a can of soda being cracked open.
When she walks inside, she’s no longer concerned about her thirstiness but her daughter instead. A wave of sadness fills up her entire being and her frown deepens when she watches her slip a huge forkful of spaghetti into her mouth.
She takes a seat across from her at the table, moving the two empty Pepsi cans away from her. “Sweetie, what are you doing eating up at this time of night?” she asks.
London shrugs her shoulders while keeping her gaze lowered towards her plate. Twirling her fork around, she says, “I don’t know. I’m just kind of hungry.”
Scarlett’s eyes flicker between her plate of food and the open pot of spaghetti resting beside her on the table. No one bothered getting any during dinner yet more than half of it is demolished. She shakes her head in disbelief at her daughter’s actions.
She’s not hungry—she’s emotionally eating her feelings away.
“Why are you doing this to yourself again?”’
London places her elbow down onto the table before exhaling. “I don’t know what else to do, mom,” she says. “I already tried going to sleep and it made everything worse. I can’t stop eating.”
“Did you try calling him back to apologize?”
She nods her head. “Of course I did mom, but he won’t answer his phone. It rings and then goes straight to voicemail every single time I do it,” she says. “I gave up after a while because it was of no use. He’s not going to respond back no matter how many times I say sorry.”
She runs her hands through her hair. “This is my entire fault, mom. I ruined our relationship.”
“No, you didn’t,” she assures. “There’s no such thing as a perfect relationship, alright? Every couple faces a hardship eventually London, it’s inevitable. I used to be in the same predicament like you when I was younger. So, you need to stop pointing the finger at yourself as if you’re the one at fault. These problems arise for a reason, and it’s to test the bond of your relationship. It will either make or break you, but it’s up both of you to determine whether it will or not. It’s just like the saying, ‘When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade.’ in a sense. In other words,life will always throw tough obstacles in your path, to detain you, but you have the power to change it into something meaningful. You can always find the good in the bad, London.”
“What should I do then, mom?”
“You need to stop letting the little things in life control you,” she says, sliding the plate of food away from her. “Both of you obviously need some time alone to think all of this over. So, I suggest for you to push this aside and to get a goodnight’s sleep. Then maybe, just maybe, you’ll be able to fix the problem tomorrow afternoon.”
***
He brings the cigarette up to his parted lips and inhales deeply, the nicotine filling his lungs when he walks over to the front door. The cigarette doesn’t grant him the same satisfaction as it usually does; it barely does anything to console the anger within him. He slowly blows the smoke, having its cloudy haze form within the air.
He opens the door and sighs when he sees who it is. “What are you doing here? It’s 2 a.m. in the fucking morning.”
She brushes past him, having a waft of perfume invade his sense of smell before she walks inside of his house saying, “You’ll thank me later.”
She sets her bag down on the table and smirks when he steps inside of the kitchen. She waits for him to out his cigarette before speaking. “I heard about what happened.”
“Really?” he asks, glaring at her. “Then you must know how pissed off I am.”
She nods while sliding the plastic bag towards him on the smooth counter. “I do, which is why I got this for you.”
As soon as his green eyes land on the white powdered substance, he shakes his head. “I gave this shit up a long time ago, Brooke. I’m not about to go down the same fucking path again.”
“Come on, Harry,” her voice croons. “It’d just be like old times. It’s nothing with doing it occasionally. I do it and I’m perfectly fine.”
He looks at the baggy in contemplation before saying, “How much was it?”
“$950, it’s by far the purest I’ve ever brought,” she says. “Check it for yourself.”
Opening the bag, he dups a small amount onto the table and places some on his thumb. He waits a couple of seconds before rubbing it against his forefinger in a circular motion. Almost immediately it melts, making it become very slick and oily. There are no adulterants in it.
Both of them waste no time in aligning the cocaine in equal strips onto the table— creating two 2 inch lines Harry takes the first couple of snorts and it burns the lining of his nose for a couple of seconds before the euphoric sensation takes over his body. “Fuck,” he mutters while lifting his head up from off the table.
Giggling, Brooke sniffs the rest of the white powder off the table before stumbling backwards. “Oh shit!”
Her head feels like it’s spinning in every direction and she nearly trips over her own feet while strolling over towards Harry. She grabs a fistful of his shirt before sloppily dragging him out the kitchen. They walk up the stairs less gracefully before entering Harry’s bedroom.
She pushes him down onto his bed before climbing on top of him. She immediately smashes her lips against his in the dark room and he kisses her back roughly. The kiss, filled with nothing else except for lust. She runs her hands underneath his shirt, and moans when he bites down on her bottom lip.
Momentarily breaking away from the kiss, she pulls her dress over her head, leaving her alone in a pair of matching red undergarments.
His eyes rake up and down her body hungrily and she smirks. “Like what you see?”
“Hell—fuck yes,” he breathes out.
“Then what are you waiting for?”
She reaches inside of her bra and throws the condom packet onto his chest. “Fuck me.”