Chapter 5
Ariana’s P.O.V.
“Hello? Come back to earth!” I say with a small giggle. He’s so stunning. He’s got a chiseled jaw, pink plump lips, green emerald eyes, and really, really, white teeth. His hair is up in it’s quiff, it’s a chocolate brown, and his tattoos look really good in his Rolling Stones tshirt.
“Harry right?” I ask him, knowing damn well that is name is Harry. I mean, how could I forget? I couldn’t stop thinking about him since the day we met. I wonder if he thinks about me too.
“Yeah,” he smiles, “Ariana, is it?” I find it hard to believe he remembered my name, I mean, he seemed sweet when we first met, but no one really ever remembers me, ya know? People called me “The girl with the red hair,” or “The short, skinny one.”
“Yes, it is.” I reply.
“Can I buy you a drink?” he says. He said it in such a respectful way, not like when boys try to hit on you, he just wants to buy me a drink and talk for a bit.
Add that to the list of why I like him. Wait what? Did I just say that? Do I like him?
“Ariana?”
“Oh yeah, sorry, sure. That’d be lovely.” I say giving him a warm smile.
We sit at the end of the bar on the high stools. This bar is too high, if I might add.
“What would you like?” the bartender is a middle aged women with too much makeup and a raspy voice. She reminds me of the old lady in Monsters Inc., the one that worked at the counter.
“Um, just water please.” she gives me a surprised look and it takes me a minute to register why. I’m at a bar, of course people think it’s gonna be weird I’m getting water.
“Can you actually change that to a Coke please?” I hope that sounds a bit better. Judging by the look Harry’s giving me, it doesn’t sound any better. He’s trying to suppress a grin. I flush and look away.
“I’ll take a beer please.” I watch him as he speaks, with an accent I catch. This one’s British, I know that. I watch him, I watch his lips more than him, but still, him.
The bartender walks away to get our drinks and he looks over at me.
“I only drink when I’m stressed out, don’t worry, I’m not some alcoholic.” his tone gets a little too serious at the end.
“Why are you stressed?” I ask with a frown.
Harry takes a long, and I mean long, sigh before he runs his hand through his hair and looks at me.
“Uhm, let’s say, family problems. That’s much less complicated.”
“I got time?”
“Well, I uh,” he clears his throat, “don’t take this the wrong way, but why? Like, why are you asking me?”
“I don’t know, I just want to be there for someone, I guess.” because I know how it feels when no one was there me.
“Oh, okay. Can we go outside then?”
“Our drinks?”
He starts laughing, I find myself completely dazed in the way his eyes shut tight and his dimple becomes very prominent.
“I’ll pay for those later” he says with a smile still on his face.
….
We walk outside, the people Harry was sitting next to don’t even notice us. He immediately sits on the curb, so I sit next to him.
“Can I ask you a question before you start?” he looks to his right almost like he forgot I was there. Maybe he was thinking about something.
“Sure.”
“Why are you so willing to tell me?”
“Because you asked.”
I think over his answer for a minute or two while looking at the ground. Does he mean because I cared enough to ask? Or because no one’s asked? Or-
“Well, uhm. I was really close with my mom, like really, close. She was my best friend, she was with me from my first day in elementary school to my last. She taught me how to build snowmen, how to ride my back, and as cliche as that sounds, she was my best friend. When I would fall off of my bike, she’d always be there to catch me. My dad on the other hand was always best friends with alcohol. Uh, my dad’s dad, so my grandfather, beat him. Pretty badly I believe. I think he abused my grandmother as well, but he’s dead now, and I’m not sure how I feel about it. Like I said, my dad’s always turned to alcohol because his dad always but alcohol oh his burns, and bruises. His dad always said “Alcohol ‘ll fix it.” so that’s what my dad lives of off. Always though his old man was right, ‘cause his dad would beat him if he thought his old man was wrong. So when my mom died about 9 months ago, in February to a drunk driver, my dad turned right back to his best friend to comfort him. You’d think he’d realize that drinking got my mom, his wife, killed right? But he didn’t. Since then, he’s brought home countless “women”who don’t deserve that title, and just tried to get with them, really. The worst part is that the only thing my little brother Jason knows, is that mom left to go visit Aunty J in Heaven.” he holds his head in his hands and stays like that for a little while.
I don’t know what to say or do.
“I’m sorry,” I finally choke out the words, “no one should have to deal with that.” He was about to interrupt but I put my hand up before he could.
“No matter what they’ve been through, or what they did, or what they will do, no one deserves to be put in that kind of situation.
“I agree.” he whispers barely audible. I look at him and now that I know a part of him that doesn’t show, I see Harry differently. He looks younger, now that I can see past the burden he bears, he looks vulnerable, I hope no one ever mistreats him like his father.
“So how about you?”
“Me?” I question with raised eyebrows.
“Yeah, you.” he copies my actions, except he adds a smile.
“I don’t know, really.” I stutter, why am I so uncomfortable? This man just told his life story to me, I should be able to tell him mine.
“Oh come on, you know. You can trust me.” Harry states. I look into his eyes then, they look right back into mine, and we stay like that until I start to speak.
“I was... I was 11. I over at my uncle’s house because my parents were at the court, getting divorced. He lived in the middle of nowhere, which is obviously rare in New York. BUt the court was only 6 miles away, something like that. I was in the living room playing with my dolls while he was sitting on the couch watching me. When I was 11 I didn’t even think about how weird it was, but I was 11, I didn’t even think about it. He asked me to come to the other room with him, and I said okay because, well, he’s my uncle and I trusted him. So we went into the room and he, uh, he hit me.” I start to play with the grass growing in the road’s cracks.
“He hit you?!”
“And then he, uhm. He touched me. No, no, he raped me. My mom, well, no one knows, but you.” biting my lip doesn’t help the tears from not flowing.
Harry looks at me like I’m some foreign creature.
“I’m so, so sorry Ariana. I just can’t believe someone would do that.” his eyes hold pity and disgust. Next thing I know he’s hugging me, and I probably shouldn’t, but I hug him back.
To think we met almost a month ago, and we already know each other’s stories. I feel like there’s something about Harry that I can trust. Maybe it’s because he’s been through something bad too, or because he listened to me, or maybe because he trusted me. I’m not sure, all I know is that his muscular, model arms wrap around me, and my thin, model arms wrap around him.
....
Author's note (please read)
We are sooo sorry for not doing the double update, it's because our wifi was not working very well, but as far as I'm concerned, it's fine now, so we can't use that excuse anymore. Ha. This chapter was a bit different to write because of all of the dialouge, but we hope you still enjoy it. Follow us on Instagram @learningtolovefanfic (pretty self explanatory), lol. But thank you for 100+ reads already! We joined less than a month ago, and it means so much to us. We can only grow from here. Sorry this note is so long, but I'm almost done. We will definitely update at least once more this week, hopefully twice, but we don't want to rush this story. Please continue to vote, comment, share, and read!
Lot's of love xxx