After basically spending the night in Harry's room talking, by the time I went back to my room it was around six fifty-one. The sun was out and I couldn't sleep for the life of me. Harry and I didn't exactly have a deep conversation, in fact nothing really came of it. I think maybe he just felt like talking to someone and was glad I was there to listen, even if he had nothing to say.
After tossing and turning and laying on my back with closed eyes, I finally decide to get out of bed. The time was now seven twenty-two, another unsuccessful night of sleep. I go downstairs and grab an apple, I wasn't feeling hungry but I liked to imagine my family gathered in the dining hall, having breakfast. My mother would be having a plate of fruit and a glass of water. Mila would be having scrambled eggs, a piece of bacon and one waffle on the side and I would be having an apple and would be getting scolded for eating so little and my father would be in his office.
You know how they say, never put work before your family? Well that was definitely not the case for my father. He loved his job. Being a Mafia leader required very little work especially since he had people doing his dirty work for him. We always hated that it took so much time away from us, I'm sure my mom was on her last straw. Our parents never really fought in front of us, but we would always hear them through the walls. The last time I saw them together they were tense, almost as if something had happened between them.
That was the same day I registered on Facebook, full name and picture. And then my father sent my mother and sister away and I never saw them since. I would call them sometimes and just like my five minute showers, conversations over the phone had the same five minute rule.
I realized, the more I spent time alone with my father the more I grew to hate him. Not in a way that I would want him wiped out from the face of the earth, he was still my father and I loved him. But I hated him for never allowing me to live. From Pre-k to the fourth grade I was pulled from school and was homeschooled by Mrs. Lopez and there went any social life I ever had.
I must've been zoned out remembering all these memories because Zayn walks in the kitchen, black jeans, black shirt, black boots and a black leather jacket. "Are you good?" He asks, looking me up and down. I then remember the way we made out and my face grows hot.
"Hi." I mumble behind the apple making him chuckle.
"Why are you up so early?" He asks. I didn't want to tell him I was in Harry's room all night so I shrugged. He's making himself a cup of coffee.
"I just couldn't go back to sleep." I lie making him nod. "What about you?" I ask as I take a bite of the apple.
"I'm going out to run some errands." He says, keeping it short. I wanted to ask what kind of errands but by the face he made I could tell it was exactly what I was thinking.
I shivered at the thought. "Oh." Was all I said.
He drinks from his cup and reaches inside his leather jacket, takes out a box of cigarettes and puts one up to his lips before lighting it. "You sure you're okay?" He asks again, inspecting my face for any sort of hint that I might be lying, he blows the smoke away.
I nod. "I'm okay, I'm just homesick." I wave him off. "When will you be back?"
He shrugs. "I'm not sure, but when I come back we can watch a few movies if you want." He suggests making me smile and nod. He smiles and stands up from his chair, leaning over the table towards me and kisses my cheek. "I'll see you later." And with that, he walks out the front door.
I hang around my room until about lunchtime, I took two naps since then and by the time I came downstairs, the guys were outside doing some kind of intense workout routine. I only watched them from the door as I ate a sandwich until the front door opens and in comes Harry.
"Hey." I say, surprised to see him be back so early. Most days he wasn't really home until late at night. Harry looks at me while he walks towards the kitchen and I'm on his trail. "Where'd you go today?"
"Somewhere." He says, chugging down a water bottle from the fridge. He throws the empty bottle in the trash before walking over to the sink, ridding his hands of what looked to be dried blood and dirt making me cringe. He makes sure to clean under his finger nails thoroughly and when he looks at me, he must notice the look of disgust on my face. "Get used to it." He says, nonchalantly drying his hands. There's also a substance on his black shirt, he removes it and runs it under the tap and sure enough, more blood.
"I'd much rather not."
"I do it to protect you, sound a little more grateful." He retorts and I ignore him and walk over to the couch, a few seconds later Harry joins me there too. He sits on the other end, sighing.
"I guess you're back to being a dick." I grumble, referring to how he was a total different person just a few hours ago.
"Being nice isn't exactly a characteristic of mine." He points out, playing with the rings on his fingers. He looked guilty, or maybe he looked like he could care less of what I thought. You can't really differentiate his emotions, he's a master at showing none.
"I can see that." I say, sounding annoyed. "It doesn't hurt to try. I won't tell anyone if that's what you're worried about." Maybe he had this reputation he wanted to maintain, his reputation of being a fucking dick perhaps. But maybe that's why no one really messed with him.
"Why do you even care?"
"I don't." I lie and look down, I can see a faint smile or smirk coming from Harry.
"Come to my room later."
I turn to look at him as he was beginning to stand from the couch. "Again?"
"Just—listen to me for once." He says, holding back from going off on me. I didn't say anything else but nodded. He looks away from me. "Okay." He gives me one last glance before he walks off upstairs and I hear the sound of his bedroom door shut.
—
The guys and I did our usual nightly activities, this time, they took out a bottle of alcohol and offered me some. I would be lying if I said I had never drank before. My father has a very expensive rustic mahogany bar cabinet in his office. It's filled with different kinds of expensive malt whiskey's. It must've been the night of my eighteenth birthday, I snuck in his office and took his brand new collector's bottle of Redemption 36 and drank it straight from the bottle.
I don't really remember if I actually liked the taste or not because I got alcohol poisoning the next day and I had passed out. I guess my body couldn't handle the big amounts of liquor in my bloodstream. It's one of my most fond memories, when I think about it I can smell the mahogany wood and the way the sweet cigar smell penetrated the wood.
Louis gave me about four shots of the bottle of vodka, it was hot and it made my stomach churn. "Jesus fuck, did you store it in the car with the heater on?" Niall says, clearing his throat. "That shit is hot!"
"This is the way a man drinks it, Niall. You are therefore not a man and I will be needing your man card." I laugh as Niall gets up to grab a water bottle for himself from the fridge.
Zayn hadn't been back yet from whatever errand he said he was doing. This was odd, he was usually the one back early and Harry was always late. This made me remember Harry was waiting for me upstairs for whatever reason.
I stood up from the floor earning the guys attention. "Where you going, Tina?" Louis asks, shuffling the poker cards. "Don't tell us you're going to bed."
"I am actually." I say. "I'm tired and I didn't sleep well last night." I yawn before the front door opens.
"What's going on?" Zayn says, coming next to me.
"Your girlfriend wants to go to bed already." Louis snickers making me blush at the part where he called me Zayn's girlfriend. Zayn looks at me.
"Do you still want to watch a few movies?" He asks making me nod before we both go upstairs. When we reach my door, Harry comes out of the bathroom, hair wet. He looks at Zayn before looking towards me and walks away in his room. I look at Zayn.
"Actually I'm feeling a bit sick from the hot vodka, I think I'll just get to sleep. But we can watch movies tomorrow?" I say, feeling bad I was lying to him just to go with Harry, of all people. But I guess in order for Harry and I to be in the same room without wanting to kill each other we should probably get along first.
He looks at me and nods. "Sure." Zayn offers a small smile and walks back downstairs. I wait for him to be out of sight and once he is, I walk over to Harry's and hesitantly knock. I bite the inside of my cheek as I wait.
A few seconds later Harry opens the door, he wore black sweats and a black shirt. He looks at me for a while before moving aside for me to come in. I hold my arms, looking as he walks past me. I was unsure of what to do so I followed him.
"So why did you ask me up here?" I ask as soon as I sit on the couch, crossing my legs under me. He scratches the back of his neck and sits at end of the couch, opening his laptop and setting it on the small coffee table in front of us.
"Thought we could watch a movie as a start." Harry says awkwardly. "Or—I don't know." I could tell he was struggling.
"Not a single cuss word in that sentence, wow." I clap sarcastically and Harry rolls his eyes.
"Fuck off." There it is.
I let out a small laugh. "I mean, it isn't hard. You can start off by saying something nice to me." I shrug.
"Like what?" He really was clueless.
"Mmm, maybe compliment how pretty my brown eyes are." I joke, batting my eyelashes at him. He looks at me in confusion before looking away.
"I am not doing that." He retorts, looking back to his computer screen and opening up Netflix. Did he really just make an account so we can watch movies?
"Or just think of something and say something nice about it." I shrug, picking at my nails. He thinks about it before speaking.
"I'm very good at killing people." Harry says.
"Okay, maybe don't mention killing people. " I say with a laugh. He settles on the movie Hush.
We watched in silence before Harry points to her and looks at me. "She's deaf and mute and puts up a fight, you should be embarrassed of yourself."
I roll my eyes. "Just make me angry and give me a metal pipe, I'll show you." He scoffs, keeping his attention to the movie.
I watch as Harry props his head up with his arm, puts his feet up on the coffee and sighs. "This movie is so stupid."
"Why?" I look towards him. "Do you think women can't fend for themselves or something?"
"Women can," He takes a beer out of the mini fridge and opens it. "You can't."
"That is so sexist."
"You want to know what's sexist? Why make the antagonist a male? Why do all movies with the female lead have the antagonist be a male? She could've easily been a woman." He takes a drink from his beer.
"Right, but in this case it's a male."
"In all cases it's a male." He retorts. "And it's because all these fucking writers are a bunch of sexist pussies."
"You can't claim something is sexist and use the term pussy in the same sentence, it's like reverse sexism." I challenge.
"Isn't pussy a cat though?" Harry challenges me, a faint smirk behind his beer. "What kind of pussy were you thinking of?"
My face grows hot at this. "You are not going to pin me as a pervert, you're the pervert."
"Is it because I'm a guy?" He says. "Because that is sexist."
"Just choose another movie." I contain my laugh and lean my arm on the backrest of the couch, propping my head up. He searches through Netflix and picks some movie that I really wasn't paying attention to. I was glad Harry and I could have moments like this, it's refreshing not wanting to strangle him for once.
It had to have been around the beginning of the movie when I let my mind wonder. Why am I really here? I sneak a glance at him, watching as he takes a drink while he keeps his eyes to the computer screen. I bite the inside of my cheek, mustering up the courage to finally speak. "Harry?" He tears his gaze from the screen and looks at me. "Can I ask you a question?"
He inhaled and exhales, looking away momentarily. "What is it?" I can tell he must've really wanted to tell me to not have said anything at all, but I'm afraid if I don't my brain would eat me alive.
I didn't really know where to start. Why did you kidnap me? Why did you really kill Clyde? Did my father really send you? "Are you really here to protect me?" I ask lowly, almost afraid of the answer.
"I wouldn't be here if it wasn't." He says, keeping it short.
"And I don't mean to sound like I'm not thankful, I am more than glad that I'm still alive. But I can't rest not knowing why all of this is happening." I look down at his cross necklace that had slipped from under his shirt.
"There is nothing you should be concerned of, Valentina."
"How would I know that's true?" I was slowly beginning to lose my temper. "I'm sorry but I can't stop thinking of you putting that gun to my head." It's all I could see whenever I slept or even when I'd look at him, sometimes I'll picture him actually pulling the trigger. "I can't tell if you're a good person or not, the fact that you're afraid of nothing doesn't sit right with me."
Harry clenches his jaw before he stands up and I question myself if I've angered him. He goes over to his bed and reaches underneath the pillow. When he turns back around, he has the gun in his hand and my heart races as he walks closer to me. I expected for him to aim it at me, shout at me or do whatever it was the Harry from before would do.
I did not expect for him to kneel down in front of me, grab my hand and wrap it around the gun, my pointer finger hovering the trigger. My heart beats a thousand miles per hour and I can almost hear my own breathing. "What are you doing?" I finally ask, wanting to drop the gun from my hand.
It felt foreign.
"I am not afraid of dying. I promised I'd keep you safe and I intend to do that with my life. If you decide I'm not fit for this, feel free to pull the trigger." He holds my wrist in place and puts the gun to his head, not daring to let my hand go. I can feel how hard his grip is.
"Please stop." I was now having trouble breathing and I was sure a panic attack was due.
"You can tell them I put a gun to your head and they won't question you." Harry says, maintaining eye contact. "You will go home regardless of what happens. Your life is on my hands and now, mine is on yours." He was reaching for the trigger, I refused to move in case this backfired and one of us ends up shot.
Just as his finger was beginning to press on the trigger, I speak. "I trust you! I trust you!" I exasperate, trying to catch my breath. Harry let's go of my hand and I drop the gun. My hands tremble and Harry reaches for them, steadying them. When I look at him, his face is calm.
After a few seconds of staring at each other, his hands reach for my face, moving my hair away. He unexpectedly places his forehead against mine, my heartbeat regulating now that the gun was gone. I thought I had seen Harry when his guard was down, but this was something else. What surprised me even more was what he said next.
"I'm not a good person," He breathes out. "But I'm willing to try for you."