Before my alarm sounded, the noise of my bickering parents woke me up. I fell asleep relatively early, so I wasn't sure how their last argument had ended. This was a definite sign that it hadn't been resolved last night.
I groaned at the time. They were arguing at six-thirty in the morning before my dad is off to work. I had at least another hour to sleep in and immediately felt myself getting cranky at this realization. I tossed the blanket aside and slipped out of my bed. I tried to be discreet about my eavesdropping. Every step was as quiet as a mouse, careful for the specifically squeaky floorboards. Sneaking out had its perks; my footwork was comparable to a spy. Once at my door, I pressed my ear firmly to the wood and listened. Their room was down the hall, but the tone of their voices made it easy enough to be heard.
"When were you going to tell me?" My dad's voice wasn't how it usually sounded. It was the voice he used when I would get in trouble; when he was disappointed. I felt my heart thud at his words. Could she have told him, or did he find out himself somehow? My mom was silent after his question. I was more interested to see if somehow she was going to include me into this, to try and throw in the fact that I knew about it; therefore making me somehow equally responsible for the act. If that was the case, I'd be in their room in a split second to defend myself. But to my surprise, she didn't.
"I don't know," She added dumbly, her voice sounding frail. There was no defense on her part, only regret in her voice. My father remained silent, and the sound of shuffling feet could be heard. He had enough of the conversation and muttered something I couldn't hear before he left the room. Once he was down the stairs, I took a step away from the door. I didn't hear enough to know if they were talking about my mom's infidelity or not. I was about to walk back to my bed until I heard my mom's footsteps coming towards my door. I froze, waiting to see what she would do. The sound stopped directly in front of my door and paused completely. She lingered for a minute before she exhaled and went down the stairs. The air returned to my lungs. I didn't realize that I was so desperate to avoid her company until I noticed that I had held my breath to avoid her. Seconds passed, and I was still frozen to make sure that I was alone upstairs now. Once confirmed, I plopped back onto my bed. It was too early to dive into the world of marriage. Situations like this made me wish that I had a sibling to confide in. Instead, I have to deal with it alone. I guess life could be worse; at least they don't bring me into their arguments.
I'm too awake to sleep now. With a sigh, I reached for my phone that laid beside my pillow. There were a bunch of texts from my friends in our chat, and two from Harry. One was from last night that I hadn't responded to, and one was sent around midnight and made me blush furiously.
"Goodnight, beautiful. Pick you up at 8"
I knew that he wasn't joking; he will be here in an hour and a half. I decided that now was the time to start my shower if I wanted to keep his presence a secret from my mother. I grabbed some clothes and headed for the bathroom across the hallway. Despite the argument; I was thankful that they woke me up before seven in the morning to grant me more time. Especially since I knew that my mother would want to talk to me when I got downstairs. Probably to question me about our alleged broken promise, or to confide in me. Normally I would rush out the door in either case. I decided that I should talk to her. Maybe the odds of her following me to the front door would decrease.
By seven-thirty, I was showered, blow-dried, perfumed, dressed-- you name it. That was the fastest I've gotten ready in this entire school year. I wasn't concerned with being late to class, I was concerned about the argument that would come from her seeing me with an older man. I can suddenly remember the words that she used to describe Jonathan when he and Felicite started dating-- "unacceptable and disgusting." And don't forget the follow-up question, "Where are her parents?"
I quickly thought about using this as a counter-attack against her if she did see Harry. Where are my parents, mom? As sick as it was to use their own argument against them. I knew that she wouldn't believe me if I told her that nothing was going on, so that was my only way to get her off my ass about it.
"Hi, mom." I forced a smile and brushed some hair from my face. When she turned from the sink, I could see that she was crying moments ago. Probably when I was in the shower. I felt bad for her all of a sudden but took it back when the memory of her and that man resurfaced. "Bella.." She trailed off, her voice shaking. I didn't have anything to say to her, so I hugged her instead and let her cry. But she didn't cry, she only held me close and whispered in my ear. "Your dad knows," her words confirmed my suspicions. I let out a soft huff before I nodded in acknowledgment. I was waiting for her to accuse me, ready for the argument to begin. She must've sensed that I was waiting for it.
"Someone sent a letter to his job," My teary-eyed, weak mother confessed. The way her brown hair tickled my face made me irritated, and all I wanted to do was remove myself from the hug. Thankfully, she did that for me. "There was no name on it." I had my suspicions on who it could be. Obviously, it could be the man she was screwing. Or someone she pissed off since she has that effect on people. The man's wife, the man's kids. It could be anyone, but in reality— I was just glad that I didn't have to break the news. The only thing that bugged me was the timing of the letter. Three years later is quite a while to wait before you try to ruin someone's life. Why not right after?
"What's going to happen now?" That was the only thing I was concerned with. She was left to deal with her embarrassment, with no coddling from me. Or my dad, for that matter. My mom's blue eyes stared back into mine dully. "I don't know yet," She confessed. Would there even be a point to get a divorce now? I'll be done high school soon, off to college. Effectively moved out from home, and no longer a burden on them. They already tolerate one another, with hardly any romantic interaction. At least not that they show publicly if my dad is ever home long enough. Sure, my mother can always get another job. But I don't think that my dad would be too keen on giving her half of everything that he worked for. Like I said; I wished that I had a sibling to talk about this stuff with. Or even a friend that understood what it was like to be in this situation. A cat, even. To sit on my bed and let me talk his furry ears off.
She took her place back at the sink, washing the pan she had just used. I hadn't noticed that she cooked me scrambled eggs and sausages, as I was too preoccupied with my parents' soap-opera. It wasn't like her to do that for me anymore, considering that I'd usually bolt for the door and hide until my friends got here. She must really think this is going to end badly for herself.
I tried to sound thankful for the meal, but it came out as more of a concerned question. She was too preoccupied to realize that I had even said anything regardless. I took a few bites and basked in on the silence until I realized that I was on a tight schedule. My efforts at being subtle failed miserably when I scrambled to retrieve my phone, causing some ruckus against the wooden table. It sounded like a mouse scurrying away. My mother peeked back at me curiously, her train of thought now broken. "Are you alright, Arabella?" I tried to act casual.
"Sorry, I'm shaky without coffee," I confessed, hoping that she would fall for it. She rolled her eyes at my comment and let out a sigh. "Honey, I told you to stop drinking so much coffee. It's not good for you." I ignored her comment. I was thankful that she seized the opportunity to lecture me on my caffeine intake instead. She turned back around and fell back into her thoughts. My breathing returned to normal.
I pressed the button on my phone and silently cussed at the time. I had three minutes to scarf this down and make a run for it. Part of me wondered if I should text him and tell him to be ready for me to jump through the window. With my luck, he would make me jump through his window, in his lap, instead of the passengers' side window.
The remaining eggs were shoveled into my mouth by my fork. They were mushy, so it made it easy to swallow without much effort. I was getting out of my seat while I said good-bye, and shoved a sausage into my mouth for the road. She was too busy thinking to notice my rushed behavior and wished me a good day.
Just as I busted through the front door, the soft bass of a familiar song filled my ears; and it was coming from Harry's car. I wondered how long he was there for, and if my mother or father had seen him.
"In a rush to see me?" Harry teased, turning the music down. The way I busted through the door was funny to him, judging by the smirk he had on his face. I was climbing into his car as he teased me, stuffing myself against the seat so his body would block mine enough from the living room windows. "I'd say you were in a rush to see me, considering that you're here earlier than you said you'd be," I argued without thinking of my words, desperate to hide from the window. My attitude never phased him, or so it seemed. I just wanted him to drive away. He did fall for my trap and turned his body to face mine. His chest concealed me from the window, and I let out a breath of relief.
"Well, you left me hanging last night. I was afraid that someone else had climbed through your open window." I couldn't tell if he was joking or not. He was looking at me almost quizzically, wondering if I would be honest about it, I assumed.
"I'd rather not bang someone three feet away from my parents, thank you very much." I huffed in disgust, squinting at his intrusive question. Something tells me that he was referring to something different. This was the first time that I had seen him with a straight face at something I said. There was a brief switch in emotion; almost robotic. He was smirking again within seconds.
"Good thing that I have my own apartment for that," Harry responded, making me shoot a glare at him. He chuckled on cue and pulled his seatbelt on, before speeding down the road.
I decided that I wasn't going to talk to him. I sat there, pondering over what he could possibly have thought happened to me when I didn't answer. Surely he's had someone not respond to a text. Okay, maybe not. That explains his question well enough. I briefly reminded myself to stop being so stubborn, before throwing myself back into the conversation. I tried my best to be nice, despite the invasion of privacy.
"Don't you have to work? I'm sure you've got better things to do than drive me to school." I prodded, squinting my eyes skeptically at him. Harry didn't take his eyes off of the road.
"Don't worry about it." Was all that he said.
"So you're going to be waiting for me all hours of the morning, and all day to drive me home? Interesting. Can you drive me to that boy's house later? You know, the one who snuck through my window?" I was hoping that my answer would provoke something. That he would think that I was implying something rude. He laughed it off.
"I own a few buildings in Seattle." Harry finally said, glancing over at me with a smirk. "Mainly gyms and penthouses. I make my own hours." Oh, well that's just great. The one thing that could possibly hold him back was controlled. By him. He could follow me around twenty-four-seven if he wanted to, and his job wouldn't stop him.
My irritability was showing through my facade, and I didn't care anymore. I was mad that he didn't have any other responsibilities to keep him away from me at least for one single day this week. "That leads me to the second part of my question. Don't you have anything better to do than drive me around at eight in the morning?" I repeated irritably. Harry grinned at my tone, and I could imagine him mumbling the word "feisty" as he had previously described me. To my surprise, he nodded. "Actually, I do." He put it simply without elaborating further. It was weird how reserved he was in person like everything was some sort of secret. When he noticed me staring at him, waiting, he spoke. "You never said that I had to tell you." The grin widened. I was defeated, and he was right. I met my match in terms of stubbornness.
I leaned back against my chair, sighing at him loudly so that he knew that I was agitated.
The next sentence that came out of his mouth made me flustered. And angry.
"For someone who tries to make herself seem uninterested in me, you sure do ask a lot of questions."
My head snapped back over to him; as smug as ever, leaning nonchalantly against his seat with one hand on the wheel like yesterday. "Tries to make myself seem uninterested?" I repeated. Part of me was embarrassed that he called me out like that, and the other was angry that he had the nerve to act like I didn't need to know. "The only reason that I'm asking questions is so that I know you're not going to murder my family in their sleep—not because I want to know." I didn't care if I got a rise out of him anymore, or if he got mad. Or if he laughed at me like any other time. For the first time in my life, I was dying to get to school.
Harry was silent next to me, so I figured that I had shut him up for the remainder of the ride. My heart was beating wildly as the bus loop came into view. I gathered my things frantically before we even pulled in. I was ready to jump out of the car while it was still moving but knew that his cat-like reflexes would prevent it.
Harry's voice, a darker tone than before, interrupted me as I went to grab the door handle. "Why didn't you call them?" he asked, leaving me confused. "The cops. Why didn't you call them?" He clarified after my silence occupied the air, his dark green eyes coming to meet mine now. My heart skipped a beat.
The short flashback of yesterday played in my mind when I told him that I would call the cops if he showed up to my house in the morning. Truth be told— I had no immediate answer as to why I didn't call the cops, or why I didn't just tell my mother that there was an older man stalking me. It dawned upon me that the ultimate answer was simple: I didn't want to.
This would only ruin the argument that I had created against him. To him, it would show that I was actually interested, and had just acted otherwise. Once again, accepting my defeat, I answered.
"Because I didn't want to."
"Why?" Harry pursed his lips, eyebrows furrowing. His expression was starting to become frightening. I mentally wondered why he cared so much but didn't dare say it out loud. His eyes were so dark that they were beginning to look black instead of green.
The more I thought of his question, the more that I couldn't answer it. I didn't know the answer. In the back of my mind, I guess I didn't think that he would actually hurt me. It all came down to the fact that I didn't know him, but was intrigued by him. By how his mind worked, how he acted. How he affords the black car, and how he can afford to drive me around every day. And his taste in music didn't make it so bad. At least it wasn't the vomit-inducing pop songs that were sent to the radio to die, that Kristen often played.
"I was curious," I admitted. Harry stared at me for another few seconds. It felt shitty to have him show me up like that; to know what my feelings were before I knew them myself. I thought that I wasn't interested in him— maybe not romantically speaking, but I was interested.
"Which means that you are interested in me," Harry concluded, the darkness clearing from his features. I watched in awe as he transformed back into the smirking, handsome devil before my very eyes. "therefore I was right."
"You meant it in a romantic way, I didn't," I argued back, feeling the irritation come back.
"I didn't say that you were romantically interested..you're the only one pointing it out, aren't you?" Harry pointed out, tilting his head patronizingly as he witnessed me get tongue-tied immediately. I felt compelled to stay and argue, but realized that I had the choice to leave the car at my disposal. Without another word, I climbed out of the car and slammed the door behind me.
That was beginning to become the new good-bye between us. Followed by his usual, "Have a good day, beautiful." And the sound of his car exceeding the school zone limit.