Desolation [h.s]

Chapter 16

Seraphina Amor

It's quiet as I sit on the couch in the living room, the natural light shining down onto where I am. I had finished getting ready not too long ago, some strands of hair still a little damp. I wasn't in that much of a rush if I'm being honest. It was only around mid-afternoon and one of the things I've learned over the time I've spent with Harry is that he takes a lot longer to get ready than I do.

As I waited for Harry to finish up, I had taken it upon myself to look at the small book collection that accompanied the sides of the television. He had quite the variety in his selection. However, what most surprised me the most was the lack of romance novels. He had about every other genre you could think of. Fiction, nonfiction, and even poetry, basically the entire list besides love stories. I can't blame him though. They're sometimes the most awful reads to get through. I couldn't stand them. They're unrealistic and set people's expectations too high only for them to quickly be disappointed to learn that's not how the real world exists.

What really happens is you meet someone that just satisfies you enough and you think that's 'love'. Then you settle down with them and have children and lose your entire life and freedom to look after them. You work a nine to five job that pays just enough for you to get by. Your significant other yells at you and it's a constant circle of despair and the thought of 'If things were different'.

Soulmates don't exist and neither does true love.

At least not in my world.

The pages of the book I had selected to read crinkled in hands as I turned to the next one, eyes scanning over the words. The book was boring, something about a woman trying to find her way in life after her husband dies and she's figuring out how to live by herself. I sympathized for her, I suppose. Must not be too joyful to have the 'love of your life' die.

My phone rested in my white purse that was placed by my legs, the material brushing against my bare skin as I shifted in my spot. In all honesty, I didn't like using my phone for things other than work purposes. Having phones or my own personal devices was never something I had growing up so I hadn't developed the crippling need to always be on it.

That mindset was probably going to backfire one day but I just couldn't bring myself to carry around such an unnecessary item at all times of the day. It was an extra thing to worry about that wasn't all too important.

As I rolled my eyes at the woman in the story for crying for the hundredth time, the sound of a door opening and closing came from the hallway. A few seconds later, shoes were tapping against the floor, drawing closer and closer.

"What took you so long today, Styles? I've been waiting out here for ages," I drawl, tearing my eyes away from the pages of the book to watch as he saunters into the room. Harry looks over at me, eyebrows raised as he acknowledges where I'm perched on the couch.

"It wasn't that long," he responds slyly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his black trousers.

"It's been almost half an hour," I tell him, motioning to the clock that rested on the top shelf. Harry merely glanced over to it, keeping his eyes on me as he shrugged.

"That's not long at all. I think you just have no patience," he says and I send him a deadpan expression as my response.

Harry grins proudly at me, the deep dimples popping out in his cheeks. I observe him silently as he walks into the kitchen, the light gray material of his jacket that covered his infamous white shirt moving with each step. He collects his things off of the kitchen counter and places them into his pocket.

"Are you ready to go?" Harry asks, glancing at me over his shoulder as he cleans off a spot on the counter. I nod my head, holding down my dress as I stand up, lifting my bag off of the ground.