chapter 9.

5.6K 120 120
                                    

°°
What came first, the chicken or the dickhead?

Split sleep reaps rewards from ill-fitting thoughts
The twilight forced you to go on a walk
Your legs start running, and your leg gets caught
°°

Give me strength.

Here he comes, although this time with his legs covered by joggers and top half covered by a navy sweater. What's with the love for skater boy outfits? He looks like he's on top of the world with that walk, probably feels if considering he said he's not had sex in a week.

He really is one of those guys isn't he?

That girl disappeared off into a taxi that pulled up two minutes ago, half dressed with her makeup smudged. I hope Harry paid for it, or at least gave her some money towards it, you can't just fuck someone and throw them out half naked.

I'm sitting holding onto the wheel and staring out the windscreen traumatised and pretending I haven't seen Harry make his way down to my car, until Harry opens my car door and leans himself on the top of it. I don't even have to look at him to know he's smirking, it's all her ever seems to do.

"Coming in Birdy?" He chuckles, holding a hand out to help me out of the car like I'm an old lady or something.

I dread to imagine where those hands have been since the last time I saw him.

I hit it out of the way and stand up myself, because funnily enough I do have two fully functioning legs. When I shut the car door Harry swivels on the ball of his foot and leads me towards his house and the bounce in his step readily does do all the talking. Hopefully that means he's gonna be less of a twat now.

His house is nice, it's really modern on the outside but inside has surprisingly character. It's all open plan with a staircase in the corner and I'd expect his house to be all greys and blacks, but it's not. There's one navy blue accent wall and his furniture is a lighter brown leather, the wooden coffee tables and the gold lamps also add to the little theme he's got going on too.

His perfectly put together home doesn't fool me though. He might have a pretty house but he himself is not a very pretty man.

On the inside that is, I'm not even gonna lie to myself and say he's not attractive.

To me however, attractiveness is based on who you are as a person, not your looks so forgive me for saying this but I've changed my mind. Harry is pretty ugly.

"Miss me that much did you? Or did you change your mind about wanting to fuck me?" Chuckles Harry as he throws himself down on his couch.

What the fuck goes through this mans head? I wouldn't fuck him if someone was holding a gun to my head.

He's got his legs up on the couch, taking up the length of the whole thing and I don't fancy sitting that close to him so I just sit myself down on the chair at the opposite end. His gaze never left me as I did so either - someone sure does know how to make a person feel uncomfortable.

"When were you gonna tell me about you fighting at my club last night?" I ask him, refusing to acknowledge that comment about me wanting to have sex with him.

"Well you see, I was a little busy this morning so I was just going to tell you about that whenever it sprung back into my memory." He answers, flashing me a sarcastic smile.

You know, it's almost as if he just likes pissing me off.

Twat.

"I didn't fight anyone, darling. I just gave them a warning." He adds, dragging his tongue along the inside of his cheek.

Infatuated (hsau)Where stories live. Discover now