Shelter // H.S.

Chapter 14*

"It's down to my bones

Down to my bones

Down in my bones is where I hide you

But I cannot control

Losing control

I can't control it if I tried to"

Dallas

"You'd think they would have fixed the elevator by now."

"Seriously, I swear we put in that work order weeks ago."

Marching up the five flights of stairs to our shared apartment, Carson and I catch our breaths as we park our bags outside our front door. I fumble for my key for a second before successfully opening the door and trudging inside.

"My legs are still sore from that hike. Remind me to start going to the gym with you." I sigh, kicking off my shoes and lugging my bags back to my room.

"You say that now, but don't come crying to me when I wake you up at 8am every Monday and Friday for pilates." Carson calls out from down the hallway as I enter my room.

"Whatever! I'm taking a shower first!"

"Wait!"

Carson runs into my room just as I throw my bags onto my bed. I hear her footsteps stop as she glides down the hallway with her socks, and she comes to a stumbling stop at my doorway.

"What?"

"So, how did you sleep last night?" She asks, taking a few steps into my room.

"Fine? Why?"

"Oh, no reason..." She looks off to the pictures littering the space above my desk, acting nonchalant. Her head stays, but her eyes dart back to me like she's waiting for a reaction from me.

"What?" I question her intentions again.

She sighs and pulls out my desk chair, plopping herself onto the plush mauve cushion.

"Well, Niall and I heard you and Harry talking by the fire pit late last night and I just want to know, as your best friend and primary confidant, what you were talking about." She confesses in one breath, and my eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"How did you— weren't you—"

"Christ, Dallas, I still have ears when I'm getting—"

"Okay! Okay. Fine. I beg you, spare me the details."

"As long as you don't spare me yours."

"Well, Harry and I heard you and Niall for the second night in a row," I mock her tone. "And we both came to the conclusion neither of us would be getting much sleep so we went out to the fire pit."

"And?"

"And we talked."

"About?" Carson pries.

I huff in frustration at her nosiness. This is very typical Carson behavior.

"About... things." I reluctantly answer. "Music, mostly. He played me something on his guitar—"

"He played you a song on his guitar?!" She exclaims in disbelief.

"Not a song, more like just a melody. Something he just made up on the spot." I calm her eager excitement.