Leader Of The Mafia {h.s}

94

Bree Tyler

Dear Journal,

I've never been happier. Harry makes me so happy, and now we're engaged I just can't believe it. Last night was unforgettable, the way we pleased each other and confessed our love like many times before felt magical. I even phoned Niall about the engagement when Harry wasn't looking; he's still mad about how touchy Niall was with me that night. Niall said a short and simple "congrats," before hanging up since he had some 'plans' to attend, whatever the plans he had going on may be. But, back to my engagement. I wouldn't want to spend the rest of my life with anyone else, and I have my father to thank for combining me and Harry together I suppose. Because without my fathers crazy ideas, I wouldn't be straddling Harry's lap right now listening to the soft tweets of birds up from above with my favorite dog sitting next to us. Harry's the love that I always wanted, he's the love that made my heart pump blood throughout my body quicker, he's the person keeping my system awake. He makes me feel free. He doesn't hold me back from snorting cocaine with him on balconies. He lets me smoke with him, when and wherever we want. We drink all the time even though we both shouldn't, but who makes the rules honestly? We've both broken the rules, and it's better that way, no one to tell us what to do, to be in control, it's what we both have always wanted. He got it by becoming the leader of the mafia. And in a way I got what I wanted, too. That night when we broke into the high school, was one of the bests nights of my life. I made him happy by giving him a prom like he had always wanted, and I had fun as well as him. As long as he was happy, I was too. And he's vice versa from what he's told me. I've got both of my boys, Chip who's just the most adorable ball of fur ever and Harry who's the consuming love, he's basically my other half.

I'll love you Harry, till death do us apart.

-Bree

I closed my journal, setting it behind me and leaning my head in Harry's chest. He softly smiled against my cheek, twirling my hair in his fingers like he always does when he just wants me.

We had been up against a tree in Carl Schurz Park. I had decided that Chip needed to go for his daily walk, and we just so happened to end up here in this particular park since we had been walking Chip along the pathway. It wasn't far from our house, well as far as far can be considering we lived in the middle of nowhere... but Chip needed some exercise and after we finished walking him we planned to go eat at a restaurant and then walk back home with full bellies and an energized dog. Chip already ate this morning and in the afternoon, so the food gave him fuel for this long walk, he was loving and enjoying every minute.

The reason I had brought my journal was to graph and write down all these sights. The beautiful flowers, the pillowy grass, and the birdwatchers. But I mostly wrote about my undesired love for Harry, I'm sorry! I just always think about him, and feel as if I always need to talk about him or else I'll have nothing else to scribble down in this leather book. I'm almost filled out all the pages, there's only two left. But you know who I also love talking about? Chip. Chip is growing up too fast, it all happens like that. One minute he's playing and the next he loves lazy belly rubs.

"Look at em." Harry remarked, and I lifted my head off of his chest to see where Harry had been pointing with a soft smile. Chip had been sitting up in the grass, with a monarch butterfly on his little, black button nose. I almost gasped in cuteness when I saw the sight. Nothing like a golden retriever having insects flying on them. Chip's tongue hung out low, and the baby butterfly just sat on his nose for a minute as they started into each others eyes. My dog wasn't freaked out surprisingly, he seemed just shocked.

"Get a picture of him." Harry suggested, and I slyly smirked at his suggestion.

"You love our dog so much, just admit it." I scoffed, slipping Harry's phone out of his pocket and unlocking it with the numbers of my birthday.