Cleo Horan
I was currently parked in front of my building while having an existential crisis.
Well, I'd already gone inside and packed a bag of my knives and also a few of my clothes, including underwear that wasn't all see through lace. It was nice to have my things with me, I honestly missed my snake knives.
The familiarity was welcome, it seemed like I hadn't been here in years.
And I also grabbed my laptop and my backup phone, everything was in the passenger's seat and I was ready to go to my mother's house... if I wasn't an overthinking mess.
At least it was daytime, that was exactly why I had decided to leave the house at this hour. It was easier to hide during the day, no one would ever expect me to walk around freely or drive a fucking Tesla for that matter, so I was partially safer. Plus, the windows were very much tinted.
I picked the car that looked the most expensive, obviously. Harry literally had three of them parked in his excessive garage and I honestly had no idea why. He was a fucking show off.
Fucking dumbass, only thinking about him was pissing me off.
He insisted on pretending that his stupid actions were okay and forgettable, but I couldn't look past it. I had no idea why but just the thought of everything going south and him getting killed was making me sick to my stomach... I realized I was scared.
It was the same feeling I'd get right before I'd try to hold my father's gun, that pit deep in my belly that made me shiver. And I couldn't understand why I was feeling like this, I mean, I didn't want him to die... but that was all. I didn't want a lot of people to die.
Harry's lack of worry about his own life annoyed me, even though I could understand why he acted like this. In our line of work, we were taught to expect the worse... which meant death. But risking his life so carelessly wasn't helpful, it wouldn't help Zayn and it wouldn't fix our problems.
He literally had zero control of his emotions and that was so fucking dangerous.
I was there as backup and what scared me the most was that if I wasn't, he would've ended up dead.
How could he forget about it so quickly and live his life normally? Why didn't he care or simply chose to overlook his actions? I was so fucking worried about him that I just wanted to punch some sense into his thick skull.
Zayn needed him alive.
I needed him.
There you go, I fucking admitted it... I wanted him around and that was also pissing me the fuck off.
That's why I needed to leave the house, I needed some time away from him so I could think and he had a lot to talk about with Zayn.
A whole lot of explaining to do because Zayn was in the middle of this mess now, and I truly hoped Harry hadn't mentioned anything about us. I knew he trusted him more than anything, but it was so weird to have someone else know about us.
Zayn would see my initials on his neck so I assumed Harry would make up some excuse about a fight... I'd have to do that somewhere less visible next time.
What the fuck, Cleodora. You're thinking about a next time?
I pressed my forehead against the steering wheel and I fucking hated that this car smelled like him, but what else would it smell like? The sweet scent of vanilla was mixed with something richer and darker, specifically him. It was so fucking intoxicating.
And now I was thinking about the fact he used my full name earlier. It was a first... and I was so damn surprised that I was just now processing it.
