CLOSER | H.S.

21.

Scarlet's pov.

"I'd be smart to walk away, but you're quicksand."

Taylor Swift — Treacherous

-

Everything I had done was consuming me on another level, my thoughts were hunting me and keeping me up at night, taking all my focus at day. Not even drawing was doing the trick anymore. It all kept getting harder by the second.

I needed a joint.

But my dealer doesn't sell weed nor do I ever want to see his face again. Another option would be Zayn- he always had good weed with him. But I don't want to deal with him for a while.

My last option... The source of it. The boss.

I squeezed my temples, re-thinking about it. I'd never do this if I wasn't desperate.

I touched my screen. I fucking called him.

The second I heard his voice, I wanted to give up. "Hello?" The husky familiar sound filled my ears.

"H-Hi", I mumbled. "Uh- do you happen to have weed?"

"Scarlet, what the fuck? You can't say shit like that over the phone!" He scolded me with a very good reason. Maybe that wasn't the smartest idea.

"Maybe if you didn't overreact it wouldn't sound suspicious!" I shot back with also a reasonable answer.

"I don't. Bye."

He hung up.

"Well, shit", I mumbled to myself sad to my bones at my lack of contacts for drugs.

I stared at my cactus for a few seconds, until my phone vibrated on top of my sheets. It was him.

-

Harry Styles:

Come to my flat later, you'll find something.

-

Scarlet:

am i supposed to just break in?

-

Harry Styles:

No, genius. I'll be there.

-

He texted me his address shortly after.

I still had a hard time deciding whether I should go or not.

"You and I both know you're going, so stop the drama", Lara told me as I finished telling her my situation.

And the bitch was completely right. Before I knew I was changing outfits in front of the mirror again. That became a huge deal lately, after all, he owns a clothing line. I don't want him to look at my clothes the way Zayn looked at my apartment... So I always picked the nicest things I had.

I waited until it was past six o'clock. I guessed it was the time he left from work. It was thirty minutes later when I caught the bus and arrived to his place, double checking on my phone what was his apartment number. He answered it and opened the front door for me.

He lived in a nice place, the building had mirrored windows and when I got inside, it had a nice reception with a tiny garden and a small path for me to follow to another door so I could actually get inside the building. I walked to the elevator, my legs trembling my way there.

My mind was complete blank when I pressed the button and the elevator led me up.

I just couldn't believe I was at his place. I was going to see where he lives.