earned it [h.s.]

21. (*)

Part of a double update!!! Read chapter 20 first xx

also buckle up x

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Harry.

I was bored out of my mind.

I honestly didn't know why Blair insisted me coming to events like this all the time because they managed to bore me more each time around. I didn't know how it was even possible. But for the last fifteen minutes I had been wondering if it was actually possible to die from boredom.

My eyes stayed on Genevieve, who was in a mandatory conversation with one of the other investors tonight. He glanced her up and down in her new burgundy dress every once in a while and she shot flirty smiles back, introducing herself as Sloane and chatting to this man while Blair was waiting by the stage to make her speech.

I tossed the remainder of my scotch down my throat and leaned my chin on my palm, elbow on the table that I was sitting at by myself.

I heard Genevieve clearing her throat, asking the man politely to remove his hand from her waist. I was about ready to get up and finally save her from the conversation with this fucktard, but she seemed to able to handle herself. She sweetly smiled at him, gently squeezed his bicep and shot him a wink before turning around. It was easy enough to see that his eyes were glued to her ass as she walked away, smile wiped from her mouth instantly as she made her way over to me.

I had quickly learned that Sloane and Genevieve were very different people.

"So," I cleared my throat, "made a new friend?"

She giggled and rolled her eyes, "Please... He was the worst. I was just being polite."

"He was staring at you a lot." I murmured while leaning back in my chair. Genevieve got comfortable in her seat and eyed me carefully before taking a sip of her water, but didn't respond me.

Her company was the only thing I had looked forward to tonight. Genevieve and I had been calling back and forth quite a bit ever since coming back from Monaco about a week ago. I called her the next day to obviously apologize once I had gathered my testicles and mustered up the courage to do so. I was such a wimp.

Her attitude had surprised me. She hadn't been angry, she hadn't told me off, she hadn't shouted. She told me not to apologize and was almost softer than I had ever known her to be.

Hearing her sniffling through the phone was heart breaking and her tired body eventually fell asleep as I was filling out the crossword puzzle. I had listened to her steady breaths for a while, mumbling some non-important things when I knew she couldn't hear me, when she wasn't conscious.

I spilled my truth a little, feeling safe on a call with a sleeping Genevieve until I sighed out and ended it. It lasted near fifty minutes.

We hadn't talked about Monaco anymore. About how we cuddled in the pool, about how I kissed her neck, about how we danced, about how we talked about sex more openly than I had ever before in my life. About how I ditched her to get dinner with Blair – which was disappointing as expected – and about how she smoked up nearly half the weed we bought and looked like a complete mess the following day.

My last few days with Blair had been spent arguing, arguing and more arguing. I figured out she took half a day off yesterday and spent it with Genevieve, which made my blood boil. We were so far apart that it wasn't even funny anymore. We shouted, slept apart, hardly talked. And here we were.

When Genevieve arrived a little early tonight, I proudly showed her around the garden. She asked me about all the different types of flowers I had planted, showing true interest in yet another dorky thing I did in my free time. So far I had told her I watched documentaries, had an unhealthy obsession with puzzles and that I gardened, and neither of those sent her running for the hills.