Damaged » h. styles au

Chapter 65 - Harry

                                                                 65.  

                                                            ●•Harry•●

"Um, Charlie?” I asked, carefully, putting the mobile inside my pocket and turning around to face the confused girl I’d left behind on the swing.

She muttered an “hm” while I walked back to her, trying to find the words to ask her if I could leave without sounding much rude. And, well, yeah. There was not exactly much I could do without sounding disrespectful; it was her birthday, after all, and I should at least try to spend a little more time with her, but.

“Would you mind coming here so I can tell you personally?” Scarlett begged, and how could I ever say no to her?

So, slowly, I stopped in front of her with a frown of my own, watching as she stared at her nails, trying to pretend she wasn’t interested on the way I was talking and giggling at the phone like a damn fool. I do not doubt she had heard I was talking to a woman when she leaned closer to me asking who was it, and I did not doubt she was a bit jealous, as well. Don’t know if I should feel flattered or guilty, probably a bit of both.

“Do you want a ride home?” I offered then, not ready for when her eyes looked at me disappointedly. Sh–t.

“So, um, you’re going?” I nodded apprehensively. She mumbled an “oh”, trying to disguise what her eyes were showing, then “Okay. I’ll take it.”

“Gonna go inside to get the keys and say goodbye to my parents, you coming?” she whispered an agreement before grabbing both her and my mug, handing it to me silently. God, I was a jerk, wasn’t I? “I’m sorry,” I whispered to her just when we were about to go inside, and she shook her head dismissively.

“It’s okay, Haz. You’ve got things to do. Thanks for this anyways.”

And those last ones were the words she repeated to my mum before she insisted Charlie should stay a wee longer, my dad neither agreeing nor disagreeing. Somehow he knew by the way I moved I was dying to go away soon; not because I hated their house – on the contraire, it felt more like home than my own flat –, but because he knew it had to do with the girl I was in love with.

He understood. Mom didn’t.

Then minutes later, after a lot of praising directed to Charlie for being such a good girl, smart, beautiful, friendly and nothing she hadn’t heard before, mom kissed her cheek and waved her goodbye, asking me be careful on the road and a few more mother-like usual sh–t. Dad grabbed my elbow and whispered a “don’t hush to see the other one, it’s disrespectful”, but smiled warmly at me anyways, winking.

I nodded at him, already holding the door open for Charlie to go through it, still smiling and waving, putting her coat on until we were finally out.

The drive to her house was fuelled with silence, so I turned on the radio, just so it wouldn’t be much awkward, which apparently didn’t work. I could feel her shifting on the seat next to me, staring out the window droningly and tapping some random rhythm on her thighs, not matching the beat of the song at all. She was obviously sad, though she wouldn’t dare to say it because she was selfless and good.

When I finally got to a stop, I went for her hand. It wasn’t an attempt of flirting, just a comforting gesture, but she flinched anyways. It was always satisfying watching Scarlett do exactly what she did, flinching, shrinking, getting goosebumps all over her skin when I touched her, even briefly, but it only made me feel sick when I saw the look on Charlie’s face. Could she not like me that way?