Priory // h.s.

chapter nine

I get a chocolate smoothie, and Harry gets mango. We spend the short walk over to our booth(by the window) arguing over which flavor is better. Naturally, I'm a strong proponent of the healing heaven of chocolate, and insist that it's truly impossible to beat. Harry, meanwhile, accuses me of never having "tasted the wonders of a natural fruit smoothie". He also tells me I should eat healthier, which is 100% true and 100% going to be ignored.

Sliding into the seat of the booth across from Harry, I give my smoothie a quick stir before taking a sip. "Okay. Enough about my bad eating habits."

"Your horrendous eating habits," Harry enunciates with a smug look.

"My horrendous eating habits," I echo, dragging the straw out of my glass and flicking a droplet of chocolate shake at him.

He yelps like it burned him. "Don't let the inferior smoothie touch me!" he yells, ducking behind his curls.

I scrutinize him, trying to decide if he's kidding or if he actually thinks it's okay to not like chocolate. 

Probably the latter. Harry Styles is an extraordinarily odd person.

To cease his obnoxiously loud slurping, I lean forward and rest my elbows on the table in an attentive manner. "Well?"

Harry pushes his milkshake away, cushions his back against the seat, and raises his eyebrows at me. "Well, what?"

"You said you would explain why you're still at Priory, if you hate it so much," I say evenly. "And why you're so suspicious of Damon."

He furrows his brow. "I never said that, per se."

I'm beginning to lose my temper--which, admittedly, is not an event that takes very long to occur. "You damn well implied it," I snap, nearly spilling my chocolate milkshake.

"Did I?" His lazy smirk makes me want to scream.

Instead, I fix him with a fanged smile. "You did."

When he merely gazes back at me, owl-like, I adopt a more suave approach. Dropping my bottom lip and widening my eyes, I half-beg, "Please, Harry? I work at Priory too, you know. I deserve to know."

He sighs, and I'm not sure if it's in response to my ineffective puppy-dog face or just a general reaction to my presence; both are equally likely. "Fine, Amber. But why do I have to be the one to tell you?"

I cross my arms over my chest. "Because so far, you're the only one disillusioned enough to be suspicious of Damon."

"Are you saying you trust him?"

"I'm saying I did trust him. What with all the stuff we found in the Lab 3 folder, I'm starting to rethink my loyalties," I say evenly. 

"So what you're saying is, you want me to plant a bunch of suspicions in your head so I can absolutely decimate your trust in your employer."

Shrugging, I nod. "Something like that, yeah."

He nibbles on his lower lip, some of his bravado fading. I watch him fiddle with his hands for a good two minutes before clearing my throat expectantly. Another little sigh escapes Harry's lips as he starts, "I'm guessing you want to know about the whole me-hating-Cade thing, too."

"Does it relate?"

"Yeah."

"Then yes." I tap my fingers absently on the glass of my smoothie. "But you're not going to tell me, are you?"

Harry swallows, lost in thought. "Okay, here's a paraphrased version of everything. You're right about the fact that I'd rather stab myself repeatedly in the foot than stay at Priory." I cringe at the exaggeration--although Harry's face is dead serious as he says it. "But there is a reason I'm still here, and it's not because I'm just a deadbeat who can't find an employment anywhere else."