Priory // h.s.

chapter nineteen

"Am-ber!" Jillian trills from the doorway of our apartment. "You have a visitor. A male visitor."

Stepping out of my bedroom, where I was lying on my bed searching up stupid pictures of cats on the internet, I frown at her. "What- Oh." Harry is standing in the doorway. "Hi."

Devilish grin planted on her face, Jillian says in a suggestive tone, "I'll just step out to see Kenneth, if you don't mind too terribly. Have fun, you two!"

I practically shove her out the door.

Once she's gone, Harry raises his eyebrows at me. I flush. "Don't even- don't even mention her.  She has no life. D'you want to come in?"

"Sure," he says, still smirking.

I step back and allow him to enter. He seems relaxed and self-assured, even though he's in the Women's Dorms--something he too could be punished for, if he's caught. Yet there's no trace of nervousness in his manner. Maybe the hall monitors are all gone or something? He isn't too afraid of them anyway, judging from the way he spoke to the one who interrupted us last time I was at his dorm room. Folding my arms across my chest, I lean against the wall and evaluate him. "Well?"

"Well what?" he says with aggravating innocence. All traces of vulnerability he showed earlier today are gone. I guess in some ways his confidence could be taken as attractive, but I just find it annoying--especially since confident Harry is usually also independent and rude Harry. 

"Glean anything from stalking Damon and the others during the 'fire drill'? Maybe some information on who was in that plane we saw? What did you see?"

Harry's brow knits together. "Hold up. Glean?"

I smack him on the elbow. "Well?" I repeat insistently.

"I don't think I've ever gleaned anything in my life. Seriously, who gleans things?"

"Harry, I swear-"

"Glean, glean, glean. Oh, are you having fun gleaning? Yes, I just gleaned-"

"Will you shut the hell up?" I fume. 

Eyes still twinkling, Harry says, "As a matter of fact, I did."

My heartbeat speeds up. "What?" I demand, nearly pouncing on him. "What did you see? What happened?"

"One question at a time, Amber," he says, and I fight the urge to rip the curls right out of his stupid fat head.

Harry sighs. "Let's go sit on the couch before you topple over."

I oblige, but barely. Bouncing on the edge of my seat, I pester, "Tell me already!"

"You are so annoying. I pity whoever had to babysit you when you were a kid," Harry drawls. Finally, seeing me sulk, he gives a little laugh and leans forward, a more serious expression drawing over his face. "Okay. So these men dressed in black-"

"What?" I yelp.

"My thoughts exactly. So cliche. And on their pasty skin, too. A gray color would have suited their complexions a whole lot better, if you ask me."

"Who were they?" I say impatiently.

Harry rolls his eyes. "How am I supposed to know? Random men who got off that plane we saw."

I can tell he's trying to make light of the situation, but his green eyes are dark with worry; he fails to fool me. "Where did the plane land?"

Running a hand through his curls, he says, "Damon must have a landing strip or airway nearby, hidden in the forest. I'm sure if we sneaked out and drove around for a bit, we'd find it."