Pretty Please Don't Pinch Me

45. Countless Doubts

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I'm met with a series of flashes upon exiting the club, and Harry pulls me in closer to him. I'm feeling so claustrophobic and exposed, and overwhelmed with emotions. To hear them all calling out Harry's name, and even the occasional person calling my own. I do my best to ignore their hurtful comments and jabs, but one voice seems to stand out amongst the rest.

"Ava, how do you feel about Kendall Jenner being in Melbourne?"

The car door slams shut as we speed off, and I'm jolted forwards out of my seat, as I haven't had the chance to buckle my seatbelt. Harry grabs hold of me, pulling me back, preventing me from hitting the chair in front of me, and he wordlessly leans over to click my seatbelt on.

"Harry what was that back there?" I exclaim, sounding slightly angrier than I wanted to come off. "Is it true?"

"Uh oh, someone's in trou-ble," Marnie drunkenly chimes, and I almost forgot that she was in the car.

"I can't help it that there were paparazzi Ava! You can't blame me for the shït they say!" he replies in defence.

So he wants to just ignore the elephant in the room?

He sits Marnie up properly as she's seemed to have shifted in her drunken stupor, and I can't help but feel like he's trying to avoid the conversation I so desperately need to have with him.

"Please don't act like you didn't hear what he said Harry! All I need is for you to be upfront with me. I just don't want to look like a fool in this!"

The alcohol coursing through my veins gives me confidence to ask questions that I could never have asked had I been sober, especially in this manner.

"Ava," he says as he exhales, pushing his hair back in frustration, "We will talk about this - but not here," he adds, flicking his eyes fleetingly to the front seat where our driver is sitting.

Fine.

He takes my hand in his, and automatically, I turn rigid against his touch. I don't want him being affectionate with me when I have no idea if his version of the truth matches up to what is actually happening. I don't like feeling that I'm left in the dark, and I need answers pronto. He keeps his hand firmly over mine despite my icy demeanour, and although the mood in the car is a tense one, Marnie drunkenly carries on in the same manner, demanding things.

"I'm hungry," she whines.

"We're almost home," I respond dismissively.

"I don't want anything at home, I want Maccas!" she cries.

"Can we please make a stop off at the next McDonalds?" Harry politely asks the driver.

We shortly pull into the drive thru, and Marnie scrolls down the window to order.

"Hi, welcome to McDonalds, can I take your order?"

"I want a cheeseburger Happy Meal" she shouts, as she leans half of her body out the car window to get closer to the speaker.

"Marnie! Get back in the car!" I scold, pulling her back in.

"They need to hear me better," she slurs, turning back to me.

"Anything else?" the employee asks, and I can just about feel the frustration in the drive thru operator's tone.

"And a drink, and a straw, and a napkin!," she continues shouting. "And a girl toy because I'm a girl!"