Forever | h.s.

Chapter 23

~Harry's POV~

I was going to fucking kill Renee. Yes, I admit, I did do things with her, but that doesn't mean she can go and tell Annabel, while she's right next to me. I knew Annabel felt awkwardly uncomfortable from the moment Renee walked over. The things she said was uncalled for, but not surprising. I knew sooner or later she would blurt something out, but I couldn't really do anything, she ignored my constant requests for her to leave anyways. It pained me to see Annabel walk away like that. I couldn't just let her slip out of my hands, so I followed her out. I wanted to give her some time, and space, but it's hard, not thinking about her. So I joined her on the balcony. It was a cool night, with slight wind, and a starry sky. The sound of city life, and water made me actually feel relaxed. We both knew that it felt right, to be together. I wanted to be with her, I wanted her to be mine. I didn't want anyone else to have her, but me. I know, I sound possessive, but Annabel could be the key to finding myself, because quite frankly, I'm lost too.

Every time her lips touched mine, I wanted more. She was so gentle, so pure, and I loved that about her. I loved the fact that her lips tasted like vanilla all the time, and I loved the feeling of her hands on the back of my head. She gave me so much security. Every time I'm with her, it feels so right. And somehow, I know she feels that too. The connection between us isn't really obvious, but it's there, and as long as she can feel it, I'm content. I don't need anything else in this world besides Annabel.

We walked back into the dining hall, without any attention drawn to us, whatsoever. All these rich pricks were too focused in on themselves and the other rich people in the room, that they wouldn't pay any mind to two teenagers walking in together from a balcony. I slipped my hand into Annabel's catching her by surprise. She was hesitant, but didn't bother pulling away. Her hand was soft, and it was small compared to mine, but it fit in my hand like it was made just for me. We took our regular seats that we sat in before, and saw that the main course had already arrived. I was glad we missed the first couple minutes, because that waiter didn't have the chance to keep hitting on, who was now, my Annabel. I've always been quite jealous, but I couldn't help it. I wanted to show everyone that Annabel was mine, and mine only. She wasn't to be shared with anyone else, and I wanted to show her that as well too.

"Come home with me tonight." I whispered into her ear.

"What?" She whispered back, surprised. "Harry, I can't just leave with you!"

"Why not?"

"Because, I'm pretty sure my parents will be wondering as to where the hell I would be."

"Then tell them."

"It's not that easy.." She stuttered. "The thing is, if they found out I was seeing.. you know.. someone like you, they wouldn't exactly be thrilled." She spoke nervously, afraid of insulting me, but I wasn't at all taken aback. I knew the type of person I am, and I knew parents, especially ones like Annabel's, wouldn't be jumping up and down with joy, if their perfect little daughter chose to be with a tatted up, bad boy. But nothing would stop me from being with Annabel, if I wanted to.

"Don't worry, you don't have to be concerned about insulting me." I comforted. "I understand." I admit, I was a little disappointed, but only because I wouldn't be able to spend my night with Annabel, which I had been dying to do, since the minute I laid my eyes on her. I could practically see the guilt in her eyes, when I spoke.

"Harry.." She whispered, resting a hand on mine.

"Annabel, it's fine." I snapped. "I get it." Her hand slowly withdrew from mine, removing the warmth she generated. I sighed. "Annabel, I'm sorry. I just-"

"No no, it's fine. It's my fault." Her voice diminished as she finished the sentence, obviously offended.

"No, don't say that." I ran my fingers through my hair. "I'm sorry, I just," I took another deep breath. "I just really want you." I finished, unable to make eye contact with her. Nothing more was said, and we sat awkwardly, poking at our untouched meal with a fork. I peeked at Annabel, her face seemed somewhat dejected, and I couldn't help but feel guilty. Her left hand supported her head up, as she used her right to push a piece of dry chicken around on the glass plate. She nibbled nervously at her lower lip, and constantly shifted in her seat. "Annabel, what's wrong?"