Adore [H.S.]

10

Barton Hollow - The Civil Wars

HARRY

Her dark eyes, messy curls, and pale skin are embedded into my mind. They way her face fell when I told her that one simple word, no, would never leave my memory. It was engrained there, setting up camp, and claiming it it's home.

It wasn't that I was a bad guy. A bad boy. I fucking hated that term. Did I enjoy a cigarette, the burning taste of whisky and the occasional fight? Sure as hell I did. Do I like to have sex? With that question, I ask you this: do birds fly? That answer would be fucking yes, dip-shit. Of course I'd enjoy the occasional fuck with the drunken, lonely girl that would linger after hours at the bar. But a bad boy? That I was not. My unhealthy adoration towards small kittens automatically disqualified me from fully owning that title. I'd also much rather hang out at that shitty bookstore than get into more shit with people who had no plans for their lives. I didn't need any more problems in my life anyways.

I was simply one thing: an asshole. I didn't give two shits what people thought or said to me. Their opinions were worthless to me. I already knew I was a screw up. My mommy-daddy issues could attest to that. The opinions of the morons that surrounded me couldn't change what I already knew.

But even though I knew I was an asshole, the thought of being one to Isabella disgusted me. She was the only person that I wanted to be nice too. That thought alone was simply why I couldn't let Isabella in. I knew that I'd eventually hurt her. Knowing that I already scared her was enough to hold me back from giving her what she wanted. And for some fucked up reason, she wanted to get to know me. If she wanted a cheesy romance, she could go to Chase. That asshole was so in deep for her it was purely disgusting. He was practically drooling just looking at her.

Little did he know that she wanted me. Silly girl.

I quickly rushed out of her apartment, not bothering to look back. The bitter summer breeze cut through my plaid shirt. Shit, my jacket. Izzy still had my damn jacket. "Fucking shit." I quickly patted my jeans, sighing in relief once I realized I had my keys and wallet on me.

I ran over to my beat up station wagon and jumped inside it. I quickly sped off towards Ben's prestige apartment,. I fucking hated it. It was massive and wreaked of wealth. Our lovely mother's new husband had bought Ben this apartment, a way to buy his affection.

The moron.

He tried to buy me one too, but I said no. Actually, to quote, I said "Fuck no." I didn't need his pity money. That was why I left their stupid mansion in the first place.

The guy was a fucking idiot. My mother was just the same. They really deserved each other.

-

The bright light of the morning sun cut through the thin curtains, blinding me in my wake. I cursed myself for not shutting it before I fell asleep.

As I rolled to my side, the excruciating pain of last night's previous night's activities hit me hard. Working at the bar had it's perks. Being able to drink on the job was one of them. Having rough sex in the back room was another. Mandy, or was it Mindy, fuck, what was her name again? Whoever she was, I couldn't help but wonder if she was as sore as I said she'd be. I smirked to myself as I thought about the way her tiny hands wrapped around my neck as I pounded into her against the back of the Employee's Only door.

Fuck.

I looked at the clock, reading the time. It was already twenty after ten in the morning. I had a good forty minutes until I had to be at the bookstore.

Granted, I didn't have to be there. But for some reason, I found myself there every day at the same time. It was the only place, even though it was cramped and ridiculously disorganized, that I felt at peace. I'm sure Izzy helps too.