hate & other words || h.s au

two

When my mum told me (via text message because ever since she learned how to text, she prefers to text rather than call which I am very much okay with because I hate phone calls) that I should close up the store and return home before dinner, I knew something was up.

Naturally, I made myself believe that whatever news she has to tell me, it's bad. Especially since she left me on read when I sent her a 'why???' which I think is rude, by the way, because she could've at least said something to soothe my mind instead of leaving me wondering about it.

And that's how I find myself bracing for the worst as I drive home. It's a short drive because the bookstore isn't too far from home but since it rained earlier this morning, I couldn't take my bicycle or walk.

I take a few deep breaths once I've had my car parked and adjust the rear-view mirror so I could take a look at my face. My hair's a mess, the complete opposite of how it looked like when I left home this morning, and my lipstick is barely there. I feel bad for those who came to the bookstore earlier because they had to look at my mess of a face.

Too lazy to reapply my lipstick, I decide to leave it as it is. Besides, I'll be eating soon and it'll be completely gone by then so it'll be a waste to reapply it.

I'm in the middle of combing my hair with my fingers when someone's headlights almost blind me. I glance at the side mirror and a groan involuntarily leaves my throat when I see a familiar car parked behind mine. I hate that I recognise his car and more than anything, I hate that he's making his way to my car as soon as he's stepped out of his.

"Oh come on!" I shout as I slap my poor, poor steering wheel, hurting myself in the process. Before I could think of an excuse to get him to leave me alone, he taps on my window, startling me. I could hear his chuckle even though there's a window separating us.

Taking my key out of the ignition, I shoot him a glare as I step out of my car. I wait until I've locked my car before I turn to him and ask, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Dinner with your parents." He says those words nonchalantly as if it's something he does on a regular basis. Which is kind of true because my parents like to invite his parents over for dinner and whenever they're over, Harry would be here too. That happens at least once a week but he hasn't joined dinner for over a month and I thought he's grown out of it. Turns out he hasn't.

"You haven't joined dinner in a while so why're you here tonight?" I ask another question whilst we make our way to the front door. I can see my mum standing in front of the window, no doubt taking a peek at us.

Harry gives me a sideway glance. "Been keeping tabs on me, huh, Cleopatra?"

"Don't call me that." I tell him. For some reasons beyond my knowledge, he's convinced that my name is derived from Cleopatra. I've told him multiple times that that's not true and I've even asked my mum to tell him that. Yet, he refuses to believe it. He must have a really thick skull because there's no other explanation as to why mine and my mum's words couldn't get into his head. Or maybe he's just dumb. Yeah, I think the latter is more plausible.

"Okay, Leo."

"You're an ass," is the last thing I say to him before I open the door and step inside.

I follow the smell of my mum's cooking and eventually find myself in the dining room. Harry's parents, Vivian and Ralph, are already seated in their usual seats and so is Harry's little brother, Beau. I say hello to Vivian and Ralph before Beau and I do our ritual handshake. I could feel Harry's eyes on us, probably jealous because we've sort of bonded when he wasn't around. I'm starting to think that Harry is adopted because I can tolerate everyone in his family except for him.