My Psychopath | h.s

Chapter 2

*Harry's POV*

(Backstage at the catwalk event)

The song changes noticably from something upbeat and new to low and depressing. Rita pauses her rant and groans, face-palming.

"What?" I ask her, smiling at her little episode.

"Arabella's here," she says in mock excitement, clapping her hands sarcastically.

"Who's Arabella?" I ask.

"Just another model," she shrugs. I get the impression she is lying from the way her eyes flicker away from their contact with mine. A blonde girl with roots just showing and glossy lips walks over to stand beside us.

"They broke up," she raises her eyebrows suggestively at Rita, effectively blocking me out of the conversation. I can tell she is only doing it for my attention, and stop myself from rolling my eyes.

"Yeah, no shit, Angela," Rita says. "Can you tell her to stop with the crappy love-sick music? It's making me want to puke." The song changes to Begin Again by Taylor Swift. Brings back joyful memories. Rita groans again and throws her arms up in exasperation. "This is ridiculous. I'll go speak to her." She marches across the small place to the narrow corridoor. Then she stops. I try to peer round to see why but Angela places her hand on my chest. She smiles when I look at her, revealing a wide gap between her two front teeth, one of which is smeared with lipstick.

"I've heard alot about you," she says, and runs her tongue along her upper lip, lowering her hand seductively. She leans in and I feel her hot breath right in my ear. "About that tongue's talents." What the fuck? Her breath smells like spearmint and sugar. I need to push her off, now. There is a clatter and we turn. Rita walks to my side.

"Introducing... Arabella," she says quietly. But I can't pay attention. Arabella is dressed in a tiny black dress and her hair is wild. Messy and full of visible matted areas.

I see the source of the clatter, she threw her shoes down to step into them. They are broken. She looks at them, horrified, and hops nervously from foot to foot. It is obvious in her profile that she is miserable, to the point of not taking care of herself. She drags her hand over her eye and then stops halfway, putting her hand in front of her face and pouting at the make up there.

She crouches to the ground, and I stare shamelessly at her ass. She picks up the shoe and the heel that snapped off, pressing them together as if that would make any difference.

I find myself walking towards her, and crouching beside her. Big brown made up eyes stare at me and I smile.