isabella [h.s.]

two

**Six inch heels, she walked in the club like nobody's business
Goddamn, she murdered everybody and I was her witness.**

ISABELLA

My eyes open at around nine thirty the next morning, which is probably the earliest I've woken up in months. One of the perks of having a job where you only work at night is that you get to kiss those painful early mornings goodbye. You could basically just sleep all day if you really wanted, so long as you wake up in time for your shift. When I first started working at the strip club, that's exactly what I did. But it gets old pretty fast and rarely seeing sunlight can be a bit depressing, so now I try not to sleep in too much. I still don't like getting up any earlier than ten, though.

I let out a small yawn as I roll onto my back, scanning my eyes over Ronny's bedroom, although I suppose it's my room now. The sunlight streaming through the beige curtains give the room a somewhat dreamy yellowish hue, but it doesn't do much to make the room look any better. The walls are painted a rather hideous magnolia colour, and there's a few posters of Ronny's favourite rock bands haphazardly stuck down with blu-tack, most of the corners peeling off, and then some pictures that I can only assume are related to his anime addiction. Aside from the bed, the only other pieces of furniture are a gaming chair, a wonky wooden desk, a chest of drawers and a bedside table. It's a classic boy bedroom, really. It's definitely going to need some redecorating if I'm staying here long term.

Another yawn escapes my lips and I reach up to rub my tired eyes. Although the bed is pretty comfortable, and much better than a couch, I still didn't get much sleep last night. I stripped off the sheets and replaced them with my own bedding that I stuffed into my suitcase, but I still felt uneasy about sleeping on Ronny's mattress. I thought about how he's probably bought my friend Dana back here, and then that's all I could think about for the rest of the night. I'll definitely need to get a new mattress too.

I throw the covers off and slide out of bed, pulling an oversized striped shirt over my underwear. Sleepily, I make my way out into the kitchen, where, to my surprise, Harry is already awake and sat at the kitchen table, files and papers laid out before him. Hearing my footsteps, he raises his head to look at me, and then he says, "We need to talk."

I just raise my eyebrows, walking past him to boil the kettle. "Good morning to you too, sunshine."

He just sighs, flicking over a page of the file he's reading, and I begin to wonder how long he's been sat there doing that. "I just thought we should discuss our new living situation," he tells me as I place a piece of bread in the toaster and push it down. "We have quite different lifestyles and routines-"

"Yeah, a cop and a stripper. I don't think it gets much more different than that."

He narrows his eyes at me, looking faintly annoyed. "I'm not a cop," he says firmly, as if he's insulted that I even called him that. "I'm a detective. A homicide detective."

I raise an eyebrow, folding my arms over my chest as I lean against the counter and stare back at him. "Is there a difference?" I ask, even though I'm fully aware there is.

His frown deepens, eyeing me for a few seconds before turning back to the file in front of him. "I'm not even going to dignify that with a response."

My smirk only widens and I continue to smile to myself as I grab some butter from the fridge and rummage around the cupboards for a plate. I can occasionally feel Harry's gaze watching me as I do this, which only amuses me more. I've known him for less than twenty four hours, and I'm already getting under his skin. Good job, me.