Chapter 8

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2019, September 10h - tuesday | 3am

Aster's P.O.V:

You're only head of something here because your father fucking owns this place.

You're 24, dear, not even if you were fucking Einstein you would be head of anything at this age.

I'm not a fucking whipped, kiss-ass robot like you.

I turn on the bed again, rolling to the cold side of it, the blanket wrapped around my body like a straitjacket. I just can't shut Harry's voice from my mind, his words echoing in my head, over and over, remembering all the things he said. I was so pissed that I didn't even processed the actual meaning behind this words, but now that I'm calmer, alone in my bed, I can't think of anything else besides how much they've hurt me.

He hurt me.

He touched such a sore point in my ego. Everything I've always worked so hard to achieve, all the waken nights I spent at my office, making sure everything was perfect, it all became so... Little. Meaningless.

I'm not an idiot, I know that having the father I have is an immense privilege, and I know that if I wasn't a De Loutherbergh, I would not be in the same place I'm today. I would've not became the head of an entire department at 24. I am aware of that, but in the other hand, I don't think my father has given me everything on a silver plate. I had to work for it, and I used my privilege to go to the best colleges, to work my ass off and prove everybody that I'm worth of being where I am.

And for the past two years, I think I actually proved myself. All I need to do now is to show Harry that I'm not just some advantaged, spoiled little girl that has everything figured out. But somehow, I know that it doesn't matter what I do, he will never change his opinion on me.

He seems to already have everything he needs to judge me, and now that he has, he is never coming back.

It's so frustrating, this is going anything like I was expecting when Des and my father announced about Harry's arrival. I was so excited about having him around, just like he used to be when we were younger. We were best friends, back then, and he was so sweet and so protective about me. I always felt so safe, so at home when I was near him... He was my first kiss, and my first meaningful crush, but now he is nothing but a jerk to me.

I don't understand what did I do for him to hate me so much nowadays. Sometimes I wonder if I'd fantasized over what actually happened that day, 9 years ago, in Desmond's car. Maybe I was too naïve, and the experience I've lived, that for me was so good and endearing, was actually a terrible experience for him? Maybe he just kissed me back because he felt obliged to? If that was what actually happened, it would explain why he went away without even saying goodbye, then kept coming to New York during all those years and never tried to reach me out.

And he said that to me so nonchalantly, in the day we've finally met again. He was so indifferent about it, as if what he was saying wasn't supposed to hurt me at all.

I guess I was wrong about Harry ever since day one... And while I thought he was the kind of guy I would like to always have around, now I know he is not that person.

Tate is snoring lightly by my side at the bed, and I can feel Brie's warm body laying next to my pillow, but I feel awake. My body is exhausted, I'm up for almost 24 hours now, but I know myself well enough to know that my mind won't relax. There's only two things capable of making my mind go silent, and considering I don't have anyone to have sex with me right now, guess I'm going to do the other thing that can distract me.

To work.

Getting off of bed, I go to my closed and throw in some comfortable clothes - black leggings, a black tank top and an oversized knitted cardigan, also black and very, very thick. My hair is getting kinda oily in the roots, because I usually wash it in the mornings, so I put on a white beanie with two pompom, resembling as two fluffy ears. It's not at all the type of clothes I would like my co-workers to see me wearing, but it's 3 in the fucking morning, the only people there are the pharmacists and chemists working at the fabric, in the other building.

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