murder house / h.s

fourteen.

Avery's POV

I watched with a wide smile as Harry appeared as a black blur-- mostly from his dark clothing-- right before he bounced on the bed and came to an abrupt halt. His leather boots hung off the bed as he kicked his legs back and forward, obviously enjoying the furniture.

"We have a new room." Harry beamed at me. He looked like a kid in a candy store, and honestly it was kind of cute. And not in the baby way either.

Yet still I felt like I was having to leave a piece of this place I had actually liked. The training room was probably the most important to me, and as we sat casually on the velvet cushioned bed, it was going up in flames.

Which reminded me of another thing-- Jonah.

"Do you think he's dead?" I asked. Harry just smiled and looked at the sheets. It was obvious he was happy at the thought of Jonah being burnt to a crisp. That wouldn't be our problem. I still felt a sort of pity in my heart, though. I guess it was just my nature. I hated it.

"I think we should get some sleep." Harry said, but he didn't look tired at all. I assumed I looked a mess, and he was offering to watch out for the both of us when I slept.

I still didn't like the idea, though. Sleeping while a fire could very well be nearby was not wise. It was unknown if someone started to fire or it was a natural one, but Max did say players could do whatever it took to win. His rules were too broad. And it almost cost me and Harry our lives.

"I'm good, thanks." I said, finally getting my mind back on track.

Harry nodded with a firm look on his face. I watched intently as he stood up and kicked his shoes off. "This room is comfortable," he said, before crawling under the covers and pulling out what looked like a phone. He looked at the screen and laughed, and wonders of what he found funny crept into my mind. The way the skin around his eyes crinkled and those dimples engraved into his cheeks made him look like the most beautiful man on earth. And that was coming from someone who was never a fan.

"How do you think the fans feel?"

He snapped his head up from his phone and cocked his head sideways like a dog. I laughed at his gesture and crawled further up on the bed, but not too close to him. We weren't that close yet.

"I think they're rooting for us." he smiled at me.

"Us?"

"Yeah," he said, the friendly expression still on his face. His features were as detailed as a marble carving. "They like you. A lot of them keep commenting on my Twitter, saying that they wished we could both win. They say you're sweet."

I felt a blush creeping up onto my cheeks. It felt good to know that some of the viewers liked me, and the fans were a huge proportion of that. I actually felt liked, and that was not a feeling I got much at home.

"What else did they say?" I asked, wanting to know more.

Harry looked down at his screen and his eyes flicked across it from left to right, quickly. At first he looked shocked but then his expression mirrored mine, blushing and embarrassed.

"What is it?" I pressed, trying to peer over his shoulder and read the screen. I just didn't want to get too close and invade his space, so I backed down.

"Oh... it's nothing." he looked up at me and he looked completely flustered. It confused me what had made him so shy and shut off in such a short matter of time.

Maybe it was about me.

"I'm going to sleep." he glanced down at his phone once more before setting it on the nightstand right beside the side of the bed he was laying in. My gaze floated over to it for only a few seconds, then my eyes flickered back to Harry. He was looking back at me, smiling.