Limonene |H. S.|

12. say, what's in this drink?

I think this is my favourite chapter so far

***mentions of DRD
-

The short, long sleeve black dress is comfortably adjusted to my body, mesh sleeves a thin layer of glittery fabric, the cleavage low. My breasts were king of struggling to stay inside the material, making me slightly doubt the attire, but not enough to take it off.

I smooth my hand over the ruched material, checking my hair in the mirror before walking to the dining room again.

"What about these?" I raise an expectant brow, moving in front of Harry as he smiles, head tilting downwards.

"Very nice, and very much like the last ones." His words are sincere, does he really see no difference in these heels from the last?

"Uh, no, the last ones were an inch lower and the strap was-"

"No wonder I had to look up," At this he stands, cockily winking when he still manages to be taller than me. "But these are great, I really can't tell the difference, they're all black and look painful. You look lovely, now let's go."

He grabs my clutch from the countertop and walks past me to the hallway, the barely there, thick heel of his boot clacking along with him. "You're the one that decided to come early." I call after him, shutting off the light and following him to the door.

"Yeah, babe, I got here fifteen minutes early and you weren't even dressed yet." He laughs, taking his and my own coat from the tree stand coat hanger and handing it to me.

"Makeup takes a lot of time, okay?" Though my look wasn't that loaded, I redid it multiple times until I was satisfied.

Harry waits for me while I lock the door, handing me the small purse when I need to stuff the keys inside.

The driveway is empty, my dad's car and mine safely tucked in the garage, my mom's car was being used. They were... on a date. Somehow (Harry), my dad had knowledge about me going out today, and he eagerly told me he would take my mother out so that there was no drama over who I left the house with. Unbelievable really, just how far he bends for Harry and his family.

Do old people even have date?

I obviously didn't feel okay with going around my mom's back and sneaking out of the house with a guy she quite literally loathes. However, in my eighteen years of being their daughter, I'd hardly ever done anything this rebellious, she should at least cut me some slack.

Harry had arrived tonight in a brand new car his father had gifted him for his birthday, a white jaguar that felt too expensive to even look at. He was happy with the gift, mentioned how he'd have to get rid of one of the SUVs to fit it in the garage. How stressful being him, huh?

I had gifted him a pretty, yellow dial, oystersteel watch, probably worth a one thousandth compared to the extravagant car. Nevertheless, he thanked me a while ago when I gave it to him, smiling as he removed the one that he was wearing and replaced it with mine, leaving a chaste kiss on my lips afterwards, one that.

This new dynamic was weird, being kissed on the lips by someone who'd self named themselves your boyfriend was weird. A good kind of weird, I suppose.

"Thanks." I mutter when he opens the passenger door and carefully closes it after I've climbed inside.

Soft music hums in the background, irrelevant to my ears when Harry starts talking about his mum and the one minute phone call they shared that morning, about his dad delaying his trip for another month out of town and about how his friends will probably embarrass him tonight.