witness || h.s.|| ON HOLD

nineteen || a trip down memory lane

The song for this chapter is Naive by The Kooks :)

Tate

     "So where is this mystery key of yours?" Harry asked while sitting on the couch with his feet propped up on the coffee table.

I was still pacing, maybe from nerves, maybe I just didn't want to sit next to Harry.

"Remember that poem that I told Abel that ended up being the first password for the software?" I asked, pausing my rapid pacing to make sure that he was paying attention.

"Um, you never told me what it was, but I know what you're talking about, yes," he replied, moving his feet off of the coffee table and spreading them out in front of him, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. 

"Okay, that's close enough," I sighed, growing tired of pacing and deciding to slump down on the floor, leaning my back against the bookshelf.

"You do know that I have a couch, right?" Harry asked, giving me an odd look as I sat on his floor.

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, Harry, I do know that you have a couch. But quite frankly, I'm more comfortable on your hard floor than I am sitting next to you."

He pretended to look hurt, and stunned at my comment, bringing his hand to his chest and gasping.

"You mean you don't feel comfortable with me? I'm just your friendly neighborhood assassin who just happens to work for one of the biggest organized crime groups in the world! That doesn't just scream comfort to you?"

I couldn't help the small smile that tugged on the corners of my mouth, even though I fought valiantly to suppress it. 

"Shockingly, no!" I replied, using the same sarcastic tone he loved to use on me and firing it right back at him.

He just smirked at me in response, clearly amused that I was using his own tricks against him.

"Okay, smartass. Carry on," he sighed.

"As I was saying, that poem was one that my dad told my mother and I. My mom used to always tell me this story about a day we spent together at the park near my old house. We spent the whole day together, and my dad said it was one of the best days of his life, and he said it reminded him of that poem," I explained, and Harry nodded at me to continue.

"So, I can't explain why, but I feel like if that day meant so much to my dad, that would have to be a pretty significant place to him as well. I think that he hid the key to his journal in the park," I finished, feeling a little bit proud of my detective skills, while Harry only looked mildly impressed.

He sighed, staring at me with his lips pressed tightly together.

"What?" I cried out.

"Tate, you're telling me that you think the key is somewhere in a park? You couldn't narrow it down a little more? Don't get me wrong, I think that the park is a good place to start, but there wasn't anything else in that memory that maybe gave you an idea of where in the park?"

I stood up and brushed my hair over my shoulders, before moving my hands down to rest on my hips.

"It's like you said, I'll just have to use my instincts when we get there."

He opened up his mouth to say something, looking like he wanted to mentally slap himself as I had just twisted his own words back around and slingshotted them straight into his face. 

"Fair enough," he sighed, leaning back into the couch and slumping down a little bit. 

I paused for a bit before opening my mouth back open to speak.