Turbulence [H.S. || A.U.]

Chapter 5

God knows what is hiding in that weak and drunken heart
I guess you kissed the girls and made them cry
Those hardface Queens of misadventure
God knows what is hiding in those weak and sunken eyes

It's the middle of the night and I am suddenly awoken by a bright light shining through my window and the sound of a motorcycle engine revving.

Usually, I'm not one to complain about that sound. I am actually partially convinced that my motorcycle is the one true love of my life at this point.

But when I am trying to sleep and hear that sound waking me up at three in the morning, it's a bit of a different story.

I groan to myself as I get out of bed. I put on a t-shirt, since I generally don't wear much when I sleep, and slip on my flip flops before opening the door of my trailer to look out and see what the hell is going on.

When I open my door, I see Harry. More specifically, a shirtless Harry working on his motorcycle. Even more specifically, a shirtless Harry, with the band of his fishnets peaking out above the waist of his jeans, working on his motorcycle.

Now, that's a sight.

I'm not blind. Harry is definitely attractive.

But I need to shove that thought to the back of my mind. I don't need reckless men trying to fuck up my life again.

"Hey!" I shout, still standing in the doorway of my trailer. "What on Earth are you doing?" I add as he turns his attention towards me.

I watch him tentatively as he bends over, picking up the glass beer bottle near his feet. He brings the glass to his mouth to take a swig of the drink as he turns to face me. "Want a beer?" He asks as he holds up the bottle.

"No, what I want is to know why you're waking me up at three in the morning." I retort.

"Well, I'm having a beer and working on my bike."

I roll my eyes and cross my arms over my chest. But I soon notice his cut lip and black eye when he walks a few steps in my direction. "What happened to your face?"

"You know, I've been asking myself that same question." He says before taking another sip of his drink. "Some wanker attacked me when I was leaving this diner."

"You must have really pissed him off." I laugh at his frustrated facial expression.

"He pissed me off. He grabbed me first." He deadpans.

I shrug my shoulders, deciding to egg him on a little more. I really do love pushing people's buttons a little too much. Maybe it's my love of trouble, I don't know. "Well, it's better to be pissed off than pissed on."

"Fuck off." He huffs as he turns to walk back to his bike, placing his beer down and picking up one of his tools to start working on his bike again.