hating me for loving you {h.s}

Chapter 3.

A/N:

Mentions of rape & sexual assault.

If you're uncomfortable with this topic, you're more than welcome to skip this chapter.

If any of you have gone through this type of subject, I'm truly sorry from the absolute bottom of my heart. You're seen & heard, you're so so valid. Much love for everyone. You're strong, you're safe.

I love you, and enjoy the chapter.

*PHOEBE'S POV*

Well, my feet carried me to the cutest fucking coffee shop I've ever seen.

Harry's called a million times, texted even more times than that. I haven't responded to a single one, mainly because it got to the point of me shutting my phone off.

It's not that I don't wanna talk to him, I always do. He's the only person I can talk to. But, I want my alone time.

Also, I'm getting a good ass song out of feeling this way, so fuck it.

This one... I'm not ready to share with anyone for a long time. I don't even have much written, but it's the most personal one yet.

Harry see's and listens to all my songs... but not this one.

And curse that fucker, because of course, when I allow myself to think of him, I see the curly headed boy step into what I thought was a secretive coffee shop.

Fuck, my journal. Put. It. AWAY.

  I fumble to shove it into my tote, but by the time I do, he's already standing in front of me, crouching down to my level in my chair.

His intimidating look usually worries me, but all I can do now is stare back. Why does he always wanna be near me when I want to be the furthest from him?

Which by the way, happens once in a lifetime, so now I'm really pissed.

"How in the hell did you find me?" I blurt out, just as confused as I sound.

"Your location is still shown when your phone is shut off, P." He said in a serious tone, making me nervous on why he's this upset.

"What's got you so grumpy, curly?" I decided to play this game, feeling more enthusiasm than I usually would in this situation.

"Don't play dumb right now, Phoebe Stone." He takes a seat in the wooden chair across from me, plopping down on it harshly. He obviously wants me to know he's mad.

"Dumb how? I'm not playing dumb, no way!" I say sarcastically, wavering my hand in the air as I spoke.

"What's in the journal, P?" He motions his hands by my tote, obviously seeing that I had a struggle fitting it back in there.

"N-nothing, absolutely nothing!" I didn't mean to stutter, but it comes out when I'm nervous. I smile shyly, trying to hide that I don't want him to see it.

"C'mon." He motioned his hand on my tote, completely getting up, just to see what's in this stupid fucking journal that he knows I've had for years.

"S-stop! Give it back, curly!" I struggle to grasp it out of his hands, his grip too tight for me to get it fully. He pulled the rest of it out of my hands, causing me to get angry. "Please, H. Give it back."

  "You never hide things from me, what's with the sudden change?" He asked, tilting his head, but still keeping my journal closed. I know he'd never do something I didn't want him to, especially with my journal. He'll give it up soon, I hope.