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Chapter 30

'Cause I was filled with poison
But blessed with beauty and rage.

- Lana Del Rey, Ultraviolence

. . . .

"How was your dinner?" Harry cuddles into my back on his comfy chair with a thick cotton blanket draped over us.

The temperature outside dropped ten degrees and a heavy flow of rain started about an hour ago that hasn't ceased once for a second. While the environment outside was freezing, Harry and I are warmed up by each other's body heat under the soft blanket.

"Bonnie's pregnant," I mumble into the ink-less skin of his right arm.

"How old are the twins?"

"I don't know," I answer sleepily.

"You're their sister; you should know how old they are." 

He chuckles and clicks the volume down a bit on the tv that's displaying a movie he said I'd like, but I ended up drifting off ten minutes into it.

"I'm their half-sister," I mumble then quickly jolt awake at the most important information I had left out. "Guess who was there."

"Hm?"

"It was that crazy-ass lunatic, Amber."

He sits up straighter, rotating his boxers that moved out of place towards one side. "Why was she there?"

"She's Bonnie's sister."

"Did she say anything? You know, about us?"

"She was like 'He hooked up with a younger woman' and 'I bet you like guys with curly, brown hair and dimples.' She was pretty much ratting me out to my dad!"

"Oh my God," He sighs into his hands then lies back down behind me.

"And by the way, thanks for dating a psychopath."

"She's not a psychopath, Vi," he defends her. "And we weren't dating. So, of course, she's going to be furious if she's not dating me."

"You're obnoxious."

"You love it." 

I do. 

"I don't."

"You know what I love about you?" My heart's exploding with every word that leaves his mouth right now.

"What?" I hide my face in his chest so he can't see my fiery red cheeks and my numb smile.

"Your hair...your smile...your laugh... your boobs." He crams his face in my neck and pecks light, feathery kisses along the skin.

"They're like two grapes, Harry."

"Maybe two bags of grapes."

"Absolutely not."

He slyly slips his hand up my shirt and squeezes one in his hand. "Nope. It's like a bag of grapes."

"Stop groping me. I wanna go to sleep." I fight off his hand and snuggle further into him.

"I'm sorry," he says, but the more he pulls me closer to him, the hotter I got and I take it as my cue to stand up, slap him on the head with my pillow and head back to his room.

"Vi..." He follows me into his room while I'm drawing his curtains apart and opening the screen door to let some cool air in because he's making me sweat.

"Go away. I had a long day, and I wanna sleep."

"I'm sorry, Vi. Let's just go to bed."

"Please don't snore."