𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐃 // 𝐇.𝐒.

14.

Chapter 14

Harry sits across from me with a frown on his face. When he shifts, the glossy baby blue leather he sits on top of squeaks. He's annoyed by the tiny inconvenience as he waits for the waitress on wheels to come back with our beverages.

"The '50s should have stayed in the fucking '50s," Harry mutters over Put Your Head on My Shoulder by Paul Anka. The song blasts through the jukebox speakers in the corner of the place.

I take another look around at the burger-joint restaurant he led us to. "I like it," I share as I appreciate the '50s-decade aesthetic of milkshakes, pink neon lights, tiled flooring, and roller skates. I look back at an unpleased Harry.

"Of course, you would," he says back.

I don't have time to ask what he implies by his comment. Not when our waitress returns.

"A strawberry soda and a water?" The waitress asks, using the stopper on her pink roller skates to hover by our table. She places the beverages onto the cream table with silver rims.

"Thank you," I tell her, sliding the glass of water closer to me.

The frown on Harry's face suddenly disappears at the sight of her. "Yeah... Thanks, doll." He smiles at her with dimples on full display. I hadn't seen how deep his dimples ran until now, as I watch his flirtatious episode with the waitress.

She giggles, falling for the charm he exudes. "No problem. I'll be right back with your burgers," she says, smiling at him right back before she then skates off.

Harry watches her roll away in her blue short-skirt uniform and stockings. He's not hiding the fact that he's checking her out. Leaned back, he lifts the tall glass from off the table. His mouth parts, searching for the black paper straw. When he finally has it between his lips, he starts to drink up his sugary drink.

"Is there something on her ass?" My mind speaks for me.

His eyes shift away from the waitress attending another table to look right at me again. He hums, putting his glass back down after he had finished his sip. "Jealous it isn't your ass?"

As if. With a quick scoff, I shake my head. "Why the hell would I be jealous?" I spike my eyebrow up at him. "I just think you should be a little more respectful to her, is all."

He sits up with a shit-eating grin on his face. "And I should give a fuck about what you think because?" He leans forward with elbows on the tabletop. He folds his arm over the other with a green-eyed stare locked on me.

I take back what I thought earlier. He is awful. An asshole, too. I could only huff in response. "I think if anyone gives you a tip on how to be respectful and kind, you should take it." I stir my straw in my glass of cold water with slices of lemon on top. I then take a sip.

"Hmm... Well, I don't need anybody telling me how to fucking act, D'Amore. Especially, you. You go around acting kind and respectful all the damn time? Good for you but look where that's gotten you."

Ouch.

I've stopped drinking water as I take in his insult. I shouldn't let it be an insult. "The way I choose to live my life isn't why I've been double-betrayed if that's what you're implying. It's something that happened, and I don't have to lose it. I've felt worse so... this is just a minor bump on the road. I mean, I have to face them again at some point. There's no way in hell August and I will continue to live with each other. Her parents found us the apartment so I might have to be the one to move... out. And... with Matthew-" I groan when my sudden rant has turned into a prompt realization of the disaster I'm in. I hate all of this so much. I lower my head into my crossed arms on the table as the stress starts to overwhelm me.