Yellow || hs au

| 74 |

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   I chew my bottom lip gently, careful not to break through the skin and draw blood, as I stare aimlessly at the foggy pitcher of beer that sits in the middle of the table. The foam ring bubbles and is thinning out the longer it sits there, the liquid slightly splashing at the sides as the table is accidentally pushed causing it to wobble on its unsteady leg.

   "You look like you want to choke out a kitten." Tiff laughs, my eyes flicking over to meet her gaze as she leans her side against the small round table. Her eyes search me for a moment as I shake my head.

   "Thanks, T." I reply sarcastically, a soft smile making its way onto my lips as the woman before me dramatically rolls her eyes. She leans her elbow on the table while reaching out to push a strand of my hair behind my ear with her other hand.

   "Are you going to tell me what's going on?" She questions with slightly raised eyebrows. I sigh quietly, tracing small shapes into the surface of the table, my eyes avoiding hers. "I know you, Clover. Something is wrong." She continues quietly, being sure to keep our conversation between the two of us only.

   "My dad showed up yesterday." I spill, watching Tiffs features change into an expression of confusion. Her eyebrows furrow and the crease between her eyebrows grows visible as she stares back at me. "We fought, and we both said some things we probably shouldn't have." I continue quietly, dropping my gaze to the table once again.

"What was he doing back here in NewYork anyways?" She questions, a sigh escaping my lips as I shrug. That's one question I would love to know the answer to. I know he wasn't here just for me.

"I have no idea." I answer, meeting Tiffs gaze once again. She frowns lightly, chewing the inside of her cheek as we sit in silence for a moment. "I had another. . ." My sentence trails off as I desperately search for the correct words, nothing seeming to fit what I felt last night.

"Anxiety attack?"

All of the air leaves my lungs as they deflate, my eyes squinting at Tiffs suggestion. I don't know why I'm so surprised, anxiety is common in a lot of people. But I was never one of those people who dealt with it. It's never been an issue for me.

"If that's what you call it." I mumble, unsure of what to say. Tiff watches me for a moment, neither of us saying anything. And maybe neither of us know exactly what to say. "The point is," I finally voice. "Is that when I tried to call Harry, he shut his phone off."

   Tiffs body visibly tenses as she glances around for a moment before finding my gaze once again. Her tongue glides over her bottom lip, the silence from her is loud and makes it hard to sit still.

   "On purpose?" She questions, a sigh escaping my lips as I allow my forehead to fall into my palm. I lazily shrug my shoulders, wishing I was at home in my bed.

   "I don't know, it rang through the first time and the second time it didn't." I explain, sitting back to look at Tiff. She stands the same way she was moments ago, although her face holds an obvious expression of confusion.

   "I just don't understand why Harry would do that." She speaks her thoughts. "He never turns his phone off, we all know that." Tiff continues, her eyes dancing around the surface of the table that has old rings of condensation stained into the aging wood.