Ignition [h.s]

06

HARRY STYLES

Elise stares into my eyes with a distant look of anger after being given a life-or-death ultimatum. She can let me drive her back to New York, or she can be captured and killed by the Rivals.

"Fine," She murmurs in defeat, snatching her phone from the charger. "I'll go with you."

Wise choice.

A tinge of guilt fizzles in my stomach as she slips the phone in her pocket and bends down to tie her laces, flipping her hair over her shoulder in the process to expose a host of red imprint marks from my fingers. An apology gets stuck behind the lump of pride in my throat. She helped me stitch up a severe wound, and I strangled her violently against a mirror in return.

I couldn't help it. I deal with everything by aggression, sometimes it's the only way to get things done. In fact, it's the only way I know how. Every time someone has stepped out of line at American Gothic, they've gotten tied to a chair for days and shot between the eyeballs not long after.

I tried so hard to be accommodating for Elise, but she wasn't listening to me. The pizza, the pillow boundary. They were all ploys to make her feel more comfortable around me before I knew I'd ultimately break the news that I'd be the one driving her back to New York. She doesn't understand it yet, but college is nowhere as important as getting home safely when the Rivals have spotted you in a compromising position, more than likely having pinned your head to the top of their hitlist.

It's why I resort to violence when people don't listen to me.

"Are we going, then?" She snips impatiently, with her hand on the doorknob. I do one last gaze over the room to make sure I haven't left any personal belongings behind, snatch up my car keys from the desk and follow her out trailing my small black suitcase behind me. It had been nice waking up beside a warm body for once, but now the air is cold with tension again.

I shouldn't really care; she means nothing to me after I get her home.

Our shoes echo against the floor of the lobby in synchrony as I hand over my room key. Elise is standing dangerously close to the wooden counter with her hip propped against it and her fingers drum an erratic rhythm on the lacquered surface. I can tell from her wide-eyed expression that she is trying to gain the attention of the receptionist so that she can motion for some sort of help. It's bemusing she'd think that could work, just because it does in the movies.

"I hope you enjoyed your stay," The receptionist says in a clipped, monotone voice continuing to type away cluelessly. Her grey hair is strained so tightly in a bun that it's actually pulling the features of her face upwards. I nudge Elise to walk forwards with the side of my arm, but she just moves further away from me like a wounded puppy, with her body still pressed up against the counter. Eager to make her escape.

"Come on, darling." I clear my throat, masquerading us as a couple. "We've got a car waiting outside." I say this loudly and intentionally, causing Elise to physically deflate and fall into step in front of me. I know right now she thinks I'm the devil attempting to kidnap her, but she'll be thankful when she's home safely and not tied up in the basement of the Rivals.

The several story car park is empty this early on in the morning. There's nobody here, save for a homeless woman curled on one of the curbs with torn blankets wrapped around her. She has curled brown hair and an oddly expensive brand of purple sneakers on her feet, which is strange considering she's supposed to be homeless. I walk over to my black Cadillac and tuck my suitcase into the trunk without much more consideration, usually those types of people are scam artists looking for quick cash.

"Hey, I hope you can get some food with this." I whirl around to see Elise crouching down by said homeless woman, emptying some loose coins into her hand. She really is as clueless as I thought, giving money to fraudsters.