invasato [h.s]

15

*(use the drawing as a visual for later on)*

Elaina Basset

I know he's hiding something.

He's not a journalist—he admitted to that. But, I just can't figure out what he does or why Zayn would be affiliated with him and the other guys unless they were all in the same line of business.

I'll try to pry something out of Zayn when I see him next...because I also know that he's not in the hospital for a motorcycle accident.

Harry got hurt because he 'pissed some people off', what if Zayn did the same?

Also, why doesn't Zayn want me to be alone? He even hired someone to watch me at the villa...nothing adds up.

Harry won't answer any questions I have without a hateful attitude, so I've given up on getting direct answers out of him. But, I'll get them somehow.

Right now though, I need clothes.

I've been in these sweats and Harry's shirt since last night. I haven't taken a shower yet, and I feel overall disgusting.

I told Harry I was going to call a cab to take me to Zayn's villa so I could just grab some things if I'm going to be staying here another night. When I said this, he immediately rejected the cab proposal and told me he'll take me to the villa himself.

This earned an eye roll from me, which led to some banter, which led to me regretting the breakfast I made for him. He's just incapable of not being an ass.

"Harry, c'mon!" I shout by the door, waiting impatiently with my purse strapped over my shoulder. I'm getting desperate to get into my own clothes.

"Jesus, calm down." he grumbles as he walks down the stairs. "You're so whiny."

He's gotten dressed into jeans and a grey t shirt. This seems to be his go-to apparel—ripped jeans and a shirt with his cross necklace dangling down to his chest over the fabric of his shirt.

"And you take forever to get ready. Can we go now, please?" I murmur in annoyance.

He gives me the fakest smile possible as he unlocks and opens the front doors. He holds it as I walk out, heading down the gorgeous driveway towards his grey sports car parked out front.

He clicks the button on the keys to unlock it, both of us getting inside. Cool air immediately begins circulating the inside of the car to contrast with the summer heat outside.

"It's a sports car. Why don't you just drive with the top down?" I ask as he puts on some sunglasses and then effortlessly reverses out of the driveway.

"Well I'm not going to, now that you asked." he murmurs, staring ahead with his hand on the wheel and the sunglasses covering his eyes.

He's so fucking annoying. A literal child.

Speeding down the backroads of Milan, we whiz by green grass and bushes and trees. I love how fresh and luscious everything is here.

To drown out the silence between Harry and I, I go to turn on the radio. But before my hand even makes it to the dial, Harry snaps a grip around my wrist to stop me.

I turn my head to give him a weird look. "I wanna listen to music."

"No music." he mumbles, "My head still fucking hurts."

I guess that's fair.

"Did you change your bandage?" I ask, looking at the bandage across the location of his wound.